Cecily and Vince Ch. 01

Hopefully a good beginning to a little multi-part story. Let me know what you think!

*

I'm in my own world at my desk, humming "Part of Your World" from the Little Mermaid under my breath and swinging back and forth in my rolly chair while I look over the office schedule for the week.

I'm lucky to have landed a coveted secretarial office position for the company I set my sights on, as tedious as the job can be sometimes. I took my Bachelor's and ran for the hills after graduation, landing in South Jersey. Admittedly not leagues away from my hometown of North Carolina, but far enough.

"Having fun?" croons the bane of my existence from over the high countertop separating me and the rest of the world. He's flashing his megawatt smile and his hair is falling in a graceful curtain over his forehead. I was having fun.

"How you doing, Vince?" I chance a look at him from the spreadsheet on my screen and immediately deduce from the sparkling lighting up his pretty dark eyes that he's on level 100 today. I want no part in it.

"I was great but now I'm walking on sunshine," he says. "You light up my Mondays, you know."

"Is that right?" I scribble out a conference I forgot to mark as cancelled on my notepad.

"Even if it wasn't, it'd still be true for the other four days of the week."

"You're annoying me, Vince."

He tosses his sandy blond hair off of his face like a scene kid and drapes his arms across my desk. "You're welcome."

I stare into my computer screen, hopefully exhibiting cool workplace hostility. I'm actually not bothered by him at all. I want to be even a little annoyed, but the good Lord gave this man an immeasurable amount of charm. And ass.

"Cecily just smack him one good time. I won't tell," my coworker Paula says, swinging by on her way to lunch. She's got her purse in one hand and her cane in the other, her scarred leg probably stiff from sitting all morning but still unstoppable on her way to the deli on the corner.

"Paula, can't you see we're in love?" Vince calls out to her as the elevator doors slide closed. Her harsh laugh is cut off as she's whisked off to the ground floor. Vince turns back to me, proclaiming, "So even though we're obviously soulmates, I guess I should go back to my desk and wait for you to recognize and return my love."

"Best idea you've had all day," I tell him, grabbing my pen to scribble down the names of the documents I'd need to prepare for the last conference of the day. I can't help but chance another look at him, corners of my mouth turning up helplessly when I see his version of a kicked-dog expression. I dart my eyes back to my screen when I see him starting to grin in return.

He stares at the top of my head for a moment before finally clucking his tongue and making his way back to his desk. I shift only my eyes to watch his thighs flex against the fabric of his slacks. Damned if that white man isn't fine.

I spend the rest of the day filing and shuffling documents at the front desk, hoping to get home in time to learn a few more measures of Kiss the Rain on my keyboard. I don't want to annoy my neighbors with my self-taught plunking after dark.

After I clock out, I'm nearly racing down the hallway to the staircase, unwilling to give my boss the chance to call me back for "one more thing". I make it, and I'm assaulted by the ever-present odor of paint as I start down the stairs. I breathe it in; that smell, the cheap yellow paint being heated by the afternoon sun, always means I'll be home soon.

"Done for the day?" a voice calls from the top of the first flight, right as I reach the bottom of the second. I look up into Vince's face leaning over the balcony, phone dangling loosely in his right hand. Has he been there the whole time?

"Yeah, I'm out. I'll see you tomorrow." I turn my casual stepping into a brisk walk down the stairs, braids bopping against my shoulders, but he starts bounding down after me.

"Wait, Cecily, just a minute." He stands, unknowingly statuesque, at the top of the flight I'm on, hands shoved into his pockets and drawing the fabric even tighter against his legs. I hover over the last flight of stairs and let him come down to me, step by step.

"What's up?" I ask amicably enough, even though his face is set in the most determined expression I've ever seen him wear. He doesn't stop until he's less than an arm's length away from me, and I can almost feel the charged energy pouring off of him.

"Go out with me." That caught me off guard. Wayyyyy off guard. I was expecting a smile to split his face, with a flashy suggestion to "hang out sometime".

I can't stop the surprise from reaching my face, my eyebrows shooting up, but his expression never changes. I've never seen him unsmiling for so long.

"...Nooo?" What's supposed to be refusal comes out a long question, and I think hard about racing down the last flight of stairs to freedom.

He nods, almost to himself. "Why not?"

