Meeting
Since running away from home, Oakley had the feeling that something bad was about to happen every once in a while. Most of the time, the feeling turned into a little cloud that didn’t interfere with his life, but was inconvenient. But occasionally a storm hit him, nothing life-threatening, just life-changing. However, it had been a little over two years since anything bad happened, and recently his guts had been warning him to prepare for a thunderstorm.
Unfortunately, his guts had never been wrong before.
The clock struck five thirty in the afternoon, and Oakley stretched, glad most of the team had left, but happier that he was about to enjoy his weekend lazing at home bingeing on a book or a new series.
“Oh, come on, please,” pleaded Freya. “When was the last time we hung out? It’s dreadful without you there.” Freya was his best, and only, friend for the past two years. Her straight black hair with two sections of purple fell over her shoulders as she shook him.
What started as a plan for a simple team dinner snowballed into a dinner party for the entire department, with a couple of other departments joining in. “I really don’t want to hear Patrick’s voice any longer,” Oakley said, turning off his desktop.
“Then we go somewhere else. Just the two of us.” She pulled on his shirt, looking at him with her big puppy eyes while Oakley sang the continuation of the lyrics in his head.
“You already agreed when the Floor Manager asked you. It will do us no good if we both skip now,” Oakley said with a teasing smile.
“Why did you let me talk to her alone?” Freya’s entire body cringed, remembering the conversation. “You know I can’t resist her dimples.” She pushed the elevator button multiple times, her lips to the side.
Oakley smiled, and when more people entered the elevator with them, he murmured next to her ear, “Be on your best behaviour. You still have two months to go on your promise.” He waved her goodbye, laughing when she threatened to punch him.
In his previous life, Oakley was the party guy, going out every weekend, getting home late, getting into stupid fights, getting low on the dance floor and passing out on the streets. Until a stupid, blurred picture made its way back to his family, and the next day his twin sister showed up ready to drag him back. A day later, Oakley had moved to this city and left his party self behind.
That previous life ended a little over two years ago.
Even as the days passed, there were still no signs of his family. His sister was the type to knock the door down first and ask questions later. If she found out his whereabouts, she would be there the next second.
“You seem off. What’s wrong?” asked Freya, handing him a cup of coffee after the weekend.
“I need coffee, money and sleep,” he said, sipping on the iced brew she handed him. “Thanks, by the way. I just need this directly into my veins.”
“There’s a nurse in the workshop–”
He put his hand up, knowing where she was going with that, and he didn’t want to get her started on it.
“No nurse. No workshop. I’ll survive like any semi-functional adult: delusion, prayers and coffee,” Oakley said, slurping his drink. Hooking up and flirting was part of his previous life. In his new life, he decided to be different. It helped that he was bad at flirting, and he stopped drinking. Except beer. He didn't consider beer alcohol.
The days merged with the end of the month coming up and the due dates hanging over their necks. To the point where everyone looked and acted like a zombie. But that afternoon, while Oakley and Freya drank their fourth cup of coffee, the atmosphere changed slightly. A spark of talk and curiosity woke some zombies, and soon almost everyone was tuned to the Floor Manager’s voice coming from the corridor. Rebecca stepped into the open space with a tight smile, and the zombies actually began talking about more than the projects when the figure that was accompanying her stepped to her side. The reception of the uniformed man was varied: some feared his presence, and others appreciated it.
“Are you seeing that, or am I hallucinating?” Freya gasped next to him and pinched his arm. The pain from it helped him regain his slipping composure watching the man survey the expanse of the floor with a detached look.
“What is it with humans and uniforms?” he asked, eyes on the fireman. He was asking that for himself, because he shouldn’t be reacting the way he was just because a tall fireman with lean muscles and tanned skin walked into the room. So he blamed it on how well the uniform fitted the man’s broad shoulders and strong thighs.
“I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t mind it if he took it off either.”
Oakley peeled his eyes away, looking at his screen, trying to make sense of the notes he had for one of the designs he made. He cleared his throat as if that would help him focus, but he was too aware of that presence, and Freya’s pestering wasn’t helping.
“Why do you think he is here?” she asked, hooking her arm through his, ripping his attention from the screen again.
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with us,” he said, but just as he took another look at the fireman, their eyes met. Oakley made a strange noise with his throat, fingers clasping the mouse, and turned to Freya.
“Bless me, Father, and let me be rescued by that,” Freya snickered.
He snorted and leaned over his desk to cover it while hiding his face behind his hands. “You can’t say that. HR will be on your ass if they hear you. And it’s rude–”
“Why go through HR? He is already here, he can be on my–”
Oakley slammed his hand over her mouth and, while losing a battle to keep his face serious, said, “Don’t.”
Freya licked his hand, and he pulled away, grossed out by it but still grinning. Her smile was growing when she nudged Oakley again once he tried, and failed miserably, to focus on whatever he had on his screen. “Should we grab another coffee?”
Yes. Oakley wanted to grab another coffee. He didn’t want to drink said coffee; he was sure all this excitement would be enough for the last two hours until he left, but he wanted what Freya was implying. To walk past the Floor Manager and the fireman for two solo purposes: seeing the man up close and maybe get some intel as to why he was there. Freya would probably go further and bump into him, show him her doe eyes and flirt if the chance came.
Before Oakley’s questionable judgment could agree, they saw Rebecca look at their section. Oakley’s eyes jumped to the screen. This time, however, a shiver ran through his spine, and the feeling that he was in trouble took the smile off his face. The duo made their way towards their corner in silence, and Oakley lowered himself into his chair even though his eyes kept trying to look at the man. Rebecca asked for the team’s attention for a moment, but the fireman’s eyes were pinned on Oakley. He could feel it. And he felt Freya clench her hand harder around his arm as she whispered his suspicion. “Why is he staring?” Oakley returned the stare, and despite his gut telling him it was a bad idea and that he should be leaving, he couldn’t help but stare at those dark eyes.
“Smile,” Freya murmured all too loudly, but Oakley didn’t fully register her words. If anything, he felt his jaw clench at those words. The alarms in his head were blaring now. Run. Leave.
Oakley looked at the corridor, the only way out on the fourteenth floor, then he looked at Rebecca, who was just finishing saying something. He wouldn’t even stop at home; he would get on a train and go somewhere. His eyes found Freya for a moment. She was the first friend he had since he ran away from his family, not a party friend and not a coworker friend either. A real friend.
The fireman stepped closer to him. “Tyler Moore,” he said. Oakley wanted to shake his head and deny it, but for everyone there, that was his actual name, so he gave a small nod. “We need to talk. Just the two of us.”
The stupid lyrics played again in his head, but this time they were more sensual than the actual song. Oakley stood up, locked his knees and spared a look at Rebecca. “I’ll use meeting room two.” He didn’t wait for confirmation and simply stepped away from his desk and led the way.
For the first time, Oakley wasn’t sure what his guts were telling him, so he listened to his head: the one that showed him hot scenarios in meeting room two, featuring him and the man trailing after him.
