The One With Some Pie

“So,” I said, sitting across from Boss with dirty dishes from the dinner I’d cooked between us. “Let me get the pie.” He touched my forearm and said, “No, let me. Is it on the counter?” I nodded and he dropped his hand and disappeared behind me.

So far we’d discussed work, Boss’s penchant for running races, furniture styles, and politics. We hadn’t discussed his feelings, or mine, or his brother’s. We’d made zero progress, and the entire dinner had been full of awkward pauses.

Boss walked back to the table carrying the pie. “Wow, you made this?”

“Mmm hmm,” I said, and he said, “I love pie. I’ve never known anyone who could make a pie. Isn’t it difficult?”

“No,” I said. “It just takes practice, like everything else.”

“So you really like to cook and bake, huh?”

“I do. In a dream world, I’d like to do it for a living, I suppose.” I sighed and smiled at him cutting sloppy pieces, ruining the bottom crust. I kept my hand away from the offset spatula and watched him further mangle the pieces onto the dessert plates. “Thanks,” I said as he handed me my plate.

“Why don’t you?” he asked, settling back down across from me.

“Why don’t I what?” I wrinkled my brow, trying to track our conversation.

“Why don’t you cook and bake for a living? You don’t seem to enjoy working for me, do you?” He was grinning at me like an idiot with a secret.

“I’m just not into sales,” I shrugged. “It’s nothing personal.”

“And cooking and baking?” he prodded.

“Well, I haven’t gone to culinary school.” I started counting on my fingers. “I don’t know the first thing about restaurants; I wouldn’t know where to begin, and I don’t know if I’d even really like it. It’s one of those pipe dreams that people never pursue because they’re better as dreams.”

“But you’re not people,” he said. “You’re you.” He was still grinning wildly.

“Uh, OK,” I said, not knowing how to get away from this subject and move on to the one with feelings.

“This pie is amazing,” he murmured with a full mouth.

“I know,” I said. One thing I was sure of was the food in front of us. “I have amazing pie.”

“Did Ian ever try it?” he asked, and I choked on the crust that was in my mouth. “Uh, no,” I shook my head. “Ian and I never got to that.”

“Sorry for bringing him up, but we should talk about him,” Boss said. “I think you should try contacting him again. He’s just–he wants to be your friend.”

“And what would he say about this?” I asked, not looking at him. I was feeling a little bold, but bold enough to stare at Boss.

“I already told him about it. He said it was fine. Which is why I know he would be alright with you contacting him.”

“Oh, OK,” I said, suddenly depressed at the thought that Ian was fine with me and Boss.

“And, before I finish dessert, I promised I would tell you again that I have feelings for you. It’s alright if you don’t have them for me, but I’d like to know, either way,” he said.

“Uh, I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It’s weird, with you and me working, and Ian, and, you know. It’s just weird. And I don’t want Ian to hate you. You’re brothers.”

“Ian doesn’t hate me. Trust me. He doesn’t,” he said cryptically.

“OK,” I said. “But that doesn’t solve the us working together thing.”

“It only matters if you have feelings for me,” he reiterated.

“Right,” I said. “Well, I guess I might.”

“OK,” he said, his jaw working. “Well, then, how do you feel about quitting your job?” he asked me. I looked at him, and his eyes had gone dark and they were full of something. Lust? For me? It was thrilling, and surprising, and I was wrapped up in the sight of him. Before I could answer his question, he leaned across the tiny table, grabbed my wrist to pull me up, and kissed me.

No Pie

I stood at the counter rolling out a new pie crust recipe for sour cherry pie. Sarah and Molly kept stealing scraps of dough off the counter top until I turned around and said, “Cut it out! Quit it! This pie is not for you.”

“Oh, right, it’s for Boss. If I sleep with you, do I get a pie?” Sarah giggled.

Molly said, “Oh, I bet Ian got a lot of pie. TONS of pie.”

My cheeks reddened first, then my ears. I could feel the heat all over my face and neck a few seconds later. “Ian got no pie,” I said.

Molly dropped her pie dough and looked at it longingly on the floor. “I can’t eat it now, and I can’t even bend over to pick it up.”

“I’ll get it,” Sarah said. Then, “What do you mean, Ian got no pie?”

“I mean,” I said, and then blinked more than necessary, “there was no pie. There were other, er, desserts, but no pie.”

“Why the hell not? I would have jumped him!” Molly said. “Sorry, pregnancy hormones. But what? I would have.”