Because I said no? "Because I don't want to go out with you, Vince," I say.

"Cecily, we both know that's not true."

I furrow my brow. "Do we?" I don't, in fact, want to go out with him. I just want to look at him when he walks by the front desk.

"I like you." His eyes are searing into mine with the fire of a thousand goddamn suns, and I place a hand on the rail behind me. I'm not uncomfortable around Vince, which is great, because he's a good guy. But right now I wish I had a reason to hate him. Then maybe I wouldn't feel like I was about to fall into him.

"Well... thank-"

"You like me."

Yes. "No. And don't interrupt me." He takes a few steps back to lean against the railing across from me, arms folded, and I can breathe a little better. "Thank you for telling me, but I'm afraid my feelings for you are mostly platonic."

"Mostly?"

"A small percentage of the time I want to kick you down the elevator shaft."

He nods again. Looks down and looks back up, a challenge on his face. "Even though I can feel your eyes on my ass halfway across the office?"

Now, Cecily, I think to myself during these few milliseconds, how would an uninterested secretary respond?

"If believing that helps you sleep at night, then go ahead and imagine my eyes trained on your sorry ass from seven blocks away. But don't confuse fantasy with reality, Vince. I don't want you." There we go.

His smile splits his face, and a low chuckle comes from his chest. "No... it's not just my imagination," he says, eyes searching the contents of my face for a single lying twitch.

The fuck? I roll my eyes and turn to go, unwilling to argue with a brick wall. "It's not my problem if you didn't like my answer. I'm sure you'll get over it." I'm sure I'll get over it too.

I hear him sigh after me as I reach the exit door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

. . .

Wednesday. Vince is sitting next to me at the front desk, installing new software on my desktop, taking up space in my little cubby and in general, unknowingly riling me up. Or maybe he does know. The buttons on his shirt are working their hardest to keep the man clothed.

His leg keeps brushing mine every so often, and though I'm somewhat glad for the company in my lonely little space, I don't really want it to be the man I rejected the day before.

He doesn't seem to be fazed, though, and greets clients politely while he works next to me. He sure moved on fast.

"Why does your voice sound like that when you talk to people?" he asks me, 20% of the way into the progress bar on another download.

"Like what?"

"All sugary and high. Like a baby." He shifts in his chair and our legs stay pressed together this time.

I furrow my eyebrows. "My customer service voice?"

"If that's what you wanna call it," he gruffs.

I look over at him and make a decision. "You know what? I really appreciate you helping me to fix up my computer, Vincent," I say in my highest, most placating ex-barista voice.

He frowns over at me. "Stop that."

"I'm not sure I quite understand, is there anything I can do to help?" I cock my head to the right, concern and good intent plastered all over my face.

"Cecily I'll download a virus," he warns.

"Understood," I concede, chuckling at a normal octave.

Our occasional exchanges take some of the tension away, but I'm still virtually plastered against his side, his rock hard thigh rubbing against mine. I wonder if he likes thick thighs.

I wish I could spin in my chair. "I can just go to lunch 'til you finish, Vince, we don't have to reenact any clown-car scenarios."

"I like having you where I can see you," he mutters. "Unable to stare at my ass."

I glare at the side of his head, then huff and lean away from him, up against my filing cabinet.

"Cis, really, just give him one good bop upside the head, mama. Everybody does it eventually." Paula swings by again, this time with Luz from the department over.

"Yeah, I smack him my first month here, he tried to take half my post-its," Luz cackles. I kinda want to go with them, but then they'd grill me about practically sitting in Vince's lap. I wave and smile while their faces disappear behind the elevator doors.

Vince shifts next to me again, ejecting his flashdrive from the computer, and this time something in my stomach responds to the slow friction of his leg against mine.

"Okay lemme show you how to use the new program," he says softly. Softly? Vince? I look over at him, but I can't see his face past all those damned luscious blond waves.

I sit up and try to pay attention as he runs through the new features that are supposed to streamline what I do.

"I don't understand, what am I doing projecting a second window if I have a dual-screen?"

He points to the blinking console to the right of me. "The second window prevents the motor from getting hotter than the fourth level of hell," he explains. "So you don't keep burning yourself reaching over it."

I nod. "I would like to burn myself less," I agree. "But who's been staring now?"

