An impossible choice

[I kind of just had fun with this one - I'm still getting my writing muscles back into shape, and there are a few tropes I wanted to include. The present tense was just to challenge myself to write a bit differently, I hope it pans out. Enjoy!]

***

Here I stand, holding my tray so tight my knuckles turn white, looking for a free table across the cafeteria. Listen to me - despite being an adult, I work in an office with a freaking cafeteria, like high school. And, like high school, it's full of cliques.

There's the nerds in data analysis, always stuck deep in spreadsheets and numbers. There's the jocks from finance, all sizzle and no steak. There's the mean girls from reception, whose entire job is to be pretty and nice, meaning they're really secretly mean and internally ugly.

And there's me, the loner, the weirdo nobody really pays attention to.

The math club - I mean, the strategy team - is sitting at the longest table, only taking up about half the seats, so I make my way there, hoping to use the smallest possible corner of table to eat my meal in 5 minutes flat, so I can retreat back safely to my office.

My foot catches on something and I stumble to the ground, my tray flying out of my hands and my plate crashing to the ground in a clatter of cutlery. The ambient buzz of conversations dies down as all eyes in the room search for the commotion and settle on me.

"Mazel tov!" someone shouts out, followed by laughter, cheering, and a slow clap from a few people in the room.

I feel my chest flush as I scramble to collect as much of the food and fallen items back onto my tray, when I spot some prick from finance grinning down evilly at me. Not bothering to hide, his foot is still stuck out into the aisle, and his buddies are all busy laughing and high fiving each other.

"Real mature," I mutter as I finish gathering my stuff and stand back up.

I even spot Ryan at the table, offering rounds of high fives. Ryan's such an asshole. He started working here around the same time as me - in fact, our interviews were on the same day. We'd actually kind of hit it off while we waited to be called in the room. Turns out we grew up in the same neighbourhoods, just never at the same time.

If I'm honest, I did have these thoughts - fantasies, really, there's no other word for it - about what might have happened if our paths had crossed earlier. There was just this instant chemistry when we met. I don't believe in love at first sight, or in soulmates, but if I did... damn, Ryan might have been it.

But then he started working in finance and... I don't know, there's just a vibe in that team. They've got all this lingo, FASB and EBIT and CAPEX and whatever, they think they're hot shit and that we'd all collapse if they stopped doing their job. And honestly, we probably would, which is fucking annoying.

In his first week, we still got coffee once or twice, bonding over our shared experience as newbies to the company. By the end of his first month he barely nodded when he saw me in the hallway. And I guess, now, he's as good as tripping me in the cafeteria. So much for soulmates.

I glance down at my tray - there's not much palatable food left at this point, so I stick the apple in my satchel, and go tip the rest into the bin.

I make my way to the bank of lifts, stabbing the button for my floor repeatedly. Then some more.

"Fuck this," I mumble. The office is only 18 floors up, I can walk that.

***

"Could you stop that?" I ask Max. "It's like working in a beaver dam," I grumble.

Max looks over and sighs, putting the pencil he'd been rolling between his teeth down on the desk.

"Well excuse me," he sarcastically rolls his eyes at me. "Why don't you blast some musicals in your totally ineffectual headphones some more? Listen to Wicked much, lately?"

I scoff and throw my hands up in the air. "That's better than having your stupid sports commentary on in the background!" I walk around to the front of my desk and pretend-kick an imaginary ball. "Oh, he kicked a ball... oh someone else kicked it now..."

"Whoop-de-fucking-doo!" I scream at Max, who stands up and slams his hands down on his desk to glare at me.

"You're the worst person to share an office with," he said between gritted teeth, leaning forwards into his rant. "With your annoying music, and the way you move your hips to the beat when you don't think I'm looking, and -"

"Yeah, well you're even worse," I interrupt him, taking a step closer to his desk, "with your stupid little post-it notes all around your computer -" I glance down at one stuck to the top of his monitor, which just says 'pick up mum's gift on 14th', which is actually kind of sweet but that's not the point, "--and, and, and you smell of sandalwood!" I finish.

We stand there panting, glaring at each other. He really does smell nice, now that I think about it - I'm close enough that his scent fills my nose, and I can see his chest puffing out with each breath. Damn, Max is kind of jacked.

