Love All The Way

3| Ho Ho Ho

The moment I get to the office, I'm in trouble. I step into the elevator with Charlie from three and Sandra from four. They both stare ahead, but when they think I'm not looking, share a look behind my back. So, it's official. Everyone in this building has heard: I'll be booking my flights tonight.

They get out on their respective floors, leaving me to suffer in peace. I stare at myself in the door's reflection, straightening out my gray dress. I'd almost forgone the Russian Red lipstick today – it reminds me too much of Milo – but my petty side sees it as a fuck you to Lucas, so for now, the lipstick stays.

The doors open up, and I step into the aisle. Milo is already sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer. I walk right past him and don't turn around until I'm sitting at my desk. He's got a phone to his ear, no doubt discussing a property with a client, but he doesn't once look at me. It's weird to think that I know how he tastes or kisses. Before the party, we barely ever spoke; now I've felt the inside of his mouth.

Opposite, Jess waves a hand in my face, waiting for the details. While I'd offered a brief summary when she'd called me on Sunday, she doesn't know everything – I'd like to keep it that way.

"So?" she says.

"So, nothing," I say back, checking my emails. "I made a horrible mistake, for which I'm probably going to be fired for."

Laurelle's rule is this: whatever you do outside of the office reflects back on the company, and if it reflects badly, you're gone. While my relationship with Lucas was just about tolerated, something tells me hooking up with Milo in a public elevator crosses the line. 

Jess leans back in her chair, staring at the wall. "I know it was my idea and all, but I just can't imagine what he'd be like to kiss. He's so serious and neat. I can imagine him being horrified by a little lipgloss ending up on his collar or something."

I sigh because if I don't give her something, she'll be relentless. "Let's just say he's different when kissing." The thought of his lipstick-stained mouth comes back, and I suddenly feel hot. "I need to concentrate, Jess. Shush."

Despite the easiness of our conversation, we're working in chaos. The office is in the middle of a huge renovation, which means the sound of drilling and yelling is constant. The only people with any space – and peace – are the lucky ones upstairs on seven. 

For the next two hours, my phone rings off the hook. While this time of year is usually our quietist, we've been inundated with clients this week. If it were up to me, I'd skip Christmas entirely, but it's hard when I'm sitting in Santa's grotto. Tinsel adorns every surface, and a floor-to-ceiling Christmas tree proudly flashes its garish blue lights – a reminder of my perpetual loneliness. 

At least I'm not alone in my misery. Across the office, Milo glares at the tinsel around his desktop. For reasons unbeknown to the rest of us, Milo has never liked Christmas. As soon as Halloween passes, he transforms into an even less tolerable version of himself, and this year is no exception. 

I tilt my head and watch him. He looks like a giant hunched over his desk. He's taller than most, so his long legs don't fit beneath the table very well, making him forever look uncomfortable.

I know how you taste, I think. 

He looks over. Pauses. I know how you taste. 

I look away, instead focusing on sizing up my competition. Harry sits in the corner, tapping away on his computer while simultaneously readjusting his Harry Potter-style glasses. He's been a six a little longer than I have, which gives him the edge, but as good as he is at the analytical side of things, he struggles with building strong relationships with clients, giving me the edge – one I hope Laurelle has noticed.