I Got the Boy

As I flipped the page of the packet and read the conclusion of the contract, a small smile spread across my lips. I had finally received my first project at the new office, and I was nothing but thrilled about it. It was with a young couple, who had recently purchased their first home together. They were energetic, excited, and completely open-minded to my original designs.

Signing my name on the designated line, I closed the packet and slid it into a yellow envelope, addressed to the new couple’s home. But as I moved to seal the envelope, the speaker on my desk phone suddenly crackled to life.

“Ms. Belrose,” Rosie’s chipper voice floated across the line, “Someone has requested to see you. But they don’t have an appointment.”

I quickly turned to my computer and opened up my daily calendar, checking my availability. Since it was a Sunday and I liked to keep my workload low on weekends, I hadn’t scheduled any appointments for the entire day. “It’s fine,” I responded, pushing my finger on the speaker’s button, “Send them in.”

Since arriving in Chicago and starting at my new office, I had not nearly been as busy as I was previously. Along with switching locations, I had been promoted to a higher ranking. My time was no longer clogged with busy work; there were people working below me, whom I could pass that work onto. I used my newfound availability to pursue new clients, categorize their design desires, and assign them to other workers.

I quickly returned to my envelope and sealed it, looking up when my office door opened. “Hi, I’m Callista Belrose. What can I do for—” I stopped myself, as soon as I recognized the familiar brunette head that poked through the open doorway.

As his eyes focused on me behind my large mahogany desk, he dropped into one of the two chairs before me, a bright smile spreading across his lips. Like the first day I had seen him, he was dressed casually. A plain, white t-shirt stretched across his large shoulders and biceps, barely containing them; and salmon-colored shorts merely covered the top halves of his thighs. “Cal,” his raspy voice caused shivers to snake down my spine, “How are you?”

“What are you doing here, Jonathan?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. It was seemingly the only thing that hadn’t changed about him; he was calm and levelheaded, not creating dramatic reactions or snapping quickly. “I just wanted to see how you were,” he paused, reaching up to scratch his raggedy playoff beard, “I know that Lindsey and I shocked you the other night.”

Now, it was my turn to play it cool. I couldn’t let him know that I was overwhelmed with the idea of him being engaged and getting married in a few months. I made an indifferent noise and sat back in my chair, “I’m just really happy for you, Jonathan. She’s seems great.”

He let out a long breath. “I wasn’t planning on her coming to dinner; she just insisted last minute,” he explained, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly.

I nodded, a tight smile plastered on my lips, “It was fine, Jonathan. It’ll be nice to have another familiar face in the city.” His frown deepened slightly at my fakeness, but he quickly dismissed it and sat up in the chair.

“So,” he started, “That relates to another reason why I’m here.” I nodded, encouraging him to continue with whatever proposal he had. “We won our game last night,” he stated proudly, “So we’re going to the Stanley Cup Finals in a couple of days.”

“I watched the game,” I winced slightly at my sudden confession, but I quickly sent him a proud smile, “Congratulations, Jonathan.”

He thanked me quietly, a slight blush sprouting on his cheeks. “So I was wondering if you would like to come to a team party at my house?” he asked, quickly tacking on a few details, “It’s tonight, but it’ll just be some of the players and their families. Just a way to keep our thoughts off of the game for a few hours.”

I merely shook my head. I had been in Chicago for just over a week; I didn’t want to plunge into Jonathan’s life and meet all of his friends immediately. And I doubted that I ever would. Jonathan and I led completely separate lives for so long; I didn’t want to start intertwining them now. After a few moments, I opened my mouth to give him a subtle rejection, but he quickly cut me off.

“Alright, you don’t have to make an excuse; you don’t have to come,” he took the words off of the tip of my tongue, “But at least, agree to hang out with me tomorrow.” A look of desperation crossed his features. I wasn’t sure what he wanted from me. But I knew that he wanted to talk and I knew that he wanted to see what had changed, what was left of our friendship.

I nodded slowly, thinking about the different things that I was curious about. I wanted to talk to him, too; but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to admit it. Without thinking about it, I sent him a small smile, “Okay.”

A bright smile spread across his lips and he let out a low chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “Great!” his voice was enthusiastic and hopeful, “I’m bringing dinner to your place. Text me your address when you can.”

Without giving me an opportunity to change my mind, Jonathan hopped up from his seat and hurried out of the room, sending me a cheerful wave and reminding me to text him after work. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cal.”

The door closed behind him with a loud thud, but my eyes stayed attached to the frosted glass, watching his blurry figure glide further away from my office.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whispered, "Jon."