"You're not upset. . .still?" I leaned forward a bit as I pushed a hot cup of decaf in Nicholas's way, just as he lifted his head frowning as he closed the lid of his laptop.
Nicholas had a way with clothes or maybe it was his tall structure and physique, or just the way his hair fell so luxuriantly past his shoulder and brought out the outline of his jaw, or maybe I was being obsessive with noting every detail concerning him. Sure, I surely found this to be annoying and weird, but I always found myself in awe of the way his cheekbones sat on his face or how he sometimes frowned or furrowed his eyebrows whenever he said a certain something. And to be completely honest, his slight accent, though he often did his best, I noticed, to carry his words much smoother and to, essentially, hide it was attractive. Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn't been around any male companions for a long time and so my eyes were curious and sometimes did a little wondering here and there.
He pushed his hair from his face, though it never really was, and to be honest, I was sure his good looks and loose hair which was definitely past his shoulders, and his almost easy attitude sold him in a certain light to fellow business associates and rivalries–it didn't seem to bother him. Nicholas walked into a room and left his head by the door, I carried mine with me and there was nothing I didn't do with passion, especially when an opportunity represented itself, and of course, I had the brains for it and could adequately optimize my capabilities to solve a problem or further myself. However, being a waitress barely required that, and having a smart mouth was surely not going to help me pay my bills, whether I had a degree to my name or not, it didn't matter and I was used to being that way. The only reason I had acted was that I had gotten annoyed by the somewhat 'subtle display', it had rubbed me off the wrong way.
He leaned forward as he arched his eyebrow. "About what? Leaving me stranded. . .or canceling last minute?"
"It wasn't even that formal." I tried my best to keep my eyes on his.
"It was still business."
With Nicholas one could never really tell and his expressions were often unreadable and sometimes just a bit too calm and I was sure as the earth was round that he chose to do so to keep the intimate parts of his mind and most definitely his soul to himself, but sadly, he couldn't leave mine.
"You know those people and...I don't. " I wiped my palms down my long skirt, hating how I couldn't remain as calm as he was.
Nicholas sighed. "It doesn't go that way."
He was right, again, unfortunately, and I had just become too truthful, and a bit too much for my comfort. "I'm aware."
"I figured you'd be okay with going."
"Why?" My eyebrows shot up speedily.
Nicholas frowned as he looked at me with a look I so hated and that almost resembled the one that could easily devastate me–pity. My eyes fell to the floor briefly as I lifted them again and dared myself to not acknowledge the slight sting burning at the back of my eyes.
"I'm not accusing you, you don't have to defend yourself here. . .I'm not fighting with you." That awful look hung in his eyes despite how I just wanted to pretend it wasn't there.
I hated how tiny the sorry's that people carried within their eyes made me feel or how crippled by what I wanted nothing more than to escape I often became. I had cried enough about it and had given up on myself every day trying to soothe or escape my devastating and suffocating agony, I had bid that fragile and fractured being a farewell or had hidden her properly at the back of my mind. Why did everyone insist on holding on to her? Why did they not want to let her go? Why did they still see her? How come they still saw her in me despite my efforts? Why did she do this to me? Why was I so pathetic?
Inside my head, I guess I was a mess of questions I was so terrified to answer, but I couldn't afford to be on the outside in my grey skirt and slightly baggy shirt I had tugged in.
Nicholas Kang didn't know a thing about me and I repeated that until I could form a smile. And I guess then it felt easier to wrap myself in this short-lived cacoon of denial and pretense. Deep down I was aware of everything, I knew it–it made me feel okay.
"You don't have to worry yourself too much, I'm fine," I said, politely. "You don't have to. . .bring me to those kinds of. . .dinners, I'm just your assistant."
He tapped the styrofoam cup gently with his eyebrows furrowed. "I'm aware of that, you don't miss a day to remind me of my. . .place."
"I don't mean. . .I'm –"
"I'm not upset." He cocked his head to one side.
"You don't have to say that, you can criticize me or. . .not like something I say," I said, folding my arms as I eyed the carefully detailed and well-decorated potplant instead of the actual plant or Nicholas. "I don't want any special treatment."
"Before you ask me again. . .I'm not upset." He leaned into the chair and closed his eyes with his hands intertwined on top of his abdomen.
"Why not?" I lifted my eyes and almost flung them his way as I caught myself curious.
"You want me to be?" His voice was as smooth as warm honey as he carried the words lightly though I could tell, somehow, that, perhaps, I had upset him this time.
"Whose offended now?" I attempted at making this light so he would let it rest and I would be able to escape this office and his attempts to get to know me or to understand me–I hated it. Yes, perhaps, I was curious about him but I didn't make it his business or anything, I just wondered about this and that by myself. It wasn't a hidden deal to some extent and maybe he was getting past people's walls, but mine was there for a reason. "You don't like it when I prickle a bit closer to home."
Nicholas frowned and my words sort of replayed themselves and they didn't sound like anything close to what I had thought they had sounded as–they were far from 'light'. "Is that what you think? That I'm trying to deliberately offend you? Why would I?"
"I wasn't saying that," I said, pushing a stubborn curl that had fallen out of my bun, at some point, behind my ear.
"It sounded like it."
"What I'm trying to say is–"
He was fast. "You don't want my help."
I tried to gather words that would at least sound less intense and simply failed because for the most part, all I did was open and part my mouth as if was a fish out of water.
"It would've been. . .nice if you had shown and met these people." He chose to let me have this–to win for once.
"They are also your friends and...I'm you assistant. . .not your partner or anything," I said, reaching for that curl again.
It wasn't even there but the habit helped me deal with the look he carried within his eyes better. "And that means me seeing you. . .your real self then? Is that why you're so. . .offfended by the thought?"
"I'm not offended." I tried to pull a poker face and my eyes could barely stay on his.
He gathered his hands before himself as he looked at me. "You're smart. . .and serving coffee isn't your 'thing' and we both are aware of this."
I was fine with him just ignoring me and demanding coffee and files. And not even knowing my name–that was easy. This was hard and complicated and unnecessary, it simply made me feel far from safe and so fragile. Being open was the last thing on my mind and my job was my job, I appreciated it. I was just not going to act as if it wasn't better than anything that had been offered to me the entire year–a way to pay my bills flexibly.
What I deserved and didn't was mine to consider. And it wasn't as if I hadn't tried, I had and life had knocked me down quite hard–I just wanted to be okay at this point and forget certain things.
"What's my 'thing' then?" It slipped out harshly.
"You have a lot of guts."
"Is that all that has impressed you? My. . .guts?" Again my words seemed to betray me as his face slightly stiffens as he looks at me.
"It isn't even half of who you are." Nicholas started easily, carrying these words with a lot of conviction in his eyes.
"Why does it even matter?"
"It does and. . .it doesn't at some time." Nicholas ran his fingers through his hair effortlessly. "You'll just never know if you don't try. . .I'm doing as I would any staff member, by the way."
"I'm sorry I didn't show up then." I sighed.
"I'm not trying to get anything out of you, you're just more. . .but if it makes you feel better for me to not try. . .then I won't," Nicholas said, unaffected as he looked at me. "This is your workspace as it is mine and therefore, there are lines I can't step over, especially regarding your comfort."
The formality sort of offended me but I didn't utter a word besides one simple word. "Okay."
I was just not sure whether I liked my response or not.
I wasn't even sure about questioning it and deep down I was well aware I trying to defend myself–trying to not lose. And trying so awfully hard to not lose what was left of myself.
I needed to not shatter further and that kept me going–it kept me sane.