“He didn’t even come close to jumping me,” I mumbled. “I think that’s one of the reasons we never worked out. He never explained why, but he kept putting it off, making up terrible excuses like, ‘Oh, I have to vacuum my car in the morning!’ or ‘I have a cold, bad idea.’ I would have gladly vacuumed his car for him,” I said, and Molly and Sarah started snorting.

“I’m sure you weren’t the only one who vacuumed his car,” Sarah said.

“I was thinking that. Maybe he had another car vacuumer. Or maybe he just wasn’t attracted to me.”

“Oh, honey,” Sarah and Molly said together. “But Boss?” Molly asked. “That guy wants to jump your bones.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve given anyone a pie.”

Non-Post: Office Crush Cover Help

I am a few weeks away from finishing a decent draft of the Office Crush book (woo hoo!), and now I’m collecting covers that I love to give to my amazing graphic designer friend for inspiration.

So! I need your help. If you could design the OC book cover, what would be on it? Do you have a favorite book cover you love and could share the link or image with me? I’d be very grateful for your help!

Confrontation Is Not My Strong Suit, Obviously

I walked into Boss’s office and closed the door behind me. I was pretty sure I left all my resolve on the other side of it, because I felt like running, or disappearing into the wall, whichever would be easier. Boss looked up at me and smiled, and then his smile faded and he knit his eyebrows together.

“Hey Aust3n,” he said in a low voice. “What’s up?” He looked back at his computer screen instead of meeting my eyes.

“I need to talk to you about a rumor,” I said, my voice shaking a little. I gripped the door handle behind me, ready to bolt if things got too weird.

“A rumor,” he said slowly, his face turning toward me again. “What kind of rumor?”

“It’s about you. My friend Sarah–do you remember Sarah? She’s got red hair and–”

“I remember Sarah,” he said, cutting me off. “I remember seeing her the other day.” I looked at him, uncertain of what to say next. His face was so much older than I thought it was, creases around his eyes, tired, puffy bags under them. I wondered if I was the cause of it, and right then I could barely swallow, much less ask him if he was in love with me.

“I was wondering if–um. Maybe we could go out for a bite to eat.” It wasn’t quite what I intended on saying, but there was no way I was brave enough to do that in the office in the middle of the day. Maybe later. Maybe.

He shook his head and said, “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” He turned back to his computer screen and said, “Is that all?” He was dismissing me. He didn’t even want to know about the rumor? This was it?

“I…Uh…” I felt foolish standing there. Obviously Sarah misheard, because he was dismissing me too easily for the rumor to be true. A surprising pang of disappointment filled my chest and I blurted out, “Really? You said you had feelings for me.”

“I do, and that’s why I’m saying no,” he said in a whisper.

“Oh,” I said, and then, “But then maybe you could come out with me so we could talk some more.”

“I thought–I mean–” Boss turned his chair and looked out his window, and then he turned it back and said, “How about seven?”

“OK,” I said, my heart beat quickening by the second. “But Aust3n?” he asked when I was already halfway out the door.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to tell Ian. Right now. OK?” I nodded my head even though it was not OK, not even a little bit.

 

My Curiosity Got The Better Of Me

“So they were discussing me?” I was standing in Sarah’s kitchen, looking for a pan to make her and Ben some crepes.

“If you add nutella into that crepe, can we really eat it for dinner?” she asked. I nodded at her as I pulled out the right pan. “So, I heard them talking at this diner in Belltown.”

“And?” I said, holding my breath.

“And Ian was saying how Boss needed to date you,” she whispered.

“I hate him.” I was clenching and unclenching my jaw. “I didn’t think I could hate anyone as much as I hate Ian right now. What am I? Some amusement park ride?”

“Wait, Aust3n. There’s more. Boss was saying that Ian was a fool–”

“–correct–”

“–and Ian said that Boss was in love with you, and he couldn’t very well date you again knowing that.”

The pan clattered to the ground and I stared at her for a second before saying, “Sorry, what? I misheard you.”

“You didn’t. Ian said Boss was in love with you, and Boss didn’t deny it.”

“I’m going to need all of the nutella, Sarah. ALL OF IT,” I said, picking up the pan and not meeting her gaze. “And also a new job.”

“So you’re not going to do anything about it?” she said, gasping a little bit as I ignored her.

“What can I do?” I asked her.

“You can tell Boss you know, and you can see what he says.”

“Or I can go on without either of those idiots in my life,” I said. “Now. Nutella.”

“You could, but I’m pretty those idiots aren’t going away.” When I started pouring the crepe batter onto the hot pan, Sarah said, “Aust3n, you know you’re in love with one of them.”

