Simon glanced at his watch, then back at me. "Well, Norman, we've covered a lot of ground today. What do you say we continue this discussion over dinner? There's a restaurant nearby that I think you'd enjoy."
Feeling buoyed by our newfound understanding and the exciting project ahead, I smiled. "That sounds great but don't we live together? We can just eat at the apart—"
I froze mid-sentence, the realization of what I was saying hitting me like a bucket of ice water. My eyes widened, and I felt the color drain from my face.
Simon raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite read.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing to recover. "I, uh... I meant... That is..."
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I had nearly casually referred to living with Simon as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Simon's eyes never left my face, observing my internal struggle with keen interest. "Are you alright, Norman? You seem a bit... flustered."
I took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. "I'm fine. Sorry, I just... lost my train of thought for a moment. Dinner at a restaurant sounds great."
As we wrapped up our meeting, Simon stood, a playful glint in his eye. "Well then, it's a date. Seven o'clock."
I blinked, caught off guard by his choice of words.
But before I could formulate a response, Simon was already moving towards the door, signaling the end of our conversation.
The rest of the workday passed in a blur. I tried to focus on my tasks, but my mind kept drifting back to the project, the dinner, and Simon's casual use of the word "date."
As the clock struck six, I packed up my things and headed to the lobby. I stood near the entrance, nervously adjusting my tie as I waited for Simon.
"Norman?"
I turned to see Sarah approaching, her bag slung over her shoulder. She glanced around, then back at me, curiosity evident in her expression.
"Hey Sarah," I replied, trying to keep my voice casual.
"Waiting for someone?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing at her lips.
I felt a flush creeping up my neck. "Oh, uh, just... meeting someone for dinner. Work-related."
Sarah's eyebrows raised slightly. "Work-related dinner, huh? With your mysterious benefactor, perhaps?"
I laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. Just then, I spotted Simon exiting the elevator, his eyes scanning the lobby.
"I should go," I said quickly to Sarah. "Have a good night."
As I moved towards Simon, I could feel Sarah's gaze following me. I knew there would be questions tomorrow, but for now, I focused on the evening ahead, my stomach a knot of anticipation and unease.
Simon smiled as I approached. "Ready, Norman?"
I nodded, acutely aware of Sarah still watching us.
As we stepped out of the building, a gust of cold air hit us, carrying with it small flakes of snow. I shivered, pulling my coat tighter around me.
"Snow? In October?" I muttered, glancing up at the grey sky. "Seems a bit early, doesn't it?"
Simon nodded, his breath visible in the chilly air. "Climate's been unpredictable lately." He started to shrug off his jacket. "Here, take my coat. You look cold."
I shook my head quickly. "No, no, I'm fine. Thanks though."
Simon hesitated for a moment, then put his jacket back on. "If you're sure. Oh, and I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of calling a car for us. It should be here any minute."
I frowned slightly, confusion creeping in. "A car? But didn't you drive to work today?"
"I did," Simon replied smoothly, "but I thought it might be nice to relax and not worry about parking in the city. Plus, we can discuss the project without distractions."
As he spoke, Simon stepped forward and opened the rear door. "After you, Norman," he said with a slight smile.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling that familiar flush of embarrassment. Simon's chivalrous gesture, while polite, always made me feel oddly... feminine. The fact that he was younger than me only added to my discomfort.
"Thanks," I mumbled, ducking into the car.
Simon slid in after me, settling into the seat much closer than I expected. Our shoulders nearly touched, and I could smell his cologne – a rich, woody scent that seemed to fill the confined space.
I shifted slightly, trying to create some distance without being obvious about it. But the movement only seemed to highlight how little space there was between us.
"Comfortable?" Simon asked, his voice low and close to my ear.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. As the car pulled away from the curb, I couldn't help but be acutely aware of Simon's proximity. The warmth of his body seemed to radiate through the small gap between us.
As the car wound its way through the snow-dusted streets, I found myself becoming increasingly aware of every small movement Simon made. Each time he shifted, his arm or leg would brush against mine, sending a jolt of nervous energy through me.
"So, Norman," Simon said, turning slightly towards me, which only decreased the already minimal space between us. "I was thinking about the data encryption aspect of our project. What are your initial thoughts?"
I tried to focus on his words, to formulate a coherent response, but the proximity was distracting. "I, uh... I think it's crucial, obviously. But I'm not sure about the specifics yet."
Simon nodded, his knee bumping mine as the car took a turn. "Of course. We'll dive deeper into that. I'm excited to hear your ideas as we progress."
As he spoke, I noticed his hand resting on the seat between us, mere inches from my thigh. Was it my imagination, or was it inching closer?
