CHAPTER FOUR — The Difference Between Distance and Disinterest
1319 Words
Friday started normal. Too normal. The kind of normal that makes you suspicious.
I arrived at eight. Desk already piled with emails, revisions, and printouts that made my eyes glaze over. I was halfway through reading a contract I didn’t understand when Cassie stepped out of Adrian’s office and motioned me over.
“You’re coming with us.”
I looked up. “Where?”
“Client breakfast. An hour uptown. Dress code’s sharp. Bring a notebook and don’t talk unless you’re spoken to.”
That was it. She turned and left me standing there with my screen still glowing.
I went into the restroom to clean up. Straightened my collar. Tightened my tie. Looked at myself in the mirror like I was trying to remember who I was supposed to be today.
Half an hour later, I was in the back of a black car next to Adrian.
The driver didn’t speak. Neither did Adrian.
He sat there scrolling through his phone, thumb still, unreadable. His wristwatch caught the light every time we hit a red light.
At one point, I looked over. His jaw was tight. He hadn’t shaved.
He caught me staring and didn’t say anything.
Just turned back to his phone.
The restaurant was one of those places with gold-rimmed plates and too much space between tables. Everyone spoke in low tones. The napkins were heavier than the coffee cups at my apartment.
Adrian led the way in, nodding once at the hostess. We were ushered to a corner table already half full. Three people were seated. Two men in suits and a woman with dark hair pulled into a high bun. She wore lipstick the color of wine and heels too thin to be comfortable.
She stood to greet Adrian with a kiss on the cheek.
I had no idea who she was.
He said her name like it tasted familiar.
“Nina.”
She smiled like she knew she looked good.
“Still on time, I see.”
“I try.”
He pulled out a chair for her before sitting next to her.
I was left at the far end, across from one of the older men who kept checking his watch like he had better places to be.
The conversation started fast, already in motion before I caught on. Something about real estate. Licensing delays. Government bottlenecks. I nodded when I needed to. Scribbled a few words on the notepad I brought, though most of them didn’t matter.
Adrian didn’t look at me once.
But I looked at him.
More than once.
Especially when Nina leaned in, said something under her breath, and he laughed quietly. The kind of laugh I hadn’t heard from him before. Not the clipped exhale I got in the office. This one was deeper. Almost warm.
She touched his wrist at one point. He didn’t move away.
They weren’t being inappropriate.
But something about it made me feel smaller than usual.
I turned my attention back to the page in front of me, writing things just to keep my hand busy.
The breakfast dragged past an hour. By the time it ended, everyone was smiling, though I couldn’t tell if anything real had happened. A few papers were signed. Adrian shook hands. Nina stood again and kissed his cheek before leaving.
“You’re still the most difficult man in New York,” she said with a smile.
“And you’re still pretending that’s a problem.”
She laughed and walked off.
I stood there holding my coat, pretending I hadn’t heard any of that.
Adrian glanced at me once.
Nothing in his face changed.
The ride back was silent.
He didn’t look at his phone this time. Just stared out the window, one leg crossed over the other, fingers tapping the armrest. Every so often, I thought he might say something. But he didn’t.
I did.
“Is she a client?”
He turned his head slightly. “In a way.”
“She seemed familiar.”
“She is.”
He didn’t explain further.
I let it sit. Looked back out my window, but I could still see her hand on his wrist, his low laugh. That stupid smile.
I didn’t know what I was feeling.
But it wasn’t professional.
When we got back to the office, he disappeared into his office and shut the door.
Cassie handed me a stack of contracts and said nothing. I didn’t ask questions.
But at some point, I stopped working and just sat there, staring blankly at my screen. My reflection in the glass was pale and tired and tight-jawed.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
Why this job was suddenly about more than a job.
Why watching him with someone else made something in me twist.
And it wasn’t like he was mine.
He wasn’t anything.
It got worse that afternoon.
I stayed back after five to reorganize some client files. Just when I thought I’d finally distracted myself enough to breathe normally again, I looked up and saw him walking down the hallway.
Not toward the exit.
Toward me.
I stood up too fast.
He didn’t say hello.
Just stopped by my desk.
“You’re quiet today.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t think there was much to say.”
A pause. “You handled yourself well this morning.”
“Thanks.”
Another pause.
“Anything on your mind?”
I looked at him. Maybe too directly.
“Does it matter?”
His eyes shifted slightly. Not surprised. But sharper now.
“It should,” he said.
I didn’t respond.
He leaned forward, resting both hands on the edge of my desk.
“What did you think of the meeting?”
I forced a neutral tone. “Productive.”
“Nina can be intense.”
“She seemed comfortable with you.”
“She knows how to read people.”
I looked away. “Must be nice.”
He tilted his head.
“Something bothering you?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Then spoke anyway.
“I’m not sure how you want me to be.”
He blinked once. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes you pull me in. Then you act like I’m just background noise.”
His face didn’t move.
“You’re not background.”
“You act like I am.”
A long silence settled between us.
He stood upright again, arms folded now.
“You’re still new to this world,” he said.
“Meaning?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he studied my face for a long second, then said quietly, “Don’t let it distract you.”
I stared at him.
“That’s what this is to you? A distraction?”
He didn’t move.
I let the words slip.
“Is that what she was, too?”
That changed something.
His jaw tightened.
“She’s not your concern.”
“Neither am I.”
I regretted saying it the second it left my mouth.
But I didn’t take it back.
He looked at me like he was trying to decide if I’d just crossed a line or if he had.
Then he said nothing at all.
He walked away.
I went home angry.
Not at him. At myself.
At how easy it was for him to shift the weight. To make me feel like I was the one who blurred the line. The one who wanted too much. The one who didn’t know his place.
But maybe I didn’t.
Maybe the problem wasn’t that I wanted more.
Maybe it was that I didn’t know what I wanted from him at all.
That night, I had a dream.
We were standing on the balcony again.
But this time I said something. I can’t remember what. Something honest. Something that hurt.
And he didn’t walk away.
He just looked at me.
Like he knew.
Like he’d known for a while.
- Writer