Vince suddenly swings his head towards me, eyes trained on me like a hungry hawk, and I'm caught in his stare. I can't run anywhere, pinned between him and the wall.

"Oh, I'm always staring," he tells me conspiratorially. "That's how I know you do."

I'm burning, at a low simmer for now but I could honestly start sweating at any moment. "If you're done, you can leave, please and thank you," I inform him, and he doesn't blind me with his megawatt smile this time but grins crookedly. Dangerously. I probably look like a cornered cat.

"I'll be at my desk if you need me, Cecily."

And at his desk is where he'll stay. I keep my eyes steady on my computer and resist the urge to watch him walk away.

. . .

Each time I try to get through this stupid song I blank at the 15th measure. I think of Yiruma and how easily his fingers glide over the keys, and I rub my hands over my face wearily. "I can't compare myself to anyone else," I recite to my empty apartment. "Only to myself, and to the last time I did what I'm doing now."

I wonder if Vince plays piano. His hands don't look graceful, but his fingers are long. I could imagine them plinking at keys. Or wrapped around my own fingers, very easily.

What the hell? I turn my keyboard off and launch myself out of my kitchen chair. It's not the first time thoughts of him have invaded my home, but the first time since he expressed interest in me. That's unacceptable.

And still there's no reason for me to be completely against it. I've never dated a white guy before, but it's not like it's impossible. If he does actually like me, and I actually like him, we could have a nice little workplace romance.

But isn't that eating where I'm shitting? That's what Momma would say. I call her.

"Hey, Cece, how you doing?"

Her voice shoots through my heart, and I drag my kitchen chair back into the kitchen to sit down at the table. "I'm good, Ma, settling down at the office. Made some friends."

"Oh, good job, girlie. Did you get the sink fixed?"

I glance over at it. It's dripping less. "Mostly," I decide. "What you up to?"

I hear her lean back in the recliner my father bought for their anniversary. "Oh, I got off work early, so I brought your dad lunch and now I'm just watching a movie."

I can imagine her now, little, brown, round and swallowed up by all the pillows she bought to fill that chair. "I'm glad to hear y'all doing good by yourselves in that house, Ma," I tell her. It was always the three of us in the little blue country house, and I wondered how things would go once I left.

We talk for a long while about mundane things until she gets around to the same old song, just with different lyrics.

"What's them boys like up there, Cece?"

I can only think of a particular boy. "Loud," I say.

She giggles into the phone and I smile at the sound, even though I know what's coming.

"You know, daughter, you're gonna find someone up there."

She's been saying the same thing since I started packing. "We'll see, Ma, right now I'm focusing on living single."

"You can focus on whatever you want," she says matter-of-factly, probably flipping through Netflix titles. "When it finds you, it finds you."

"I figure, Ma. I'm not gonna look for it though."

She's quiet for a moment. "Alright, Cece. Just remember what I said. Your aunt's dreaming about fish again. Somebody's gonna get pregnant this year."

I hold my tongue. "I will, Momma."

After we hang up, I carry my chair back over to my keyboard and make it past the 15th measure seamlessly.

. . .

"Were you smelling him the whole time?"

"You feel up on him just a little bit?"

"I bet she did, she just not telling."

I should have stayed at the office for lunch. Paula and Luz invited me out with them and I naively accepted, only to be pounced on as soon as the elevator doors closed behind us, my stand-in Rudy waving serenely at us from the front desk.

"He likes you, mami," Luz tells me deviously, pressing her hand over mine. I open my mouth to refute it, but then I remember he told me himself. I shut my mouth.

"It's so cute, Cis! You should let him take you out. He's probably gonna ask you soon, he doesn't stay still for nothing." Paula peers closer at me, and I do my best to unassumingly chew on my straw. "He already has," she accuses.

Luz emits a little high-pitched shriek. "And you don't tell us, Cece? You're so mean!"

I take my straw out of my mouth and put it back in my iced coffee. "Y'all, I haven't even said anything! There's literally nothing happening."

Paula sucks her teeth, reminding me of my mother even though she's only two years older than me. "Yeah, but if we weren't there last week he would've dragged you under the table and made something happen, Cis." My heart flutters a little at the image.

"Okay. But aren't office relationships a bad idea? 'Don't eat where you shit,' or whatever."