I cleared my throat, attempting to steer the conversation to safer ground. "How far is this restaurant?"
"Not too far now," Simon replied, his eyes never leaving my face. "Feeling hungry?"
There was something in his tone, a hint of... something I couldn't quite place, that made me even more uncomfortable.
"Yeah, starving," I lied.
The drive seemed to stretch on endlessly, each minute feeling like an hour. I silently prayed for the restaurant to appear, for this uncomfortably intimate car ride to end.
We drove further into the unfamiliar part of the city and Simon leaned in slightly, his voice low. "You seem tense, Norman. Is everything alright, dear?"
I blinked, caught off guard. Had he just called me 'dear'? No, surely I must have misheard.
"I'm alright, thank you," I replied, my voice sounding strained.
Simon nodded. "We'll be there soon."
"So, about the project," I began, desperate to shatter the tension settling between us. "You mentioned data encryption earlier..."
"Ah yes," Simon interrupted smoothly. "We'll have plenty of time to discuss that over dinner, dear. For now, why don't you tell me more about your day? How are things going with your coworkers?"
There it was again - 'dear'. This time I was sure I'd heard it correctly. But Simon had said it so casually, so naturally, that I found myself doubting whether it was strange at all.
For a moment, I debated whether to say anything. Part of me wanted to let it slide, to avoid making the situation more awkward than it already was. But another part of me knew I needed to address it.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself to address it. "Simon, about that-"
The car suddenly took a sharp turn, catching me off guard. I lost my balance, sliding across the smooth leather seat and colliding with Simon. My shoulder pressed against his chest, my hand inadvertently landing on his thigh to brace myself.
In that moment, I could feel Simon's body go completely ridgid. The flow of conversation abruptly ceased. The silence in the car was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the muffled sound of tires on snow.
I quickly tried to right myself, mumbling an apology as I did so. But as I pulled away, I noticed Simon hadn't moved an inch. He sat there, frozen, his eyes fixed straight ahead. It was as if he had turned to stone.
"Simon?" I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper. "Are you okay?"
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Simon took a deep, shuddering exhale. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were dark, filled with an intensity I'd never seen before.
But something had changed. The easy charm, his cheerful demeanor - it was all gone, replaced by something raw and barely contained. Simon shifted in his seat, putting a bit more distance between us.
When the car finally came to a stop, and as I looked out the window, my heart sank. I recognized the elegant façade of the restaurant immediately - it was the same place Emily had taken me, where I'd been humiliated and left with an empty wallet and crushed hopes.
Simon turned to me, his composure seemingly regained. "Have you been here before, Norman?"
I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. The memory of that disastrous evening with Emily was still painfully fresh - her disdain, my naivety, the astronomical bill. The thought of admitting to Simon that I'd been so thoroughly played made my stomach churn.
"No," I lied, avoiding his gaze. "I've never been here. Looks... nice."
Simon nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Ah, you're in for a treat then. They have an excellent menu."
As we exited the car, I tried to push down the wave of embarrassment and anxiety threatening to overwhelm me. The last thing I wanted was to relive that evening, especially with Simon. How could I explain spending a small fortune on dinner with a woman who'd turned out to be nothing but a gold digger? How could I admit to being so thoroughly duped?
Walking towards the entrance, I silently prayed that we wouldn't have the same waiter.
"After you," Simon said, gesturing for me to enter first.
As we approached the table, Simon stepped ahead and pulled out my chair. I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the gesture, before awkwardly taking my seat. Simon smoothly pushed the chair in as I sat, his hands briefly resting on my shoulders before he moved to his own seat.
As we settled into our seats, the intimate atmosphere of the restaurant became impossible to ignore. The lighting was dim, casting a warm glow over the table. Soft music played in the background, and I couldn't help but notice that most of the other diners appeared to be couples.
Simon didn't open his menu immediately. Instead, he gazed at me with an intensity that made me shift uncomfortably in my seat.
"You seem tense, Norman," he observed, his voice low. "Is everything alright?"
I forced a smile, trying to appear relaxed. "No, no.. Just... hungry, I guess."
Simon nodded, "Well, we'll remedy that soon enough."
As we settled into our seats, Simon leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on me. "So, Norman, You received my email earlier on the project details?"
I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the intimate atmosphere of the restaurant. "It looks... interesting. Challenging, but in a good way."
"I'm glad to hear that." Simon agreed, "I had a feeling you'd be up for the challenge."
I expected him to delve into the project details, but instead, he changed the subject. "Tell me, how are you adjusting to your new living arrangements?"
I blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. Wasn't this supposed to be a work dinner? "Oh, um, it's fine. A bit more spacious than I'm used to."
"And how are the repairs on your apartment coming along? Have you heard anything from your landlord?" Simon asked.
