DAY TWO
904 Words
Day two, I find him checking locks on the ground floor windows.
"Hey, security guy."
He doesn't look up from the window latch. "It's Ezra."
"I know. But security guy is more fun to say."
"Is there something you need?"
"Just making conversation. You know, that thing humans do where they talk to each other about nothing important."
"I'm working."
"You're always working. Don't you ever take breaks?"
"I take breaks."
"When?"
"When I'm not working."
I laugh. "Wow. Incredibly helpful answer. Thank you."
He finishes checking the lock and moves to the next window. I follow.
"So," I say. "Where'd you work before this? You said you just started."
"Private security. Various clients."
"Ooh, mysterious. Were they famous? Important? Tell me everything."
"Confidential."
"Of course it is." I lean against the wall, watching him work. His movements are efficient, practiced. Like he's done this a thousand times. "Military?"
That makes him glance at me. "What makes you say that?"
"The way you move. The posture. The whole 'I could kill you with my pinky finger' vibe you've got going on."
"I don't have a vibe."
"You absolutely have a vibe."
He almost smiles again. I'm getting better at pulling those out of him.
"Army," he finally says. "Five years. Then private sector."
"Knew it. You've got that military thing. Very disciplined. Very..." I tilt my head. "Uptight."
"I'm not uptight."
"You're super uptight. It's okay though. Some women find that attractive."
"Some women?"
"Me. I'm some women."
He stops working. Turns to look at me fully. "Are you flirting with me?"
"Have been since day one. You just weren't paying attention."
"I was paying attention. I was ignoring it."
"Ouch. Harsh but fair." I grin. "So why ignore it? Am I not your type? Too forward? Too ginger?"
"You're very..." He seems to search for the right word. "Distracting."
"Distracting is good though, right? Makes the boring security work more interesting."
"Distracting is dangerous. I need to focus."
"You can focus and flirt. Multitasking. It's a valuable skill."
"I don't flirt while I'm working."
"Do you flirt when you're not working?"
"That's..." He stops. Looks at me like he's not sure what to do with me. "That's none of your business."
"So that's a no. You don't flirt at all. Got it. Very sad. Someone should teach you."
"I know how to flirt."
"Prove it."
The challenge hangs in the air between us. Ezra stares at me, and I can see him fighting something. Amusement? Interest? Irritation?
"I have to finish my rounds," he finally says.
"That's not proving it."
"Hannah..."
"Ezra," I mimic his serious tone.
He shakes his head, but I definitely see a smile this time. A real one. Small, but there.
"You're impossible," he mutters.
"Thank you. I try."
He walks away, continuing his security checks. I watch him go, admiring the view, then head back to my actual work with a satisfied smile.
This is going to be fun.
Day five, I bring him coffee.
He's stationed outside Ocean's office, standing with that perfect military posture that probably gives him back problems.
"Coffee?" I offer, holding out a mug.
He looks at it suspiciously. "Why?"
"Because you've been standing there for two hours and you look like you need caffeine?"
"I'm fine."
"Just take the coffee, Ezra. It's not poisoned."
He hesitates, then accepts the mug. Our fingers brush and I feel it. A spark. A moment of connection.
From the way his eyes flicker, he felt it too.
"Thank you," he says.
"You're welcome." I lean against the wall next to him. "So. Do you ever actually talk about yourself? Or is everything classified and confidential?"
"Depends what you want to know."
Progress. He's actually engaging.
"Okay. Easy question. Favorite food?"
"Steak."
"Favorite color?"
"Don't have one."
"Everyone has a favorite color."
"I don't."
"Fine. Hobbies?"
"Working out. Reading."
"Reading? Okay, didn't expect that. What kind of books?"
"History. Military strategy."
"Of course you do. Nothing fun. No romance novels? Thrillers? Fantasy?"
"No."
"You're missing out. I could recommend some good ones."
"I'm sure you could."
He's smiling into his coffee cup. Trying to hide it but failing.
"You know," I say. "You're actually kind of fun when you let yourself be."
"I'm not fun. I'm professional."
"You can be both."
"Not while I'm working."
"And when you're not working?"
He looks at me then. Really looks at me. Like he's seeing me for the first time instead of dismissing me as a distraction.
"Maybe," he says quietly. "When I'm not working."
My heart does a little flip. "Is that a maybe you'll hang out with me? Or maybe you'll smile more than once a day?"
"Maybe both."
Before I can respond, Ocean's office door opens. Daniel steps out, sees us standing there, raises his eyebrows.
"Everything alright out here?" he asks.
"Fine," Ezra says immediately, snapping back to professional mode. "Just discussing house logistics."
"House logistics. Right." Daniel's smirk says he doesn't believe that for a second. "Carry on."
He walks away. I look at Ezra, grinning.
"House logistics?"
"It's not a complete lie. You work here. I work here. We're discussing... house things."
"Smooth."
"I'm going back to work now."
"Okay. Enjoy your coffee."
"Thank you."
I walk away, feeling his eyes on me. When I glance back, he's watching me. Quickly looks away when I catch him.
Oh yeah. This is definitely going somewhere.
- Writer