“I know, but I’m in love with the one who’s not in love with me, and it doesn’t matter who I choose, that always seems to be the case,” I groaned.

“Or maybe you just have to make a decision and stick to it,” she said.

“My decision right now is nutella, OK? After that, I’ll talk to Boss.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” I said, but I wasn’t quite sure I was telling Sarah the truth.

 

I’m Going To Be Eating Ramen And Avoiding Sarah From Here On Out

“I think I’ll get a dog,” I said into my bowl of sorbet. “Who invented sorbet anyway? It’s like ice cream without any of the fun.”

“It’s nun ice cream. It’s abstinence ice cream,” Sarah said glumly, looking into her own bowl.

“This is the last time I let you pick the restaurant, Michael,” Molly practically growled. “I am pregnant and I need fat. I don’t care if you’re dating a vegan and want to find the best place for a date.”

“Alright!” Michael said, holding up his hands in defeat. “I get it! Meat for everyone. Meat is tasty, tasty murder!” He yelled this just as our wafer thin waitress passed by and scowled at us, dropping the check with a thud on the table.

“My guess is she’s a vegan,” I whispered and we all burst into inappropriate giggles.

“What do you mean, you’re going to get a dog?” Sarah asked.

“Man replacer,” Molly said with a mouthful of sorbet. “Maybe I’ll get one too.”

“No. You’re going to have a baby. That beats a dog any day,” Michael said.

“Yeah, well, one day the baby will grow up and trust me, no one is coming near a single mom with a ten foot pole,” she countered.

“So you’re really not going to call Chris?” I asked her.

“He’s embarrassed of me, Aust3n. He thinks me getting pregnant is shameful. He can’t face it.”

“I’m not taking his side, but I kind of get it. I mean, he’s Indian. His parents have certain…expectations,” I said, fearful of her response.

“Is it their expectation for their son to turn into a deadbeat dad?” she barked at me.

“No. Good point,” I said. “Anyway, dog.”

“Whatever,” Sarah said. “Molly has a good reason for never talking to Chris again. You? You and Ian could work it out. Or you and Boss. You get to pick!”

“I pick neither,” I said. “I pick a dog.”

“Not one of those yippie little dogs, please,” Michael added. “Not that you’re going to get a dog.”

“I am too!” I said, putting down my spoon, offended.

“How are you going to get the dog to the vet? In your bicycle basket?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “What happens if there’s an emergency? Are you really going to leave the dog home alone all day while you’re out at class and at work and biking around Seattle?”

“Well, I think I’m going to be done with class soon. English classes are not for me. And maybe I’ll drive again. I could get a car,” I said. Everyone at the table stared at me, giving me the same owlish look of surprise. “What?” I asked.

“You? Are going to drive?” Molly said in a barely audible tone.

“You’re having a kid. I need to be able to see you and help in the middle of the night. It’s time, I think.” She nodded at me absently but then said, “Are you doing this because of some notion that Ian will come back to you if you’re more…uh…self-possessed?”

“Hey! I’m self-possessed!”

“I said MORE self-possessed,” Molly huffed. Michael and Sarah continued their owlish looks. “No,” I answered her. “I don’t expect to see Ian ever again. I’m doing this because I want to quit my job and do something else, and I think this is the first step, OK?”

“OK,” she nodded, as did Sarah and Michael. “You want to quit to get away from Boss?”

“I want to quit to get away from ME. I am so sick of that job, of being this person with no prospects. Enough. Time to grow up. Alright,” I said, picking up the check, “This one is on me, but only because vegan food is cheap and I’m going to be broke from car payments soon and you’ll have to pay for me at every meal.”

“I need to tell you something,” Sarah said, clearing her throat. We all looked at her and my stomach started flopping around like a fish caught on a line. “Yes?” I asked.

“I saw Ian and Boss one night when I was out with Ben. And they were, uh, discussing you,” she said.

I put my hand down on the table. “I don’t want to know, Sarah.”

“You want to know,” she said.

“I don’t,” I said. “I don’t want to know anything more about either of them. I’m going to pretend you never said that, OK?”

Sarah looked exasperated with me for a full minute and then nodded. We were all silent after that, probably because Molly and Michael were waiting to leave the restaurant and find out what Sarah knew, and I was waiting to get as far away from there as possible.

I looked at my phone at the text Ian sent a few weeks ago, him smiling at me from some grassy patch in Portland, and I wished I knew even less. I pressed delete and wished him away from my memory, and then went back to the office to talk to his brother.

