Chapter 5: Mixed Signals
1157 Words
Vanessa wasn’t a morning person.
She wasn’t even a “barely functioning before coffee” person.
She was a full zombie until caffeine rewires her soul kind of person.
So when she walked into the office Monday morning, half-asleep and already contemplating violence against the elevator’s hold music, she didn’t expect… this.
A large, still-warm, iced vanilla latte sat on her desk.
Her name on the side. Her exact order.
She froze.
Looked around.
Sharon hadn’t arrived yet. The office was quiet. Too early for most.
She glanced at Thomas’s door. Closed.
No. No way.
She sat down slowly, eyeing the cup like it might explode.
Took a cautious sip.
Perfect. Her usual. From the café two blocks down.
Her heartbeat picked up.
Coincidence?
Wishful thinking?
Then a voice — low, casual — floated from his office.
— You looked like hell Friday morning. Consider this a preemptive strike.
She turned in her chair.
He stood in his doorway, tie loose, sleeves rolled. Smirking.
He did not just say that.
— You buy all your employees coffee, or just the ones you insult before 9 a.m.?
— Only the ones who insult me back.
She raised the cup.
— You’re dangerously close to earning a thank you.
— Let’s not get carried away.
And then he disappeared back into his office, like that was just… normal.
Vanessa stared at the door.
Sip.
Stared again.
What is happening.
The rest of the morning was oddly smooth.
Thomas was polite. Almost friendly. No sarcasm. No clipped orders. He even said “please.”
Twice.
By lunch, Vanessa was convinced someone had swapped his soul over the weekend.
She walked past his desk to drop off a file and found him reading an article, sleeves still rolled, tie forgotten entirely.
She hesitated.
— Can I ask something?
He looked up.
— That’s never stopped you before.
— Why the coffee?
He tilted his head, studied her for a beat.
Then:
— You had a rough week. I noticed. That’s all.
She blinked.
— So now you’re… noticing things?
— I notice everything, Carter. You just never assume I care.
She didn't know how to respond to that.
But her stomach?
Yeah. It responded just fine.
And then the door opened.
She heard it before she saw it.
Sharp heels. Designer perfume.
Amanda.
Vanessa looked up from her screen — and froze.
Amanda B. in full power-wife mode.
Hair perfect. Coat cinched. Smile sharp.
— Thomas, darling, — she called, stepping past the front desk without so much as a glance. — I brought your lunch. You left it in the fridge again.
Thomas came out of his office like a different man. Straight posture. Professional tone.
— Amanda. I told you I’d grab something downstairs.
— And I told you — you forget meals when you’re buried in numbers. Eat.
She handed him a perfectly packed box.
Her gaze slid to Vanessa.
Lingering.
Assessing.
— Vanessa, — she said with sugar-coated venom. — Still here?
Vanessa smiled sweetly.
— Like mold in the walls.
Amanda’s lips curved.
— Persistent.
Thomas cleared his throat.
— Thank you, Amanda. I’ll see you tonight.
She leaned in. Kissed him on the cheek. Slowly. While looking at Vanessa.
Then turned and strutted out like she owned the company.
The door clicked.
Silence.
Vanessa raised an eyebrow.
— I forgot how warm she is.
Thomas sighed.
— She enjoys reminders.
— And what was that? A reminder… or a warning?
He didn’t answer.
Just went back into his office.
Vanessa picked up her coffee.
Still warm.
Still confusing.
And suddenly not as sweet as it was this morning.
Vanessa lasted another two hours before snapping.
She sat at her desk, pretending to work, while her mind spiraled through Amanda’s smile, Thomas’s soft voice that morning, and the stupid vanilla latte still mocking her from the cupholder.
By 3:47 p.m., she was done.
She stood up, walked into his office, and shut the door behind her.
Thomas didn’t look up.
— Problem?
— Yeah. We need to talk.
He set down his pen. Slowly. Looked up.
— About?
— You.
— Dangerous territory.
— I’m aware.
She crossed her arms.
— I’m trying to figure out what game you’re playing.
He leaned back in his chair, studying her.
— You think this is a game?
— You act like it isn’t. You buy me coffee, you flirt before noon, then your wife walks in like I’m part of some affair-in-progress.
Thomas’s expression didn’t change.
But something behind his eyes flickered.
— I never asked you to get involved in my marriage.
— You didn’t have to. You dropped me in the middle of it the second she sniffed out something between us.
— There is nothing between us.
That stung more than it should have.
She laughed — bitter, sharp.
— Wow. You practiced that line in the mirror, or did Amanda coach you?
He stood.
That fast.
That tense.
— Don’t bring her into this.
— Why not? She’s in it already. She walked in here like she owned you. Like she knew you were slipping. And maybe she does. Maybe I was too stupid to see it.
He walked around the desk. Closer.
But not touching.
Never touching.
— Vanessa. Stop.
— No. You don’t get to play “boss” and “boy with feelings” at the same time. If this is just coffee and office tension for you — fine. Just say it. Don’t… don’t blur the lines and then act like I’m the problem for reading the signs.
Silence.
Thick. Charged.
He looked at her.
Really looked.
And for a moment — just one — he let his guard drop.
— I don’t know what this is.
His voice was quiet now.
Ragged around the edges.
— I don’t know how to want something and keep it separate from the rest of my life. Everything I touch turns into a negotiation.
Vanessa blinked.
Her anger cracked.
Just a little.
— I’m not asking for anything. I’m just… trying not to feel stupid.
He stepped closer.
Too close.
She felt his breath.
Saw the tightness in his jaw. The way his hand flexed, as if he wanted to reach out and didn’t trust himself to.
— You’re not stupid, — he said softly.
Her heart kicked.
Twice.
— Then why does it feel like I am?
Another pause.
And then—
— Because I don’t know how to do this without ruining it.
The confession hung there.
Raw. Real.
Dangerous.
She stepped back first.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she had to.
— Then don’t do it at all, — she whispered. — Not halfway.
She left without waiting for a response.
Didn’t look back.
Didn’t see how long he stood there after the door closed.
Didn’t know he whispered her name once when no one else could hear.
- Writer
