The Jacket
304 Words
8:02AM. Cole Tower.
I walked in 2 minutes late. The jacket was in my tote bag.
Folded. Still smelling like him.
I told myself I’d give it back today. Professional. Normal.
Damien was already at his desk when I entered.
No “good morning.” Just, “Coffee. Black.”
“Yes, Mr. Cole.”
I set the cup down. He didn’t look up.
“Contracts from last night. Any errors?”
“No, sir. All clean.”
“Good.”
That was it. Boss mode. Cold. Distant.
Like the car never happened. Like he never said _Damien_.
My chest hurt for no reason.
10:14AM. Board meeting.
I sat in the corner, taking notes. His jacket was under my desk. I could feel it with my foot.
Mid-meeting, he paused. Looked right at me.
“You’re quiet today, Ms. Lane.”
Every executive turned.
“I’m fine, Mr. Cole.”
He held my gaze 1 second too long. Then, “Continue.”
After, he caught me by the elevator.
“You forgot something,” he said. Low voice.
My heart stopped.
He held out his hand.
I thought he meant the jacket.
He meant my pen. I’d left it on the conference table.
“Right,” I said, cheeks burning. “Thank you.”
He didn’t move. “Did you… sleep alright?”
The question hit harder than it should have.
“Yes,” I lied. “Did you?”
“No.”
Why did he tell me that?
The elevator dinged.
He stepped in. Turned. “Close the door on your way out, Ava.”
Ava. Not Ms. Lane.
I watched the doors shut.
That night, the jacket was still on my chair.
I didn’t put it in the dry-clean bag.
*Note to Self: He noticed I was off. He never notices anyone.*
- Writer
