“It’s a little controversial. You’re either for or against. That’s why.” Ethan picks up his pen and he taps it once on the conference room table.
Mr. Copeland side glances him. “Let’s see if you can make magic happen twice in a month. I want your next articles to me by mid-week. And let’s continue with topics people will feel strongly about but stay away from politics and religion.”
“You should stick with the sex.” Cassie pops a bubble.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. I don’t want to write heavy topics, but I don’t want to write all fluff pieces either. I want to help people with my writing. But I can’t argue when Mars And Venus took a chance on me.
“Yes.” Mr. Copeland points to his niece. “Everyone loves to talk about the difference between the sexes. So, Ethan you represent the typical male and you the typical female, Blanca. And I’m going to set up a photo shoot for you two. We need a catchy name for your articles too. Think about that this weekend.” Mr. Copeland stands, and Cassie joins him. “I’m so excited about this, guys. This might just put our small magazine on the map.” He claps once and I jump in my seat.
He leaves and my stomach is a ball of knots.
“Oh relax, it’s going to be fine.”
“Who said I wasn’t fine?” I stand and Ethan slides out his chair from the table.
“You look like you’re about to throw up that horrible bagel you ate.”
I shake my head.
“So, I say we write about whether you should sleep with someone on the first date?” He raises his eyebrows and slides out of the room before me.
I watch his backside the entire way down the hallway. Who are we kidding? I have a bad feeling Ethan and I are on the same side of that debate which doesn’t bode well for tonight.
Chapter Thirteen
Ethan
My phone rings the minute I walk into my apartment with my bags full of groceries.
Clicking on the speaker and placing it on the counter, I unload the bags in my small kitchen.
“Hey Mom.”
“Congratulations. Love the article.”
“Thanks.”
“The girl who writes beside you. Do you like her?”
My mom wouldn’t be my mom if she didn’t drill me all the time.
“Yeah.”
“She’s sweet.”
“Sweet? You can tell that by the article she wrote?”
My mom laughs and I’ll never grow tired of hearing that sound. It so rarely happened when I was younger. “She takes the side of love over anything else. That’s sweet. A tad sheltered and naïve, but sweet.”
“She really has no qualms on dating at work. It’s… interesting.” I unpack the groceries on the counter.
“Oh, you like her.”
I knew I should’ve dodged this line of questioning well before my mom could hear it in my voice.
“I like her too much, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, mi Tesoro,” she coos her usual endearment for me. “All I want is for you to be happy. You know love comes with ups and downs.”
“I haven’t done anything to pursue it. She’s a co-worker, that’s all.”
“Okay, you bring her over for dinner if that changes. Food is the way to a woman’s heart too, you know.”
I blow out a breath and grab my frying pan. There’s no way I can be honest with my mom now. She’ll get invested and it will break her heart when Blanca and I end. She’s had enough heartbreak in her life without me adding to her suffering.
“Yes. I will. How’s it going?” I ask, looking to change the subject to anything else.
“Your dad was in a good place today. I think this Sunday will be a good visit.”
Anything but that.
“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. Work.” Guilt tugs at my insides.
“You need to take that girl out and forget work for a night at least.” Little does she know. “See you in a few days. Love you.”
“Love you, Mom.”
I press end on the phone and lean against the counter for a second.
My entire head has been at war over having Blanca here tonight. She’ll be in my space and there’s no changing that fact. Every time I walk in, I’ll have images to recollect about her on my couch, her in my kitchen and if we’re both on the same page, in my bed.
The images of that would haunt me.
It’d be pure torture.
I pick up my ingredients and put them in the fridge and tuck the frying pan back under the cabinet.
Protect yourself, my brain screams at me.
Grabbing my phone, I type out a quick text message.
A minute later I get the answer I assumed I would. She’s fine with the change of plans. Ignoring my blue balls that say I’m fucking this up, I head to the shower and wash away any doubts.
I sit in the exact same spot I did weeks ago.
“It’s like déjà vu,” Blanca says, taking her purse off and hanging it off the bar height chair before sliding into it next to me. She’s wearing fitted skinny jeans and a loose-fitting shirt tonight and all I can fixate on are the shape of her legs crossing over one another.
“Sorry for the change of plans.”
She shrugs. “I’m used to the noncommittal with you.”
I swivel on my bar stool, abandoning my beer. “I’m sorry.”
She nods but I can tell she doesn’t truly believe me. I wouldn’t either if I was her.
“Why did you come?” I ask because if I was her, I wouldn’t have. I would have told me to fuck off and walked in the opposite direction.
“I like you.” She says it simply as if there isn’t much else to know.
The bartender comes over, a different one from the other night, but Blanca orders the same drink. This time she orders her dinner immediately and looks at me for me to order mine.
“Tacos,” I say, and Blanca shakes her head, laughing to herself.
After the bartender leaves, I grab my beer again. “Did you expect for me to change our plans tonight?”
She shrugs one shoulder, her eyes watching the bartender prepare her margarita. “I think you’re a nice guy, Ethan. Confused and unsure of what you want right now. But we’re co-workers and Phil Copeland obviously wants us to work closely on this whole opposing views thing, so we have to get along.”
“And that’s why you’re here? To have a cordial work relationship?”
It shouldn’t feel like a knife to the gut. I felt we shared something special. Something I’ve never had with anyone else. But I’ve been the one trying to cool things off, so I shouldn’t care if that’s the only reason she’s here. Shouldn’t, but I do.
She laughs, accepting her margarita from the bartender who has eyed her chest one too many times for my liking. “Not at first. I’ll be honest because I’m not a bullshit or play games kind of person. That first night on the train I was...” Her eyes meet mine. “I really liked you. I felt this pull. When I walked into work on my first Monday morning and there you were, I thought it was a sign and I am not a person who believes in fate or kismet or anything. Then you asked me out only for me to find out it was a work thing, not a romantic date because you don’t believe in dating your co-workers. Which I understood. Then you ask me out last week but say nothing about it until today. You were going to cook for me but now we’re back at the taco place. And to think they say women are confusing. So at this point in our” —she waggles her finger back and forth between us— “whatever we are, I figure work friends will have to do since I don’t see either one of us going anywhere soon.”