"I...", I stammer. "I'm going to get coffee," I say before rushing out of the room. I slam the door behind me and rest my head back against it. I feel... weird. I can't stop thinking about Max's chest, the muscles I could see rippling under his shirt as he tensed up. The way his pupils dilated as he stared me down.

The way my stomach did a weird little flip when I inhaled his scent, the way I wanted to bury my nose in his neck to get more of it - wait, what? What? What the fuck?!

Max infuriates the hell out of me, sharing an office with him has been one of the most frustrating situations in my life, he's so stubborn and annoying and - oh my fucking god, I'm into Max.

I shake my head to clear the visions I've started imagining of his naked chest, of him sweeping off the damn clutter from his desk that he never freaking tidies so he could throw me down on it and - nope, not happening.

"Nope, nope, nope," I mumble as I make my way down to the kitchen.

Half a cup of coffee later, I'm feeling somewhat more settled. I decide to stop by the printer on my way back, to pick up a bunch of documents I'd queued up earlier in the day.

I'm nearly back at my office when I realise I'm missing the cover sheet for my printout. I turn on my heel to head back to the printer, and for the second time today, end up sprawled across the floor.

"Dammit," I exclaim as the remainder of my coffee splashes across my white blouse. I look up and see Ryan standing over me, frozen with his hand out as if he'd tried to... catch me?

"Of course it's you," I say, pushing myself up onto my knees to gather my scattered pages. "Did you need an encore after earlier?"

To my surprise, Ryan kneels down and helps me pick up my stuff. "This one was an accident," he says, "I'm sorry."

I reach for the last piece of paper, but Ryan reaches for it too and his hand covers mine just as I go to grab it. It's warm, with a rough texture - rougher than I'd expect for someone working a cushy office job like finance - and we both freeze in place.

"Um," Ryan clears his throat, breaking the spell, and I glance back at him as he pulls his hand back. He's actually blushing - I didn't think he was capable of enough self-reflection for that. "Yeah, sorry," he repeats. "I was distracted, and I just didn't expect you to turn around so suddenly."

"What were you distracted by?" I ask as I stack all my collected pages together in a semblance of a neat order, and stand back up.

"Um," Ryan says again, his blush somehow intensifying. "Nothing, just lost in thought," he says, running his hand through his hair. I have no idea what's up with him today, he's acting really strange. Where's all his finance bravado gone?

"Are you okay?" I ask. "You seem... off. Did something happen?"

"No, no," he shakes his head. "It's just... it's fine. I'm sorry about your blouse," he segues awkwardly.

I sigh and look down at my sodden top. "Ah, yeah. I've got a meeting with Big Suze in a bit, this won't go down well, but I don't have a spare top, so what are you gonna do?" I shrug.

"I've got a shirt in my office if you want," he offers. "A clean shirt," he clarifies.

I narrow my eyes and look at him suspiciously. Why is he being nice to me? He was laughing over me tripping in the cafeteria for amusement a mere two hours ago.

He holds his hands up and takes a step back. "Hey, no pressure," he says. "Just trying to make it right."

"Well..." I hesitate. "Sure. Alright. Thanks."

He nods and motions me to follow him. His office is on the other side of the floor, and he walks a few steps ahead of me, not saying a word the whole time. I follow him inside and he shuts the door behind us, then goes to his desk to rummage through the drawers.

"Wow, fancy," I say, looking around. "You get your own office. I have to share with Max."

"Ah, Max is a good dude," Ryan says, kneeling to get a better look through the lower drawer. "He and I go way back."

"Really? I had no idea."

"Yeah," Ryan continues, shifting to the drawers on the other side of his desk, "we met in university, actually - roommates at first, then we shared a flat. We did the whole 'poor student ramen noodle diet' thing together. Ah-ha!", he exclaims, brandishing a new shirt, still in its plastic wrapper.

He steps up to me, holding the shirt out. "Please, take it. I feel bad for ruining your top," he says, glancing down at the coffee stain spread across my chest, his eyes lingering just an extra second or two than strictly necessary.

"Thanks," I grab the shirt. I glance at the wall clock above his desk and start. "Shit, is that the time?! My meeting with Suze is in 5 minutes, I'll never have time to run down to the 17^th to change, and back up in that time."

Ryan frowns at me. "Why would you need to run down to the 17^th floor?"

"Female toilet's out of order on this one," I explain. "Thanks anyway," I hand the shirt back to him.

