Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 168(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
A quick glance at my computer reveals that the stupid thing is finally functioning once more. Thank god. Needing some help to keep my mind off of all of the ‘what could have been’ thoughts, I slip on my headphones and begin to blast old school rock.
For a while, the distraction works. I dive into another project, moving to the music as I type furiously, my fingers hitting the keys in time to the beat. Outside, the cold rain continues to pelt down against the windowpanes.
The next time I look up, at least an hour has passed.
I blink a few times, surprised. I take off the headphones and stretch back into my chair.
Well, one hour down, a lifetime to go.
My bitter spiral doesn’t seem to be ending, so I wonder if a slight change of scenery might do the trick.
I grab my well-used coffee mug and slink out of my cubicle. It’s getting close to lunch time and the office is emptying out. I’m grateful for the quiet because it means that no one sees the frown on my face. Or at least they can’t be bothered to comment on it directly.
Good luck finally strikes when I find that the coffee pot in the community kitchen is not only full, but freshly made too. I pour myself a steaming cup and inhale deeply, soaking in the comforting aroma.
“Ah, Morgan!” Michael, our overly chipper HR lead, bounces into the room. “Coffee huh?”
I wince but don’t turn around, pretending that I’m still busy at the counter. I like Michael because he’s a friendly, grandfatherly type. But I don’t feel like being social at the moment.
“Yep,” I tell him, dumping creamer into my mug.
“Great! I’m showing our newest hire around but figured we could both use a cup of joe. Oh, this is Morgan.”
“Hi Morgan.”
The voice is deep, and oddly familiar. Could it be…? I spin around so quickly that I almost drop my steaming mug. As it is, a small amount of hot liquid splashes out of the rim and onto the floor, but I don’t care. My world feels like it’s crashing in on itself, and I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad sensation.
“Hi,” I respond breathlessly, my heart beating uncontrollably. “It’s nice to see you, Brax.”
“Oh great, you two have met already!” Michael chirps, oblivious to the lightning crashing in the room. “Braxton, sugar or cream in your coffee?”
“Black, thanks.” My lover remains in the entryway, his blue eyes observing me in detail. He’s huge, with the broad shoulders that I remember, and that massive, deep chest. But his black hair is brushed back neatly, and he’s dressed in office-appropriate workwear, including a button-down and pressed pants. Where’s his loincloth? Where are the soft sandals he wore around Mirago?
I pull at my ratty cardigan and absently run a hand through my hair, which I’m certain I haven’t washed all week.
“So Braxton, did you tell Morgan what you’ll be doing here?”
Yeah, that’d be nice to know! My heart is beating so loudly I’m sure that both men can hear the loud thumps. I grip the edge of the counter for support—and to fight the urge to run into Brax’s arms.
“Braxton is joining the Public Works team upstairs, focusing on environmental impact projects,” Michael explains, handing Brax a coffee as he talks. “Where are you from again, Brax?”
“A small island in the Caribbean,” he answers, still watching me. “It’s tiny, and it’s in trouble because global warming has been destroying the waters around our island for years. Now, there’s a rapid increase in aquatic wildlife dying off too,” he explains, looking directly at me the entire time. I can’t read his expression.
“Right,” Michael adds, “and Brax has been working for years on how to counter this problem in his homeland. He’s been successful too! Now, he brings his methods of aquatic preservation to New York because we’re also experiencing the effects of climate change.”
I stare at Brax, trying to grasp all of this new information even as I grapple with my shock.
“So, you’re moving to New York?” I ask in a faint voice. Michael gives me a strange look but doesn’t say anything.
“I am,” Brax says simply. “There’s a lot for me here. I hope so, anyways.”
My heart pounds at his words and I clench the countertop tightly.
“Well, I’m curious to hear more about your vision,” I manage to say in a steady voice. “You’ll be an asset to the city.” Meanwhile, my heart is a flurry of emotions—surprise, panic, joy. A little bit of anger.
“Ah crackerjack,” Michael interrupts. We both look at him. “I spilled some coffee on my tie. Give me a second, Braxton. I better go see what I can do about it in the bathroom because dry cleaning in this city is not cheap.”
Michael scoots around Brax, forcing him to step further into the tiny break room before exiting. We’re suddenly very close, and very much alone.