"Good Work!"
1634 Words
Lucy made it to the elevator before she let herself smile.
Not a small smile.
Not a professional smile.
A full, embarrassing, absolutely uncontrollable smile.
She pressed the button for the lobby and stared at her reflection in the elevator doors, trying to look like a normal young associate leaving her first day at a prestigious law firm.
She failed.
Badly.
Her cheeks were warm. Her hair was still neat, somehow. Her blouse was still tucked in. From the outside, she probably looked calm. Maybe even accomplished.
Inside, however, Lucy Hill was a complete disaster.
Because Madeleine Hunter had said good work. Two words. That was it. Two plain, boring, professional words. And yet Lucy had read them at least six times before leaving her office.
"Good work, see me tomorrow morning."
Lucy leaned against the elevator wall and closed her eyes. That should not have sounded romantic. It was not romantic, it was work. A meeting. Probably another assignment. Maybe a correction. Maybe Madeleine had already found twelve things wrong with her summary and wanted to destroy Lucy’s confidence before breakfast.
Still.
"Tomorrow morning."
The elevator dinged.
Lucy stepped into the lobby and walked out into the cool evening air, gripping her tote bag like it held state secrets.
The city had softened after dark. Office lights glowed above the streets. Cars passed in golden streaks. Somewhere nearby, someone laughed too loudly on the phone.
Lucy should have been exhausted.
She was exhausted.
But under the tiredness was something bright and inconvenient. She had survived her first day. She had not cried in the bathroom. She had not been fired. She had impressed Madeleine Hunter. And, unfortunately, she had maybe imagined her boss looking at her mouth.
Lucy stopped at the corner.
“No,” she whispered to herself.
A man walking past glanced at her. Lucy smiled politely and continued toward the train station. No. Absolutely not. She was not doing this. Madeleine is her boss. Her senior partner. Her very intimidating, very unavailable boss. Also, probably straight. Lucy needed to remember that part.
Probably straight women were dangerous. They could hold your gaze for half a second too long and mean absolutely nothing by it. They could stand too close and not realize your entire nervous system had left the building. They could say your name in a low voice and go home to a man named Andrew who owned loafers without socks.
Madeleine Hunter gave very strong Andrew energy. Not that she seemed like she would tolerate an Andrew, but still...
There was probably someone. Some polished man with a watch collection and a family house in Napa. Someone who knew which wine to order and never said anything weird in elevators. Lucy hated him already, and he might not even exist.
By the time she reached her apartment, she had replayed the scene in her office so many times that it had become less of a memory and more of a problem.
Madeleine behind her.
One hand on the back of Lucy’s chair.
The other braced on the desk.
Her voice near Lucy’s ear.
If you believe something, say it.
Lucy unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside.
Her place was small but warm, with a soft couch, too many throw pillows, a bookshelf that had given up on organization, and a dining table covered in bar prep books she was actively ignoring. She dropped her tote bag by the door and kicked off her heels.
“Just a happy crush...” she announced to the empty apartment.
Lucy ordered noodles from the Thai place downstairs, changed into an oversized shirt, and sat cross-legged on the couch with her phone in hand. She should not look up Madeleine. She had already read her firm bio once, and that was enough. Actually, it was more than enough. It was borderline embarrassing.
Lucy opened her phone. Five minutes later, she was staring at Madeleine Hunter’s firm photo again. Dark hair. Serious eyes. Perfect expression. The woman looked like she had never once lost an argument or misplaced a charger. Lucy scrolled through the bio.
Youngest senior partner.
Major cases.
Awards.
Articles.
Panel speaker.
No mention of a spouse. No mention of a husband. No mention of a partner.
Lucy sat up a little, then immediately rolled her eyes at herself. That meant nothing. Professional bios did not usually say, “Also, please note, I am emotionally unavailable and probably straight.”
Her phone buzzed.
Nora: First day!!! Tell me everything. Was it terrifying?
Lucy smiled. Nora had been her best friend since college, which meant she had earned the legal right to be annoying.
Lucy: Yes.
Nora: Rich people terrifying or workplace terrifying?
Lucy: Both.
Nora: Hot lawyers?
Lucy stared at the message.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Deleted again.
Finally, she wrote:
Lucy: One.
The response came instantly.
Nora: Oh?????
Lucy groaned.
Lucy: No.
Nora: “No” means yes. Who is she?
Lucy hesitated.
Then...
Lucy: My boss.
There was no response for five seconds.
Then ten.