"Just change here, idiot." He freezes, his eyes wide. "Sorry, not idiot, force of habit, but... yeah, just change here, the door's closed." I look at him suspiciously. This feels like a set up. Like he's going to throw a bucket of pig's blood on me or something.

"I'll turn around," he sighs, and obliges.

I carefully set my papers down on the floor next to me, and pull my blouse off. I use a vaguely clean part of it to dab at my chest and bra, trying to dry up as much of the coffee as I can. I rip the plastic open and slip on Ryan's shirt.

As suspected, it's way too big on me - the sleeves I can deal with by rolling them up, but I don't know what to do about how wide the shirt hangs around my mid-section. If I try to tuck it into my skirt, it bunches up and makes it look like I'm smuggling a bunch of potatoes in my waistband.

I opt for tying the shirt in a knot at the front, trying to turn this Britney Spears look into a semi-professional outfit. I leave the top button undone, but this shirt wasn't designed with boobs in mind and the ladies are slightly more on display than I'd like - but it'll do.

I look up, ready to tell Ryan I'm done, when I spot my reflection in the window looking out onto the city skyline. And, more importantly, I spot Ryan's reflection. His eyes dart away immediately, which can only mean he had been looking.

I clear my throat, suddenly desperate to be out of this office. "Um, yeah, so I'm done, thanks. I've got to run," I stammer, very grateful for my meeting with Big Suze. I pick up my sheets of papers - several of which fall out, causing me to scramble to pick them back up, and all but run back to my office.

I mean, I undertake a very dignified power walk as any self-respecting modern professional woman would.

I stop by my office just long enough to throw my ruined blouse under my desk and grab the file I need for my meeting, ignoring Max's questioning look, and hustle down to Suze's office.

***

"Well, that was a meeting and a half," I sigh as I slump down into my desk chair, throwing down the file from my meeting with Suze - now laden with additional notes and to-do lists.

Max glances over at me but doesn't reply. I check out my email - a bunch of stuff came through while I was out... too much to deal with now. "Ugh. I'm going home. It's not like I'd get much done in these last fifteen minutes."

Max still ignores me, his eyes locked on his monitor. Well, I guess I did yell at him. It's probably better this way anyway, can't risk getting entangled with him, after how I felt earlier today.

I pack up my satchel, stuffing my blouse inside even though it's probably not salvageable, and grab my jacket. "Bye then," I say, but Max ignores my last attempt at reconciliation. Fine, be that way. I huff as I close the door behind me.

I head down to the ladies' bathroom, wondering when the office manager will get the ones on our floor fixed. A bunch of receptionists are already in there, their conversation dying down as I push the door open. I close the door to a stall and hear them giggle excitedly. Whatever. They're gone by the time I come out, so at least I can wash my hands in peace.

I'm grateful for my decision to leave a little early, as the lift comes almost instantly this time. Unfortunately, it's not empty, and I hesitate as I see Max is the only occupant. "Uh..." I say, cleverly.

"Come on," he sighs, "get in."

"Thanks," I smile, and the doors close behind me. "Have I said something?" I ask, unable to restrain myself. "I mean, other than taking the piss out of sports, and your post-its, and generally being a bit of an ass to you earlier..."

Max crosses his arms and leans against the side of the lift. "It's not that," he grumbles.

"Oh, so it is something?" I ask, setting my hands on my hips as I turn to him.

He rolls his eyes. "I just thought you were better than that."

"Better than what?" I ask, genuinely confused.

He scoffs and gestures to me vaguely. I raise an eyebrow, still confused. "Your shirt! Getting off with Ryan in his office!"

My eyes widen in shock. A beat passes. Then another.

"What?!" I exclaim. "I didn't... get off with Ryan! Not in his office, not anywhere! He spilled coffee on my top and I didn't have a spare, he lent me this one."

Max looks at me, unconvinced. "So... the rumours aren't true?"

"They rarely are," I shrug, finally comprehending the source of the receptionists' hilarity in the bathroom. "I guess I could have seen that one coming though," I rub my forehead. This is going to be a headache to address with HR.

"Well, I'm glad, then," Max says.

The lift lurches to a stop roughly and I stumble, falling forwards into Max who catches me reflexively. His scent fills my nose once again, intoxicating, and my hands on his chest confirm what I thought earlier about his physique.

"Glad... about what?" I ask, trying to nonchalantly continue the conversation, hoping my voice will cover the sound of my heart beating the samba in my chest.