The question caught me off guard. With everything that had been happening, I'd almost forgotten about my apartment situation. "Oh, um... actually, I haven't heard anything back from my landlord yet."
Simon nodded, as if this was entirely expected. "Ah, well, that's not unusual in these situations. Landlords often get tied up with contractors, insurance companies, you know how it is."
I frowned slightly, surprised by his nonchalant response. "Really? I thought they'd at least give me an update or something."
Simon waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, you know how these things go. No news is often good news in the world of repairs. They're probably just busy getting everything sorted out."
His casual attitude made me second-guess my own concerns. "I suppose you're right. I just thought I'd have heard something by now."
"Don't worry about it," Simon said, his tone reassuring. "These things take time. And as I've said before, you're welcome to stay with me as long as you need. There's no rush.
I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and unease at his words. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."
Simon smiled breezily. "It's my pleasure, Norman. I enjoy having you around."
There was something in his tone that made me uneasy. I tried to steer the conversation back to work. "About the project's timeline—"
"No need to worry about that now," Simon interrupted smoothly. "We have all evening to discuss work. For now, let's just enjoy the meal.
As the waiter approached with our menus, I gratefully hid behind mine, away from Simon's intense gaze.
I scanned the menu, searching for prices, and I felt my confusion growing. Every dish was described in elaborate detail, but there wasn't a single number to be found.
"Is everything alright, Norman?" Simon's voice cut through my thoughts. "You look puzzled."
I glanced up, realizing my bewilderment must have been obvious. "Oh, I... I'm just having trouble deciding," I lied, not wanting to admit I was looking for the cheapest option.
Simon's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Ah, I see. You're looking for the prices, aren't you?"
Caught out, I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "Well, I..."
"There's no need to worry about that," Simon said smoothly. "This dinner is my treat. Please, order whatever you'd like."
The memory of my last expensive meal here with Emily flashed through my mind, making me even more uncomfortable. "That's very generous, but I couldn't possibly—"
"I insist," Simon interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Consider it part of your... compensation for the extra work you'll be doing on our project."
I shifted in my seat, "Thank you," I mumbled, returning my gaze to the menu.
"Might I suggest the filet mignon?" Simon offered. "It's excellent here."
I nodded weakly, knowing full well that was probably one of the most expensive items available.
As the waiter approached, Simon ordered for both of us. I couldn't help but notice how he didn't even glance at the menu, as if he knew it by heart.
Once the waiter left, Simon leaned in slightly. I was thinking we could go over those reports tomorrow evening, dear. Unless you'd prefer to relax? I know you've been working hard lately."
I tensed as the term of endearment left his lips, reminding me of the moment in the car when I'd been about to address it. I opened my mouth to say something, but then I glanced around at the other diners.
The restaurant was quiet, with only the soft clink of cutlery and murmured conversations filling the air.
I shifted in my seat, torn between addressing the 'dear' issue and responding to his suggestion. "I... I suppose we could look at them," I managed, deciding to leave it for now.
Simon nodded, his expression softening. "No pressure. We can always do it over the weekend if you'd rather have a quiet evening tomorrow."
As Simon continued talking about the project, I sat rigidly in my chair, hands balled into fists on my knees under the table. The intimate atmosphere of the restaurant felt suffocating, and I struggled to focus on Simon's words.
Suddenly, Simon paused mid-sentence. His expression softened as he leaned forward, reaching across the table. Before I could react, his hand was on mine, warm and firm.
"Norman, are you alright? You seem tense," he said, his voice laced with concern.
The touch sent a jolt through me. I recoiled instinctively, pulling my hand away and abruptly standing up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor, drawing a few curious glances from nearby diners.
"I... I need to use the restroom," I stammered, avoiding Simon's gaze. "Excuse me."
Without waiting for a response, I turned and hurried towards the back of the restaurant, desperate to put some distance between us. I could feel Simon's eyes on me as I walked away, but I didn't dare look back.
Once in the bathroom, I leaned against the sink, my heart racing. What was happening? Why did Simon's touch affect me so strongly? And how was I going to make it through the rest of this dinner?
I splashed some cold water on my face, trying to regain my composure. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in over my head. But what choice did I have? I couldn't just walk out on my boss, on this project.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself, preparing myself to face Simon again.
When I returned to the table, I was surprised to see Simon standing, holding two sleek takeout boxes. The table had been cleared, and Simon was already putting on his coat.
"What's going on?" I asked, confusion evident in my voice.
Simon smiled, a hint of concern in his eyes. "I took the liberty of having our meals packed up. I noticed you seemed uncomfortable with the atmosphere here."
Before I could respond, Simon was gently ushering me towards the exit. "Come on, let's head out."
