Constellation sneak peek #2
Hey. - G
Hi.
Can I call you?
You can, I just don’t know if you should.
Why shouldn’t I?
I’ve missed you.
When you don’t respond, he predictably tries to call you next.
Equally predictable, you pick up on the second ring.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says in lieu of greeting.
“We’re friends. I call my friends all the time to check in on them.”
You hum in acknowledgment.
He’s not wrong. Of course he isn’t. And he probably truly doesn’t mean anything else by it. But the thing is… You do. As much as you try and pretend that’s not the case, you know that your heart skips a beat when he says he misses you. When he takes time out of his day to talk to you.
But there’s the lingering voice of Rachel in your head, telling you that she has finally found the right kind of man to get serious with. That she’d worship the ground he walks on. That she believes George belongs with her.
And you can tell it’s different this time. It’s not a silly crush to her. He’s a real person, not just a fantasy. A real person that she likes. He’s not yours to like. So you fold all your feelings back into a paper crane and let them take flight.
“Maybe. Do you have us all on rotation, then?” You end up joking in return.
“Oh yeah. I’ve got a spreadsheet and everything.”
It’s hard not to fall into easy banter with him, and you figure noone needs to know how fond your smile is and who caused it.
There isn’t anyone around to witness it anyways, you consider as your eyes scan the empty office that surrounds you. It is a Saturday afternoon, after all. Hell, you shouldn’t be in the office either. But it’s your sanctuary, the one place you can gather your thoughts or escape from them – whatever mood strikes.
Taking a call from perhaps the reason you’re here in the first place is probably a sign for you to leave. Then again, this place has been tainted ever since that visit a while ago. What is one more call going to do?
“Does it include question prompts? Like a little checklist to see how we are all doing, who might be in need of a follow-up soon?”
He tsks over the phone. “You know I don’t do anything half-heartedly.”
That hits a little closer than you’d like.
“No,” you hum. “I suppose you don’t.”
Wanting to keep the silence from wrapping around the conversation and suffocating it before it’s even truly begun, you ask about your prompt. “What made you want to check in on me?”
George grins through the phone. “I always want to check in on you. But I do have an ulterior motive this time.”
You have to clear your throat, pretend that his casual words don’t affect you. “Oh?”
“I want to buy a yacht,” he announces.
“You want to buy a yacht.”
Slowly repeating the words back to him doesn’t make them make more sense, unfortunately.
When you tell George as much, asking what that has to do with you, it’s clear you’ve played perfectly into his hands.
“I’m so very glad you asked. You see, I want to buy a yacht that is the least harmful to marine life. But it needs to be a boat I can take for diving trips. You know, to see said marine life. Or go free diving. In any case, I thought, I need an expert. I need you.”
The words settle into your skin, like a dangerous lick of fire giving off its first warning. Not to touch, not to get close, not to stare at the blue core for too long, lest you might lose yourself in it.
But just like a moth to a flame, you can’t help it. Can’t keep yourself from reaching out, touching, staring at blue eyes until they swallow you whole, knowing full well you will be the one who ends up getting burned.
Your mouse hovers over the x button of your browser for less than a millisecond.
“Alright. Tell me when and where, I guess. Let’s make an ethical millionaire out of you.”
