“A happy hour tonight sounds amazing,” I say. Jocko really is a good-looking guy. I saw him without a shirt once, at a mutual friend’s summer rooftop pool party. Let’s just say those are abs that a girl doesn’t forget. Now, every time I see him, I can’t help but imagine them under his suit.
Of course, Mark had a nice physique, too, but even with all of the workouts he did, he never had that six-pack guys get…not that it mattered to me. Most guys don’t ever get that gym-rat build unless they’re…well, gym rats, and I’d rather they spent more time with me than they do at the gym.
“Alright, well, I need to get back to work,” Rhonda announces. She backs away, and makes a gesture pointing between me and Jocko, and then gives a maybe? shrug as she heads back to her desk.
Is she out of her mind?
“What just happened there?” Jocko asks, standing up straighter.
Shoot. Literally nothing makes it past this man.
Well, except for Rhonda’s flirtation’s apparently.
I purse my lips. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
He looks between Rhonda and me, waving his pointer finger between us. “You two just did a little womanly nonverbal communication thing. I saw that.”
Called out and royally busted.
“Maybe you’re seeing things,” I lie, because no — five days with Jocko would not work. No.
“Alright,” he says, after a long pause. “I need to get back to work, too. But I’ve got my eye on you two.” He points at his eyes, and then at me and Rhonda’s cubicles, like Robert De Niro in Meet the Parents.
As soon as he’s gone, a message from Rhonda pops up on the company chat:
Rhonda: Jocko. He’s the perfect date for the destination wedding.
Allie: In what universe?
Rhonda: Well, you want to make Mark jealous, right? Jocko’s hot, he’s sexy, and he’d fit right in with a crew of athletes like the ones that Peyton rolls with since Jocko played Division I basketball in college. His brother Everett even plays professional football, for goodness sake.
Allie: Uh, no, I’m not trying to make Mark jealous. This is the year of better angels of my nature. I’m not stooping to Mark’s level. I’m rising above the wreckage.
Rhonda: Oh, okay. My bad…well, either way, you would be guaranteed a fun time. Plus, I hear he’s quite a devil in bed. If you two decide to, you know…
Allie: Oh my gosh! No! We’re coworkers, on the same team! That is not a good idea. As the boss’s assistant, aren’t you supposed to not encourage interoffice romance? Isn’t that an H.R. nightmare just waiting to happen?
Rhonda: I’m just trying to look out for my girl. You’ve been so unhappy this past winter. (You still haven’t had a rebound, btw. Yes, I’ve noticed.). And seriously, Becky in marketing said that about Jocko, so you know it’s true. She can’t keep her mouth shut. Plus, you’d be in Cancún and you know what they say about what happens in Cancún…
Allie: I’m not looking for a silly rebound. Just because I got burned once doesn’t mean I’m going to drop my standards. And that’s Vegas…what happens in V-E-G-A-S!
Rhonda: Really? I thought it was Cancún, too. And drop your standards? This is Jocko we’re talking about. He’s like the singlest of the single guys who has ever singled. Do you know why? Because he’s a millionaire with options. That’s right. MILLIONS! I see his paychecks since I’m the boss’s assistant. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, he’d be fun to hang with. He’s hot. Plus, he’s an avowed bachelor so you wouldn’t have to worry about him getting needy or weird. You two have always gotten along so well. He’d also be fun to look at on the beach in Cancún…
Allie: Fun to look at?
Rhonda: Oh, come on, don’t pretend like you haven’t stalked his beach volleyball pics. from last year. You expert Facebook stalker you.
Allie: Okay, fine. Even if I did want to bring him, why would he say yes? To be a part of five days of lost productivity surrounded by strangers and little ole me? That man is a machine. I don’t think he’s ever taken a vacation of more than two days in all the time I’ve been working here.
Rhonda: He’d go with ‘little ole you’ because he likes you.
When I read those words, I won’t lie — my heart does the tiniest of tumbles. It’s nothing crazy, but it’s definitely a little something. Even noticing the sensation makes me feel silly, like I’m in sixth grade again and I just found out a cute boy might have a crush on me.
Although I’m flattered, if true, part of me is skeptical that Rhonda is right.