The Official Office Games

I walked into work, carefully trying to conceal the large oil stain that covered my white shirt. I positioned my handbag in a way that didn't make me look like an idiot and wasn't too obvious with what I was doing.

The damn taxi that I had been arriving in had decided to break down on my way to work. Typical, it had to occur on the day that the new assignments were being given out. Looking like someone who'd fallen in a sewer and not noticed definitely wouldn't help me with getting the big campaign.

I pressed the elevator button, dancing on the balls of my feet for it to hurry up.

"Good morning, Ms Conman." I whipped around so fast that I was sure if I hadn't stopped, I would've ended up toppling over.

"Mr Steven," I winced. No doubt he still remembered my humiliating act at firing myself. Even I still had nightmares about it. "Good morning to you, too."

He nodded his head in my direction, the tip of his mouth titling upwards.

"I wonder, Ms Conman, if you know you've got a rather large black stain on your shirt?"

I gasped in horror, realizing that my traitor handbag had let me down.

"Oh my God, this is not happening, not happening at all..." I chanted in my head.

"Don't you know, Mr Stevens, that, uh, having large stains on a shirt is in fashion...?" I wondered where that little slip had come from, but seconds later decided I liked it.

"Really? And do all of these stains smell like diesel?" He smiled, his green eyes twinkling down at me.

I smirked back, his contagious happy mood infectious. "You got me, ok?" I said, giving in. "There was an accident on the way to work and if I'd gone back home and changed I would have been late to the meeting."

He nodded again and looked back at the elevator doors. "So instead, you're gonna try hiding that rather large stain with your rather small handbag?" He asked.

"Yes, until after the meeting is over, and then I'm gonna go home and change," I said quickly, wondering then if I should have gone back to my flat to change. This was humiliating beyond words.

"I...I... I have a sweater in my office that goes quite well with the trouser's you've got on. I...It's not exactly office wear but...it's better than smelling like diesel all day?" he offered.

I watched his face, intrigued by the fact that he seemed nervous. His tongue kept running across his bottom lip, and from where I was standing it was obvious he was trying to figure out my reaction from the corners of his eyes.

"Oh. I... erm..." I looked around the large lobby searching, hoping, for it to give me some kind of answer. "That's great, thank you," I finally managed. I turned my head back towards him, silently wishing that the girls near the reception desk would suddenly get a bad case of acne.

He seemed a bit surprised about my answer but a second later he gave me a small smile and nodded.

xxxxxxxxx

"OH MY GOD!" I stopped in my tracks. Clair's sudden very loud shriek halted the entire lobby, who, for a moment were all frozen in shock.

"Oh no, did somebody just reject her again?" I wondered. The last time that had happened, I'd been half-an-hour late to work with large wet tears spotted all over my suit knowing that I'd never be pretty and instead a workaholic to make up for my lack of a social life.

"Is that..." her eyes were transfixed to my midriff, and I unconsciously tucked my stomach in and pulled the sweater Mr Stevens had given me down a bit lower. "Is that the latest Versace sweater?"
She circled me like a predator, voice strained and sharp, studying the sweater with an uncomfortably keen eye; it reminded me of my first day at work.

"I-I don't know..." I stammered.

"You're wearing something that's worth over $250 and you don't know if it's Versace?" asked an unbelieving Claire.

"Uh...Somebody lent it to me?"

"Lent? Nobody lends sweaters like these...Not unless you're sleeping with that certain somebody?" her voice was accusing and quick.

I gasped in shock, my face turning a tomato-red shade. "Oh my god, the geek is getting some!" Claire immediately yelled out, her laughing mean and mocking. I quickly looked around at the people staring at me and felt my heart stop when it landed on him. He stood next to another man, both of them turned in our direction, conversation halted in mid-sentence.

I felt tears stinging the back of my eyelids when suddenly, before I even knew what was happening, I was being pulled by the arm at a pace which I wasn't comfortable with.

I noticed we were heading for the toilets. I only regained my thoughts when I was pushed inside and nearly tripped over my own feet.

"Hey..." Her voice was awkward and sheepish as it echoed through the empty stalls.

"I'm sorry about the dragging, but Claire was about to make mince meet out of you. I mean... I'm no Cupid or anything, but even I could tell there was something going on between you and a certain old boss. Plus, I couldn't let you go through that, especially when I've been kinda mean to you. But in my defense, it was kinda your own fault. I thought you were after my guy- and no girl is ever gonna be with him. At least, not while I'm still standing. Anyway..." She rubbed the her neck, at a loss for words. "This is my apology. Sorry."

I leaned against the toilet door, letting my heart rate slow. "Er... even though I have no idea what you're REALLY apologizing for...I accept your apology and I want to thank you for saving me back there." Even I knew that if Victoria hadn't dragged me here, I'd be crying my eyes out in the middle of the lobby with Claire laughing at my blotchy, red face.

"So.... we're good?" asked Victoria.

I gave her a small smile and held out my hand.

"We're good."