An Office Romance

A new outlook on life is taken in this charming short story by Eirin Thompson.

OK, Kim. Are you in?” Morgan called from two desks away. I dithered momentarily. I’m normally the first in the office to line up for a night out, but the tickets for Jack Mallory were really expensive, and my spending on my tip-top social life was starting to get me down.

“Come on,” Morgan prompted. “It’s time to make up your mind. If you want me to add you in, tell me now.”

“Oh, go on,” I blurted out, feeling my wages drain from my bank account.

“Good woman,” Amy called from across the office. “It’ll be great. We can bring a change of clothes and go for pizzas after work, then straight on to the arena.”

Pizzas. Even more money. “I don’t suppose I need to ask if you want me to order you a ticket, Adam,” Morgan said. “You’re already going, I suppose.”

I glanced across to Adam’s desk. He said nothing, just looked up and gave a little smile to concede the fact.

Adam is a qualified first aider and gets to go free to the big events at the arena.

Last year he saw Adele, Ed Sheeran and Bruno Mars. Well, we all did, but Adam saw them free of charge.

I wondered if he wasn’t missing out, though, on being part of the group. Instead, he wore his first-aider uniform and probably couldn’t even have a tipple, as I imagined that would be regarded as dereliction of duty.

A waste of a good-looking lad, I sometimes thought. Though Adam was a bit on the quiet side for me.

Never mind. There was a new guy in the office I had my eye on, and I’d heard Morgan lining him up to go to the Jack Mallory concert with us.

That definitely made it a night worth looking forward to.

****

As the night of the concert drew near, I started making an extra effort to impress Nick, the new guy.

I got up earlier in the mornings so I could wash my hair before work, and snaffled a spritz of the perfume my sister, Kate, had bought on holiday.

“Oi!” she said. “Save your own pennies if you want nice things. And it’s your turn to cook tonight. It had better not be baked beans.”

I made an effort with my make-up and, in that final week, even popped on some big false eyelashes.

“Ready for coffee, Nick?” I asked one morning, smiling sweetly.

“Isn’t it my turn to make them?” he said, playing fairly by our rota.

“Don’t worry about that,” I told him. “Take five minutes to yourself to read the paper, or check your phone.”

“Or text your girlfriend,” Kyle called, trying to wind me up.

I’d accidentally on purpose forget to put his two spoonsful of sugar in his coffee, I decided.

As I passed Adam’s desk, I checked that he wanted his usual peppermint tea, with the bag left in.

“Thanks, Kim,” Adam said with his wallflower smile.

“I’ll come and help you. It’s a big order for one person.”

I didn’t mind Adam helping. He always washed his hands before he touched anything in the kitchenette, he invariably remembered what everyone drank, and he moved around me without collision. “Ouch!” I cried suddenly. I’d been hasty with the kettle and splashed some scalding water on my hand. I knew it wasn’t serious, but it smarted for a minute.

“Get that under the cold tap,” Adam said, reaching out to me with no fuss. “I don’t think you’ve done much damage, but you should slip off that ring and put it on your other hand just in case.”

I fiddled with it for a moment, but it was too slippery.

“Let me,” Adam said. He slid the ring off my hurt hand and transferred it to the other, hesitating when he realised that he was placing it on my wedding ring finger.

“That means we’re married now,” I teased him.

For a moment he looked into my eyes, then looked away.

“Keep it under the cool running water for twenty minutes,” Adam ordered. “I’ll finish the coffee run.”

“Twenty minutes!” I exclaimed. “Wouldn’t it be quicker just to stick some ice on it?”

“Definitely not recommended,” Adam

When I hurt myself at work, there was just one person I wanted to run to my aid . . .

replied “And no butter, either. That’s an old wives’ tale. Running water’s best. Trust me.”

I found that I did.

****

The day of the concert arrived.

I looked round the grotty flat I shared with Kate. She’d do it up in a heartbeat if I chipped in half the money, but I never had any spare cash.

But how could I ever bring a boyfriend back for a romantic night in unless I invested in sprucing the place up a bit? I couldn’t let Nick see me here.

That evening, we all changed our clothes in the staff toilets and I was impressed to see Nick emerge in a pair of Levi’s and a grey-blue T-shirt the exact shade of his eyes.

“No need to ask who you’ve got in your sights,” Morgan murmured in my ear. “I don’t blame you; he is rather gorgeous. If I wasn’t spoken for, I might be making a fight of it.”

I managed to seat myself directly opposite Nick at the pizza restaurant, giving me the opportunity to gaze at him without it looking odd.

He was certainly a handsome man, but I noticed he had an unfortunate habit of speaking with his mouth full.

A mere detail, I told myself when the food was finished and we sipped our coffees.

I was just allowing myself to settle back into admiring Nick when he blew his nose loudly on his napkin, scrunched it up and left it in the middle of the table.