As we stepped into the cool night air, I felt a mix of relief and bewilderment. Simon's actions had caught me completely off guard.
We walked a few steps down the street before Simon spoke again. "I thought we could finish our dinner back at the apartment. It'll be more relaxed there, and we can continue our discussion in a more comfortable setting."
I blinked, processing his words. It was an oddly considerate gesture, one I hadn't expected from Simon. Part of me was grateful to be out of the restaurant's intimate atmosphere, but another part wondered about the implications of continuing our dinner at the apartment.
"That's... thoughtful of you," I managed to say, still trying to wrap my head around the sudden change of plans.
Simon nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I want you to be comfortable, Norman. This project is important, but not at the expense of your well-being."
As we walked to the car, a tense silence hung between us. Simon's casual intimacy during dinner had left me unsettled, and the term "dear" kept echoing in my mind.
We settled into the car, and as the driver started the engine, I found myself wrestling with whether to bring it up.
It's probably nothing, I thought. Maybe he uses it with everyone.
As we pulled out onto the street, I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again.
What if I'm overreacting? What if he gets offended?
We just repaired our relationship, get a grip.
But hadn't he also told me to come to him with any of my doubts?
I took a deep breath, steeling myself.
"Simon," I began, my voice slightly shaky, "I wanted to ask you about something."
He glanced at me, a calm and open expression on his face. "Of course, Norman. What is it?"
"It's just…." I hesitated for a moment, then pressed on. "I've noticed you've been calling me 'dear'
The words hung in the air between us as I waited for Simon's response, my heart pounding in my chest.
Simon turned to me, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. "Have I? I suppose I hadn't noticed."
Simon chuckled softly, his charm in full force. "Let me explain."
"It's just an old habit of mine," he began, "a term of endearment I use with people I'm close to. I suppose our work on this project and our current living situation made me feel we'd developed that kind of rapport."
I shifted in my seat, both relieved and somehow more unsettled by his easy explanation. "O-oh, I see…"
"But if I'm wrong I certainly apologize. I'll understand completely if you'd prefer to maintain a more... distant dynamic."
The subtle implication in his words made me shift uncomfortably.
"I value our working relationship greatly, sir." I found myself saying, attempting to clarify my feelings.
"No need to explain," Simon interjected smoothly. "Everyone has different comfort levels. It's me who should've been more mindful. I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize the trust we've built. It's rare to find someone I can rely on so completely in this industry."
His words, though delivered in a respectful tone, left me feeling as if I'd somehow failed him. I found myself backpedaling. "I suppose it's not really a problem if you use it occasionally..."
Simon's smile was warm, yet somehow restrained. "Only if you're truly comfortable, Norman. Your boundaries are important to me."
As we continued the drive, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just been expertly maneuvered. But Simon's apparent sincerity made it hard to hold onto my earlier concerns.
"You know, Norman, I was thinking we could have a nightcap after we finish our dinner. What do you say?"
The suggestion caught me off guard. "Oh, um, sure. That sounds fine."
Simon nodded, his tone warm yet somehow intimate. "Excellent. I have that whiskey you seemed to enjoy the other night."
I blinked, surprised he'd noticed my preference. "That's... thoughtful of you."
"Of course," Simon replied smoothly. "I like to pay attention to these things. Oh, and don't worry about setting an alarm for tomorrow. I'll wake you up in time for work."
The domesticity in his voice was striking. It was as if we'd been married for years, not just coworkers sharing a temporary living arrangement.
As we pulled up to the apartment, Simon reached over, patting my knee gently. "Home sweet home. Ready to go?"
As I followed Simon into the apartment, my mind reeled from the events of the evening. While he busied himself reheating our meal, I went to the living room and sank onto the couch, a mixture of exhaustion and confusion washing over me.
Moments later, Simon approached me, fork and takeout container in hand. "I thought we could eat in here tonight," he said, his tone casual.
I blinked, taken aback by his suggestion. I had always pictured Simon as someone who insisted on proper meals at the table.
I suppose that despite our differences in status and demeanor, at the end of the day, we were both just men. Well, not quite the same - he was infinitely more successful, handsome, intelligent and outgoing. But still, a man nonetheless.
I couldn't help but compare myself to Simon. He commanded respect effortlessly, his charm and poise unmatched. Next to him, I felt small. Unremarkable. Inadequate.
Lost in these spiraling thoughts, I barely noticed when he cleared away the empty containers. It wasn't until a glass of whiskey appeared under my nose that I snapped back to the present moment.
"A nightcap, as promised," Simon smiled, settling close beside me on the couch, his own glass in hand.
As we sat sipping our whiskey, Simon turned to me, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You know, Norman, I have a feeling this project is going to be a turning point for you."