Lia
What's summer like for you?
Scorching sun, a fresh start, or that sorbet melting in the heat.
Or the wind blowing the frown off your face. The small lines on your forehead, your eyes fluttering as the wind blew, and a faint sigh. You and I locked eyes for the first time — the summer I met you, all over again.
"Honey, that dress suits you well enough."
"You guys should wrap up and head home. Gosh, there's no AC in this room." The team leader spoke, hurrying out with documents and a phone call from his mistress.
He didn't have a second to spare. I wanted to reply, but he stepped out in a hurry.
My eyes wandered back to him. I had never seen him frown. The heat must have gotten to him.
We had been working for a month now. We barely talked — part of the reason is me. No, scratch that. I could be the entire reason. He has no problem talking for hours with others.
Should I speak first? Improve my communication with coworkers?
"Do you want to wrap up for today?" I asked.
He didn't reply.
Maybe I wasn't loud enough. Should I ask again? I'd rather not embarrass myself again. I didn't say a word.
He lifted his head and looked around, his eyes dry and fluttering.
"Did you ask me?"
He asked with his eyes, a little surprised.
I nodded. He looked at me as if something was wrong — or as if he was trying to remember what he just heard. Should I ask again?
"No, let's work on it. The meeting is tomorrow morning, so if there are any changes, it would be easier to work on them later," he said.
His voice was calm — calmer than his usual tone. Is this his morning voice? Husky, low, and soft?
Was it because it was just the two of us in the room? I think his calmer voice suits him more.
He looked at me for a second and continued.
"If the heat is getting in your way, I can come in a little early and work on it. That would be fine too."
He said it after trying to analyse my face, blinking as if he had made the wrong choice. His eyes were keen on my face, his forehead lines growing deeper every second. He doesn't realise, does he? He is looking at me way too much, not the usual glance.
"I'm fine. We can continue," I replied, and his facial muscles relaxed. All of a sudden, holding back a smile.
I turned the page and started reading the content. After a few seconds, he looked away — back to our position. We both kept looking at the document, and slowly he began to feel more at ease. Comfortable enough to not sit straight — leaning on the desk, facing the window, and shuffling the sheets.
He kept his distance by not paying attention to me, but he was also getting closer by dropping his guard.
Minutes later, his eyes were closed. Soft, deep breaths. How tired was he to fall asleep while the sun was hitting his face?
I continued to work, but the sunlight on his face kept bothering me. His face had turned red — somehow, he looked handsome every way.
I got up and pulled the curtain. A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I shouldn't have done that sooner. With less light in the room, he felt closer. The fact that it was just us in the room kept coming back to my mind.
Why is he looking different today? Or should I ask why he is different with only me?
Every second felt like I lived it. It wasn't a fleeting or emotionless feeling. It wasn't like delicious food or your favourite song playing in your head for a while and then not exist until you crave it again.
It was like brush strokes easing onto a canvas — not knowing how things would turn out, being in an entirely different dimension that exists only for you.
Here, in this moment, my eyes were drawn to you for the first time — the messy hair, your red cheeks, your soft voice, and the relaxed feeling.
It immediately took me to a place in my mind hidden deep, where it's just you and me sitting by a lake, water glimmering in the sunlight, petals covering the soft grass. You're asleep, reading a book, while I paint the lake. Dreamy and hazy.
It's just us. Even with the distance, somehow you feel mine.
---
Today I dreamt about it — the first memory I have of you, even though we met a year before that. Funny, I know about you, but I don't seem to remember much about you before that. I'm weird about the fact that I don't know people who worked with me, not even their names.
It's not arrogance; it's just me being tired of everything — too tired to remember who didn't matter. Is that arrogance?
Well, it's a completely different way from the things you do.
After encountering some luck and weird circumstances, I ended up in this big company. It's a lot like my old office. Do all offices look the same? Anyway, one thing is different — I can do what I want, and I need to play my part.
I don't usually stand out, and after a brief introduction, I disappeared into the background. I am a part of the new creative team for the company; they are still recruiting. This office is spacious.
"Hey there! You made it." Harry spoke, leaning in.
"Yes."
"Stop staring — let's get to work," Harry said and stepped back, opening the door to their office space.
"This is Den, and that's Sara." Harry beamed with a smile and pointed at two people sitting near the sofa in front of a circular table.
"Hi!" Den smiled brightly.
"Hey there," Sara smiled warmly. They both looked mid-twenties. They are also newly appointed.
"This is your desk." Harry pointed to the desk near the open window, with the seat next to mine completely empty, and two desks on the opposite side. There was also a small closed-off room — for Harry, I guess. The whole space is spacious, but it's filled with things. Things that are not important — like a foot massager, more than ten plants, a cat? What's going on here? I was too stunned at this point.
"That's Nue, our office cat." Harry picked it up. There was a cat house, cat toys, a lint remover, cat food, and so on.
"No pointed heels allowed in the office, by the way. You have to use loafers inside." Harry looked at my black heels as if they were disgusting and rotten.
"Sure," I nodded.
He kept looking at me, nodding with me.
"I'll go change," I replied and walked to the front.
I'm already at my limit.
I thought something was missing. I was wrong. They even have video games and board games stacked up.
Did I come to the wrong place?
I left my heels and wore a light pink loafer with hearts — just kill me.
"So then, let's assign each of you tasks."
Thus, work began.
We were in charge of anything that required creativity — from marketing to designing furniture. Yes, they could have hired different personnel, but the rift between the owner and the team head resulted in a budget cut for the creative and marketing department.
Between family, they sacrifice employees like pawns. Well, it worked out for me — instead of painting the wall art, I ended up with this job. My previous job did play an important role in it.
Things are moving fast, and I'm feeling overwhelmed.
Starting fresh sometimes makes you hesitant, doesn't it? No Vick, no trashy boyfriend, no family drama, and no jealous friends.
Just me, work, freedom, and money. Well, this is better than being fine.
Days rolled on. Everyone is sweet — you know the kind of feeling you get when you look at a person and instinctively know whether they like you or not. Although this team could do a little less talking and a little more working.
I have been sticking to my schedule: wake up, water the plants, exercise, wash up, have a proper breakfast, go to work, come back, call Mom, eat dinner, and watch my favourite show or read my stacked-up books.
"Everything is going to go well, isn't it?" Harry asked — more like a statement than a question — with a stare.
"Yes?" I replied, not understanding the context.
The other two kept fighting the whole week about who won the match. They tried to get me involved, but I escaped.
"She's going to join our team next week," Harry said.
"Ah, yes." I almost forgot the whole reason I'm here.
"I'm scared." Harry clutched my arm rather tightly, like a kid holding onto their mom.
"Well, it's not like she is married," I replied.
"Yeah. Do you still miss him?" Harry asked. How much did I tell him? I don't know. Yes, I miss him every second. But I have been much more relaxed ever since I joined this company and got my life sorted — it's thanks to Harry, in a way.
"The last time I remembered him was a week ago. Excluding the present, that is." I stopped working. My expressionless face went sad. Do I feel guilty that I don't miss him?
"Well, sorry. Didn't mean to," Harry straightened up.
"No, it's fine. I'm not bothered by it much now. And you still have a chance to set things right," I said.
"Yes. I'm leaving tomorrow. I'll leave the rest to you." Harry hugged me all of a sudden and went out. The other two just stared at what had happened.