The lift shudders again, and we lose our precarious balance, falling to the floor. Max holds out his arms to catch himself and avoids crushing me, leaving him suspended above me, his nose about an inch from mine.

He's breathing hard - but hey, so am I, it's a tense situation and it doesn't mean anything. It certainly doesn't mean being this close to him is stirring things up inside me. "I'm glad..." he murmurs, "you didn't kiss Ryan."

My eyes widen as Max leans forwards, closing the gap between our faces to plant his lips on mine. They're soft, and warm, and I close my eyes to kiss him back, one hand finding its way to the back of his neck, the other resting lightly on his ribs.

He growls and kisses me harder, his hips lowering into mine, and I can feel how hard he is already.

The lift intercom crackles to life and we both gasp, disentangling in a flash.

"Hello - is anyone in the lift?" the disembodied voice comes through.

I rush to the control panel and hold the call button down to respond. "Um, yes, hi, there's two of us here."

More crackling, and I barely make out the reply coming through. "Alright, you're stuck between two floors. Engineers and fire department are on the way. Hold tight."

The intercom stills back into silence, leaving me alone once again with Max. We stare at each other in silence. Suddenly, a thought strikes me.

"So, you really thought I'd just hooked up with Ryan? You just believed the rumours? You could have asked me," I accuse him. "We've worked in the same office for over a year!"

He scoffs and steps up to me. "What was I supposed to believe? You come back, wearing his shirt, then run out without a word--"

"I had a meeting," I interrupted, but he continues anyway.

"--and of course it made sense, look at you!" he finishes.

"Look at me?" I ask, more confused than angry, now.

"Yeah," he trails off. "Don't pretend you don't know you're gorgeous," he shrugs.

I blush. I mean... I've been told I'm cute before, but never gorgeous. I'm not the hot girl, I'm the cute nerdy girl-next-door, not the main event.

"I've wanted to kiss you for months," Max continues, stepping closer to me and reaching out to grab my hand. "I've wanted to lock the door and ignore our emails, I've wanted to... fuck, I've wanted you," he murmurs, his hand trailing up my arm, to my shoulder, then lightly brushing my neck.

My eyes focus on his lips, it's all I can think about right now. "I still think," I whisper as I lean forwards, "you're incredibly frustrating."

"Oh, me too," he chuckles as he meets my lips.

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him as he grabs my waist and lifts me up, my legs locking around his hips. He pushes me up against the wall, his hands digging into my ass, our tongues probing at each other wildly.

I grind my hips into him, and my fingers dig into his hair to pull his head back so I can kiss his neck.

He groans and holds me tight, flipping me over to lie me on the ground. He kneels above me, towers above me, and pulls off his jacket. "I hate seeing you in his shirt," he looks down at me, then quickly rips Ryan's shirt open, buttons flying everywhere.

I gasp as he bends down and kisses me again, softly, trailing kisses from my lips to my neck, then my chest, pulling down the top of my bra to reveal a nipple and give it a gentle flick of the tongue.

I arch my back reflexively and he smiles, sneaking a hand behind my back to unclasp my bra, letting him lift it off further. He takes one breast fully in his hand, squeezing it and massaging it gently as his mouth covers the other, giving my nipple a playful bite followed by a soothing kiss.

I can't believe this is happening, but if it's happening, I want to see this chest of his - I reach up and fumble with his shirt, managing to get just one button undone and fiddling with the second. "God, even your shirts are annoying," I tell him.

He smirks and pulls the shirt off over his head, dropping it to the side. I run my hands over his chest, smiling as my fingers leave a trail of goosebumps on his skin.

He responds as I push lightly on his chest, and lets me get on top, straddling him as he lies on the ground. The look in his eyes is wild, giving me strength, giving me power, and I remove the rest of my bra and the ripped shirt.

I feel his cock straining against his trousers, and I grind my pussy over it. Max's hands grasp my hips and pull me down further on top of him, encouraging me. My hands find the waistband of his trousers and this time I don't fumble. Within seconds I've freed his cock and he gasps as my fingers wrap around it.

"Fuck me, you're hot," I whisper, bending over to kiss him again, my hand stroking his cock gently, feeling it twitch in my hand.

"Okay," he growls, grabbing me and flipping me again as I yelp. He snakes his hand down between us to find my panties and pull them to the side.