Then Nora called.
Lucy stared at the screen.
“Nope,” Lucy said.
She declined the call.
Nora texted immediately.
Nora: LUCY HILL.
Lucy: I KNOW.
Nora: Is she gay?
Lucy looked at Madeleine’s firm photo again.
Lucy: Probably not.
Nora: Married?
Lucy: Not on the website.
Nora: You looked her up already?
Lucy: Professionally.
Nora: Be so serious right now.
Lucy laughed and fell back against the couch. Her noodles arrived ten minutes later, and she ate them while Nora continued interrogating her by text like she was conducting a deposition.
Nora: Describe her.
Lucy thought for a moment.
Lucy: Brunette. Scary beautiful. Dresses like she owns silence.
Nora: Oh, you’re doomed.
Lucy: I am not doomed.
Nora: Did she flirt?
Lucy nearly choked on a noodle.
Lucy: No.
Then she paused.
Lucy: Maybe.
Another pause.
Lucy: Probably not.
Nora: What happened?
Lucy stared at the phone.
How did she explain it without sounding insane?
My boss stood behind me while reviewing my work and got close enough that I forgot basic motor skills. No. Too much.
Lucy: She reviewed my work over my shoulder.
Nora: How close?
Lucy bit her lip.
Lucy: Close enough that I forgot how to breathe.
Nora: That is not an answer. That is a diagnosis.
Lucy smiled despite herself.
Lucy: She’s probably just intense.
Nora: Straight women can be intense.
Lucy: Exactly.
Nora: Queer women can also be intense.
Lucy stared at that message longer than necessary. Then she locked her phone and tossed it onto the couch.
No.
No, no, no.
She was not going to build a fantasy out of one long look and one almost-smile. A woman could be intense without being interested.
A boss could stand close because she was reading a screen. A boss could say “someone like me?” because she was suspicious, not because she was flirting. A boss could look at your mouth because she was thinking about punctuation... probably.
Lucy finished dinner, showered, and stood in front of her closet with damp hair and a towel wrapped around her body. Tomorrow mattered. Not because of Madeleine. Obviously. Because it was her second day. Second days were important. She pulled out a pale blue blouse, then a white one, then a soft pink one.
The blue said professional.
The white said competent.
The pink said please fall in love with me during a staff meeting, which was not ideal.
Lucy put the pink blouse back.
Then took it out again.
Then put it back.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “I need help.”
She settled on the blue blouse because it made her eyes look brighter and did not scream emotional crisis. By the time she climbed into bed, it was almost midnight. Her body was tired. Her brain was not.
he room was dark except for the faint glow of her phone charging on the nightstand. Lucy turned onto her side and closed her eyes. Immediately, Madeleine appeared in her mind. Not the firm photo version. Not the untouchable senior partner version.
The real one.
Standing behind her.
Voice low.
Sleeve brushing her arm.
You should know when your work is strong.
Lucy opened her eyes.
“Stop,” she whispered.
Her phone lit up. For one ridiculous second, her heart jumped. It was not Madeleine. Of course it was not Madeleine. It was an email notification. Lucy grabbed the phone anyway.
From: Madeleine Hunter
Subject: Tomorrow
Lucy sat up so fast her blanket fell to the floor. She opened it.
Miss Hill,
Please come by my office at 8:15 tomorrow morning before the team meeting.
M. Hunter
Lucy stared at the message.
Read it once.
Twice.
Three times.
No exclamation point. No unnecessary words. No warmth.
Classic Madeleine.
Still, Lucy’s heart was beating like the email had arrived with roses and a handwritten poem. She typed:
Of course. See you tomorrow morning.
Then she deleted it. Too eager.
She typed:
Confirmed.
Too cold.
She typed:
Thank you. I’ll be there at 8:15.
Acceptable, professional, normal.
She sent it before she could overthink herself into madness. A minute later, her phone buzzed again.
Madeleine Hunter: Good.
Lucy stared at the word.
Good.
Again.
Apparently, Madeleine Hunter communicated exclusively in emotional crumbs. And apparently, Lucy was starving. She dropped back onto her pillow and covered her face with both hands. This was not a love story. Not yet.
It was a new job.
A difficult boss.
A woman who was probably straight.
An almost-moment Lucy had probably imagined.
And one very simple email asking her to come in early.
Still, as Lucy finally drifted toward sleep, one thought kept returning, soft and stubborn and impossible to shake.
Tomorrow morning, she would see Madeleine again...
- Writer
