It’s either that or doing something drastic like “accidentally” photocopying my butt as the ultimate procrastination.
I realize that I’m still holding the phone.
Shit. “Okay, so thank you.”
I quickly hang up, reaching for my favorite mug with the Winter Camellia printed on it, and decide I need a refill. Heading to the break room to get more chocolate milk is just what I need to get my head back in the game. And yes — I am a grown ass woman drinking chocolate milk out of a flower mug. What can I say? It’s not a crime, it’s my guilty pleasure.
Throw in some ice and it tastes like a milk shake, la di da!
I’m so fancy.
Cell in the palm of my hand (because it goes with me everywhere, let’s be honest), I head upstairs one floor where the good break room is. Just as I exit the elevator, my heart skips a beat when I see a LoveSwept message from Steve.
Steve: Haven’t heard from you in awhile. Just wanted to pop on and tell you how excited I am for tomorrow night!
For weeks, he and I have been flirting over an online dating app. He seems kind and smart and genuine. I love the mysterious vibe he has, along with the faceless pics he uses. His looks remain to be seen, because he’s that guy online with silhouette pictures or, worse, a blurry face, but I will say this: his profile boasts a strong nose and chiseled jawline.
Gainfully employed. Athletic. Loves to travel and is looking for his partner in crime.
Hellooo, he’s a keeper, I just know it. And did I mention, his witty banter is on. point.
Better still, he’s asked me if I’d be his New Year’s Eve date! New Year’s Eve with Steve.
New Year’s Steve.
“Ha! That’s funny. Good one Felicity.”
Oh man, I need to get out more. My jokes suck.
But I can’t go anywhere until I have to get these last accounts reviewed, and the light keeps making my eyes bug out, so it would appear that I’m at something of an impasse.
Which means, I have to take matters into my own hands, and handle the lighting situation in my office myself. And by myself, I mean I’m going to go hunt someone down, not fix the actual problem. Once I get my chocolate fix, of course.
My phone screen illuminates again, Steve’s name popping up and making my heart sore.
Steve: Less than 24 hours!
Ugh, he is so romantic!
Mug in hand, I hang a right toward the break room, wandering through the lobby, heading toward the bank of elevators on this floor.
New Year’s decorations are on full display out here, too, spreading that McGinnis holiday cheer.
The McGinnis Agency may be known for representing some of the best and biggest sports names in the world and raking in millions upon millions of dollars in commission rates per year, but if the company goes belly up? They can always move into holiday party planning.
No expense is spared on a McGinnis Office party. Even the elevators are decorated. Pretty sure someone even put up some mistletoe in there until HR made them take it down (and I’m pretty sure it was Meg).
Funny how Skeeter down in maintenance jumped right on that. I saw the crotchety old goat tearing it down with a grin on his face.
New Year’s Eve falls on a Friday this year, which means we’ll all still be working. Maybe not a full work day, but the staff is supposed to be here just the same. Sports agents never get a day off; not when their clients are playing in championships, Pro-Bowls, tournaments, play-offs, games — you name it — on any given holiday.
I may just be an accountant, but I put in the hours, too.
Me: Hey, I was just thinking about you. I’m excited too! And technically it’s eighteen hours, thirty-two minutes — but who’s counting LOL.
Just as I’m about to slide my cell into the tiny pocket of my pencil skirt, my phone pings again.
“Eeek!” I squeal that his reply only takes a few moments — something I love about him — marveling at the fact that Steve isn’t the type of guy who waits to text back purposely to play it cool.
My bunny slippers shuffle along the tile floor as I make my way to the break room fridge.
Yes, I’m wearing bunny slippers with my business attire with no shame. At least I have a skirt on. You never know when someone important is going to request a Zoom meeting, and you find out the hard way your camera angle is set wrong.
I’ve never been caught in a precarious position like that, mostly because my co-worker Frank learned that lesson for us all.
Twice.
I really shouldn’t know he’s a Fruit of the Loom whitey-tighty kind of man.
I swipe right and open Steve’s newest message.
Steve: Good thing one of us is good with numbers.
I take a quick moment to do a happy dance, then blow out a calming breath and type.
Me: It’s not the nerdiest thing about me, you know. I was on the chess team in fifth grade, so there.
Steve: Oh yeah? I had braces in college.
Braces in college?
That makes me laugh.
Me: Aww, I bet you were adorable.
Steve: Yeah, NO. Literally not a single person thought it was adorable, and by person, I mean girls.
Me: Lucky for me I guess.
See? I can be flirty when I want to be.
Steve: What are you up to right now?
Me: Eh, just some boring work stuff. Need to get it all done so we can finally meet face to face tomorrow.
Steve: Are you nervous at all?
Actually…
Yes.
YES. I am nervous!
I want to text him “MY GOD YES!” but know that’s probably not the best idea. Makes me sound eager and spastic. No need to scare the poor guy away — let him get used to me first before he finds out what an utter goofball I am. No, it’s best to play this aloof.
Me: I feel like it’s been a long time coming. Fingers crossed we enjoy each other in person as much as we do online.
There is nothing worse than two weeks’ worth of build up for one giant evening of a letdown. Believe me, I know. This will be my third match in the past two months, and no matter what my gut is telling me about this one, there’s always a chance it’s going to flop.
Me: Fingers crossed for chemistry!
“Honest, yet not too desperate, wouldn’t you agree,” I say down to my bunny slippers who wiggle in agreement.
My phone dings again, but I force myself to pour my glass of milk first. I have a good feeling about this guy, but there’s always that one percent who wonders if it’s actually a catfish on the other end.
Once my mug is full and the milk is secured back in the fridge, I take a look.
Steve: So how long are you going to be at work today? It’s a holiday.
Me: You consider New Year’s Eve-Eve the holiday?
Steve: I consider every holiday the holiday, Hallmark or not.
Oh my god, Meg would love him. She absolutely cannot get enough of Christmas. Christmas trees, decorating, ugly sweaters, ridiculous earrings shaped like ornaments, lights, tinsel…
The list goes on and on and she would adore Steve.
Me: Which one is your favorite?
Steve: Definitely Christmas and Valentine’s Day. Haven’t celebrated that one in years though, but my dad used to break out all the stops for Mom and that what’s I’m looking for too.
Swoon!
Clutching my phone to my heart, I feel my knees go weak. If Steve is half as sweet in person as he is online, I won’t care what he looks like.