CHAPTER 7- AFTER HOURS
1126 Words
ANDREA
It’s been a little over a week since Project Helios started, and somehow, every evening ends the same way; with me still here, sitting across from Ethan while everyone else has gone home.
The quiet hours after everyone leaves feel different. Calm. Like the building itself relaxes once the last person leaves. He’s started to ask questions that have nothing to do with the project. Small things like how I take my coffee, or if I always tap my pen when I think. Once, he asked what kind of music I listen to when I work, I told him it depends on my mood. He’d just nodded, then admitted he still listens to the same playlist he made in college. That surprised me.
He’s not what I expected, not the perfect, unreadable version everyone in the office seems to see. When it’s just us, he’s quieter in a different way. Still composed, but there’s this dry humor that slips out every now and then, like he forgets to hold it back.
On some nights, he’d order takeout for us, and we’d sit together, eating, talking, and simply enjoying the easy comfort of being in each other’s presence.
I don’t know why it feels so easy talking to him. Or why I look forward to those late hours when it’s just us. But I do. More than I should.
God. I hope I’m not getting too attached.
A lot of times, I think back to when it all first started; how nervous I’d felt when Mr. Dawson told me I’d be filling in for him as the department representative for Project Helios.
At first, I honestly thought he was joking. Me? A newbie barely a month into the job? But then he said it was already official, my name had been added, the emails sent. There was no backing out.
That night, I must’ve changed my outfit at least five times. I wanted to look confident, competent, maybe even a little impressive. My nerves were a mess, though I tried to pretend I had it all together.
The first meeting actually went better than I expected. Sure, a few people looked at me like I didn’t belong there, like I was some rookie who had gotten lucky. But by the end of the presentation, I could tell I’d earned at least a sliver of their respect, and that felt good.
Then evening came. I’d run into a snag with one of the operational systems and needed approval. Mr. Ivan suggested I wait till the next morning, said it was too late to bother anyone. But something told me waiting could mess things up.
So, I gathered every bit of courage I had and went to Mr. Vance’s office.
Knocking on that door, I swear my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
But the night didn’t turn out at all like I expected.
He didn’t brush me off. Instead, he offered to come along to Operations to fix the issue together.
That was the first time I realized he wasn’t the cold, uptight boss everyone made him out to be. He was surprisingly kind. Attentive. Even a little funny once he relaxed.
Somewhere in the middle of the fix, we started talking, really talking. About life, random things that made us both laugh. We even got to playfully teasing each other. Before I knew it, hours had slipped by, and the clock read 9:00 p.m.
He insisted on having his driver take me home instead of letting me take the bus, and despite my protests, I eventually gave in.
That was also the first time he told me to call him Ethan instead of Mr. Vance. I remember hesitating, testing how the name felt on my tongue. Ethan. I liked it.
The car ride was unexpectedly calm. His driver, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, glanced at me through the rearview mirror as we pulled away from the building.
“First time I’m driving one of the employees home,” he said with a little chuckle.
I blinked. “Oh, really?”
“Really. The boss doesn’t usually send anyone off in this car,” he said, amusement tugging at his mouth. “Guess that makes you special.”
I laughed softly, a little flustered. “Or maybe he just didn’t want another employee lost in the bus system.”
“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, clearly unconvinced.
After that, the car fell quiet again. I watched the city drift by, streaks of light and color flashing across the windows as we passed. My reflection stared back at me, faint and soft, almost like I was watching someone else sitting there. Someone who belonged in this sleek black car, who didn’t feel out of place beside people like him.
Layla was already waiting by the door when I stepped out of the car.
She squinted at me, her expression mischievous.
“Is it just me,” she began, “or did I just see you step out of a very black, very expensive car?”
I tried not to smile. “Maybe it’s your eyes.”
“Oh no,” she said, crossing her arms. “My eyes are perfectly fine. What’s going on? Are you secretly working two jobs now? Because that definitely looked like CEO-level transportation.”
I rolled my eyes and kicked off my heels. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Mr. Vance’s__” I caught myself, then shrugged. “Ethan’s car. He offered me a ride home.”
Laila’s jaw dropped. “Ethan? You’re on first-name terms now? Oh, this is getting good.”
“Stop it,” I said quickly. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure,” she said, grinning. “So what is it like?”
“Layla.”
“Okay, okay,” she laughed, holding up her hands. “Just saying, you’re smiling kind of hard for someone who says it’s nothing.”
I threw a pillow at her. “Leave me alone. I’m going to bed.”
She giggled as I walked away. “Whatever you say.”
When I finally lay down that night, staring up at the ceiling, I realized she was right about one thing,
I was smiling.
“Where’d you go just now?”
Ethan’s voice pulls me back to the present. He’s watching me from across the desk, one brow slightly raised, that faint half-smile on his face.
I blink, straightening slightly. “Nowhere.”
He leans back in his chair. “Good. Stay with me. We’ve got another long night ahead.”
I nod, trying to hide the small smile threatening at my lips as I turn back to the spreadsheet on my screen.
Another late night. Another conversation waiting to happen.
- Writer