Now We All Hate Each Other. Perfect.

“What do you MEAN, you have feelings for me?” I said to Boss’s retreating back. He turned around and I almost bumped into him, nose to nose. I’d never noticed how much shorter than Ian he was. He always seemed so intimidating at work. He looked down and shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a step back from me.

“I don’t want to discuss this,” he mumbled.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” I said. Anger flared within me. I didn’t know what kind of game Boss was playing, but I was done. I’d sat there for two years without him saying a thing, crushing on him from afar. I watched him date models and terrible actresses and other kinds of waifs. I’d been friendly with all them, and he’d never once looked at me like he was looking at me now, his eyes pleading with me. “I want to know what you meant,” I said, my jaw already tensing and my hands in fists.

“I meant that I have feelings for you, Aust3n. I always have.” His eyes were softer now, but still not convincing.

“We knew each other for two years before I ever met your brother. Did you have feelings for me then?”

“Of course,” he said. “Isn’t that what I just told you?”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about them?”

“Because,” he shrugged.

“Because? Because it wasn’t important until it turned out someone else wanted me and maybe I couldn’t be yours whenever you wanted? Or was it just that you didn’t think of me until you saw me with Ian. You just want what you can’t have?”

“It’s not like that at all.”

“THEN WHAT IS IT LIKE? TELL ME!” I growled at him. He stood silently in front of me, saying nothing. I saw a few people in the park stop to watch us, and my cheeks warmed instantly. I whispered, “I am not doing this anymore,” and then I walked away from him.

“Doing what?” I heard him ask behind me.

“I quit. I will find a job with someone who respects me, who isn’t a sadist, who doesn’t play with my feelings like I’m some toy.”

“Aust3n, wait. You can’t quit. Please, please.”

I turned to look at him and suddenly all my resolve left me. I didn’t have enough saved up to look for a new job and pay for my class at the University. I wanted to quit, but not like this. “I won’t quit,” I whispered. “But you? You’re going to stay away from me.”

“OK,” he said, his head tilted up to the sky. “That sounds reasonable.”

I walked away then, and when I glanced back, he was still standing where I’d left him, his face pinched as if in pain, and my heart lurched into my stomach, realizing just then he was confessing something he’d be holding in for years. A twinge of regret hit me as I wondered if I would ever find out the truth.

And Now I Will Never Be Able To Look At Him In The Eyes Again

“YOU. This is YOUR FAULT and you’re going to fix it.” I was practically frothing at the mouth and wanted to grab Boss by the collar and strangle him. I didn’t know what he’d said to Ian, but I knew it was him.

“Can you keep your voice down?” he said, his face a bit pale. We were standing in the Olympic Sculpture Park where I’d asked to meet Boss for lunch so I could strangle him without my coworkers witnessing my downfall and arrest.

“NO!” I like to be in control and never make a scene, but Ian was making me crazy with his “giving me up” garbage. Women aren’t toys or deeds. We can’t be given up. Where was my choice in this? When I’d left a rambling message for my therapist, Mary, saying exactly this, she called me back and said, “Good job, girl. You’re growing up.” So I knew I needed to strangle Boss and get him to get Ian to talk to me again.

“Maybe we could sit over there?” he said as he motioned to a set of benches in the corner of the park. I nodded and followed him, my hands balled up and anger still coursing through me.

Once Boss sat down, he looked up at me still standing and said, “I told him to talk to you. I told him you two should be together. But–”

“What?” My stomach dropped to my knees just by looking at his face.

“He feels like–he thinks that we–” He moved his hands in the space between us and looked down, his face reddening. “He thinks we need to work out whatever is between us.”

“This is ridiculous! Did you tell him there’s nothing between us?” I flung my hands up in the air and turned my back on Boss.

“I didn’t,” he said very quietly. “I told him I had feelings for you.”

I turned around again and said, “WHY would you do that? WHY?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I shouldn’t have, clearly.”

I was clenching my jaw so tightly it started aching. “Can you tell him you don’t have feelings for me? Please?”

He nodded. “I could do that,” he said, and looked away. “I should do that.  I will do that. I’ll call him tonight and tell him. That should straighten everything out.”

“OK,” I said, relaxed enough to finally sit on the edge of the bench away from him. “Thank you.”

“But Austen?”

“Yeah?”

“You should know that I do have feelings for you,” he said, and then he got up and walked away without looking back at me.

 

More Texts With Ian

Me: Can we talk about what happened?