Luz chimes in. "I meet Lucy when I first got here, nobody care when we started dating," she emphasizes, pointing the last bite of her garden sub at me. "Now look, we're married, we're happy. No es un problema."

"Es un problema si quiero estrangularlo," I sulk, and they both laugh before quickly falling silent.

I look up at them, but Paula suddenly says, "We're gonna head out first, baby girl, I forgot I have something I need Luz to look at."

They aren't even in the same department though? "Uh, I'll just come with you guys," I say, starting to get up to wrap up the rest of my lunch.

Luz shoves me back down into my chair, giving me a once-over before flipping my braids over my right shoulder as she walks past. "Sit," she orders.

"Ladies," a voice says behind me, and Luz and Paula giggle as they escape. I whip my head around, and there he is, in all his infuriating glory. He turns his gaze to me. "Cecily," he says, marching around to slide into Paula's recently vacated seat.

"Vincent. I don't remember inviting you to join me," I say, neatly folding the wrapper around the other half of my panini.

He steals it out from under my fingers and sets it before him. "Mushrooms? Gross," he proclaims, taking a bite.

I set my head in my hand, idly sipping from my coffee. "I wish there was an empty elevator shaft around here," I say, dreamily.

He snorts, chewing and grimacing, and continues devouring the rest of my lunch, sitting back in his seat when he's done.

"I seem to have eaten the rest of your meal," he teases dryly, tapping his fingers over the empty package.

"...Yeah. I should probably take Paula's advice and clock you now," I muse. He grins at me, and I look past him towards the line of people at the register. I should head back soon, I tell myself.

"Or I could pay you back with dinner," he suggests. I feel my eyebrows crease before I look back at him.

He's got the same hopeful face on as last week, and now all I want to do is reach over and grab his hand to reassure him. I loudly slurp the dregs of my watered-down drink instead.

Why not. "Where are we going?"

His crooked grin makes an appearance, and I rub my hand over my face to prevent my own.

. . .

Friday night, 8pm, and we're meeting at T.G.I. Fridays. At least I get to dress down. But I'm not petty enough to show up in sweats. I even put on lip gloss. And shoes that aren't sneakers.

He's waiting outside for me, leaned up next to a tree the same height as him, the lamp overhead reflecting off of his golden head of hair. He smiles when he spots me walking up to him.

"Ciao, bella," he says, in a decent Italian accent.

"Wassup, Vince?" I've got to smile back at him this time, and I watch his eyes run up and down my body before returning to my face."You done?"

"Never, but I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

I'm having fun. I knew I would, and I'm glad I came. As we talk about our college days, and how we both are considering going back for our Masters, he slides his hand to mine and cradles it.

"You know we're going out again, right?"

I was right- his fingers look very nice tangled up with mine. "Why do you phrase your requests as demands, Vince?" I ask, eyes on his thumb lazily stroking my palm. His index finger is teasing the soft skin over my pulse. I'm captivated.

"You'd say no if I asked," he says, softly. Softly? Again? I look up at him and his expression is something I can only describe as predatory. His eyes are shadowed and dark under the cast of the lights above us, and his face is a rigid, strained mask.

My response is immediate, warmth blooming in my stomach and setting my heart to a rocking pace. Is this what Luz and Paula saw when they walked past us the other day? He looks like he wants to drag me off somewhere.

"So, instead I'm telling you. We're going out again. Preferably next Saturday." He finishes by lacing his fingers completely through mine, grabbing his fork and eating with his unoccupied hand like he didn't just upend my entire being with a look and a word.

"Fine," I say. I leave my hand in his, because I'm a little dizzy from the heat he sparked in me and I don't need him to look at me like that again.

The rest of dinner goes without a hitch, almost normally, but now the conversation is tinged with tension, marked by one of us occasionally squeezing the other's hand. If we had shared a car, something would have gone down tonight, without a doubt. I wish we had. I haven't found a nice guy to spend the night with since I got to Jersey.

Slow down, Cece, I think to myself. Aunt Gina's been dreaming about fish again.

He walks me to my car, which is parked under a streetlamp a distance away from the crowd, so I'm grateful. And then he presses me against the side of my Honda Civic, and I'm even more grateful.

"Cecily." He's towering over me, light creating a halo out of his hair.

"What." I'm up in flames.

"Open your mouth."