At that point, I felt the first flutterings of doubt. Maybe Nick wasn’t the man for me.

****

Inside the arena, we made our way to our seats. I had Amy on my right and Nick on my left.

A couple of hours earlier I’d have been thrilled to find myself next to him for the main event, but now I wasn’t sure.

The support band were good, but it was when the lights went down before Jack Mallory’s entrance that we all started to shriek.

And when I say “all”, I mean all. Yes, even Nick.

This time, Amy turned to me with a doubtful look. I gave her my cartoon “Yikes!” face.

“Never mind!” she shouted in my ear. “Let’s just have a great night.”

And it should have been great, because Jack Mallory was on fire. His voice was on top form and his playing was perfect.

He joked with the audience, he said we were his favourite crowd, and he played every song we had come along hoping to hear.

The thing was, it was Jack Mallory I’d hoped to hear, and not the tuneless caterwauling which assaulted my left ear for the entire concert, as Nick attempted to join in.

It was relentless and dreadful and I couldn’t help resenting him when I thought about how much

I’d paid for my ticket and how much wallpaper I could have bought with the money.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, as we were waiting for the encore, Nick got so overwrought that he fainted.

Right there beside me, he slid off his seat, crashing into the one in front.

“Oh, not now,” I wailed, trying to do what I could with his lifeless body.

“Over here!” the man on his other side called, standing up and waving.

In a second, two uniformed first aiders appeared at the end of the row and everyone stood to let them pass.

“It’s OK, we’ve got him,” a familiar voice said.

It was Adam.

“Oh, I’m so glad it’s you,” I gushed. “What are the chances in a place this size?”

Adam gave a little smile. “He’s probably just got a bit over-excited, and a bit too hot, as well. We’ll look after him.”

Adam and his colleague managed to rouse Nick enough to support him as far as the aisle, and I didn’t see them again.

The upside was that the encore was sung just by Jack Mallory, with no unwanted accompaniment.

****

When the lights went up and we had to concede that the show was over, Adam reappeared in a vacated space behind my seat.

“Don’t take off straight away,” he said. “Go downstairs and wait for me at the box office. It’ll take a bit of time for the building to clear, but I’ll come back for you.”

Perhaps it was because he’d been so helpful when Nick had fainted; perhaps it was because he looked kind of cute in his first-aider uniform; but I agreed to let the others go on for a cab whilst I waited for Adam.

Twenty minutes later, I had to look twice to check that it was Adam striding towards me. The uniform was gone and in its place were black jeans and a black shirt, a leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

I’d noticed before that he was a good-looking guy, but had his hair always been this dark and shiny, and a bit long, so that it curled where it touched his collar?

Had his eyes always been so dark and deep, too?

Dispelling every misconception I’d had about him, Adam threaded his fingers through mine and spun me round.

“Come with me,” he said, and led me backstage.

I couldn’t believe what came next.

Not only had Adam, courtesy of his first aider’s pass, met Jack Mallory before the concert, but he had struck up quite a rapport with him – enough of a connection that Adam was able to bring me along and introduce me.

Mallory’s drummer took a photo of the three of us on Adam’s phone and Jack himself gave us a bottle of wine from his very own vineyard.

“For the two of you to enjoy, but maybe not tonight, if you’ve got work tomorrow.” He grinned.

The really big stars don’t forget what it’s like to be an ordinary person.

****

Adam drove me home. He was a good driver and had a nice car.

He could probably afford it because he didn’t blow all his wages on concert tickets.

“That was amazing,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s one of the perks of doing first aid,” Adam replied. “I’ve got quite a few selfies with famous people. You should think about doing your training. I could help you with it.”

“Me?” I asked doubtfully. “But I was hopeless when Nick was ill tonight.”

“That’s why we’d train you before letting you loose on real people,” Adam replied with a smile.

“What happened to him?” I asked, thinking I should have asked much sooner.

“Is he OK now?”

“His mum came and got him. He was fine,” Adam said.

“Listen,” he went on. “I like you, Kim. I’d like to see you again outside work. But if you’re against workplace relationships, I’ll back off.”

Although I firmly believed in kindness and being loyal to my friends, I’d never thought of myself as a girl who lived her life by principles, apart from acknowledging that toast generally lands butteredside-down.

But as this seemed to be turning into a butteredside-up situation, I didn’t want to blow it.

“As long as we keep work and fun separate,” I replied, feeling unusually wise, “I’d like to see you again, too. But is it OK if we don’t go out? I’d quite like a quiet night in with Jack’s bottle of wine.”

If we arranged it for next week, I thought, that would give me time to strip and paint my little sitting-room and buy some new throws for the sofas.

Adam didn’t say anything else. He slowly took off his seatbelt, leaned across and kissed me very softly on the lips.

The End.