Him: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

Me: Just tell me. Are you seeing someone else?

Him: Would that matter?

Me: Of course it would matter.

Him: It wouldn’t matter.

Me: Stop it. It would make a difference. Wouldn’t it make a difference if I was seeing someone?

Him: I know about you and Boss.

Me: I know you know. I told you.

Him: No. I know how you feel about him.

Me: Mind telling me, since you’re so in the know?

Him: You like him. You have feelings for him.

Me: I have feelings for you.

Him: He has feelings for you.

Me: How would you know this? He acts like he doesn’t like me very much.

Him: He does like you very much.

Me: What does that have to do with you and me?

Him: He’s my brother. It has everything to do with me and you.

Me: What if I told you I didn’t want to date him?

Him: Is that really true? You don’t want to date him at all? You’re not curious about the two of you?

Me: Honestly?

Him: I hope.

Me: Honestly, I don’t know.

Him: He told me you’ve had a crush on him for years.

Me: He knew that?

Him: Apparently. You’ve known me for a couple of months. You’ve known him for years. You’re not curious?

Me: I….This is irrelevant.

Him: It’s not irrelevant. I can’t date someone my brother is in love with.

Me: HE’S NOT IN LOVE WITH ME.

Him: I really don’t think it could possibly work between me and you. There’s too much…stuff.

I didn’t answer him because I was too busy screaming.

All Over Again

Ian and I were sitting in front of the TV eating Thai food and watching more Flight of the Conchords. It was his last hour with me. He was driving back to Portland, and I didn’t know how to tell him how much he meant to me.I was trying to figure out a way to tell Ian that I wanted to be more than friends, but every time I got near him, or tried to grab his hand, or look at him, he would step back or turn away. He acted like he was allergic to me. But the weekend was amazing anyway. We went for ice cream and bike rides and sat in the sun and talked and talked and talked, and I remembered what it was like to be with him. It was being with my best friend who made me laugh and who told the best stories, and I never wanted to go to sleep when he was around.

I worked up my nerve and cleared my throat. “Ian?”

“Mmm?” He was still not looking at me. Of course he wasn’t.

“I was wondering if I could talk to you about something important.” I fiddled with the zip on my hoodie and stared down.

He sighed and said, “I have to talk to you about something important, too.” This time he looked at me and put his hand on my knee, making it tingle instantly from his touch. He pulled his hand back immediately and frowned like I was disgusting him.

“Oh? What’s that? You go first.” I said.

I had a feeling he was going to tell me he was dating someone and that my pathetic attempts to catch his attention over the weekend were futile. I fidgeted with my zipper some more and looked away from him again. I was sitting too close. I’d forgotten how being near him and smelling his smell made me feel weak in love. I didn’t want to be weak, and I didn’t want to be in love with him. I wanted someone available, and in Seattle, and who wasn’t about to tell me about his fabulous new girlfriend. I was glad he was going first, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself.

“I got the feeling this weekend that maybe you were dropping hints about us.” I wondered if he got that from me taking him to where he told me he loved me and lingering on the spot, or biking back to the beach where he first kissed me. I’m subtle like an armored truck. I knew it was dumb, but I was also a little desperate. A lot desperate. The more time we spent together, the more I realized I was a complete idiot to be apart from him.

I looked away from him.

“I don’t think we should date, Aust3n.” He looked at me with this earnest expression. I knew he was trying to let me down easy, but there was just no way to do it. I felt my face go hot and my eyes water.

“Oh,” I said. “That’s fine.” I got up quickly to go hide in the bathroom, and I heard Ian knock on the door once I’d locked it and slumped to the ground.

“Aust3n?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s that I think there’s someone else out there for you who’s more–there’s someone else for you. Believe me. I know.”

I didn’t know what to say, and I was crying, so I wasn’t going to attempt speech anyway. He wasn’t telling me about his new, sexy girlfriend, but I knew.

I heard him slide down on the other side of the door. “Aust3n, this weekend was fun. It was great to see you again. We can still be friends, right?”

I didn’t answer. We couldn’t. I had too many feelings for him. I wanted him too much. This was too embarrassing.

“Aust3n?”

When I didn’t answer again, he sighed and said, “I’m going to go, OK? But I’ll text you. I wish I could explain myself better, but it’s something I know you’ll figure out soon. And you know I think you’re incredible, and this weekend was one of the best ever, and I’ll never forget it. You know that, right?”

After a few minutes of silence, I heard him walk away from the bathroom door, and shortly after I heard my front door open and then close. So he was gone, and that was it.