The Difference Between Us by Rachel Higginson
Holding back a smile, I told him, “Go. But don’t terrorize them too much.”
Standing up to his full height he asked, “Do you have everything you need? Can I get you something?”
A curling fear of dread interrupted the most exciting forty-five minutes of my dating life and I nearly winced from the sharpness of it. “Was hiring me to do this mural part of your seduction?”
He shook his head—it looked like he was trying to recover from my conversational whiplash. “What?”
“Did you only hire me to do this job because you want to get in my pants?”
A slow, promising smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. If I hadn’t been so panicked, I would have spontaneously combusted from it.
“Is getting in your pants an option?” he asked.
“That absolutely depends on your answer,” I countered. “And I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.” He raised one eyebrow. “You’re very transparent,” I explained. Which wasn’t at all true, but it was better to let him think I had the upper hand. Maybe then he would believe it.
“The mural had nothing to do with us,” he answered sincerely. “And everything to do with your talent. I’m definitely interested in you, Molly, but I’m also a businessman. I wouldn’t have hired you to change the entire interior of my struggling restaurant if I didn’t think you would be able to make a seriously positive change.”
My fears abated and I sucked in a steadying breath. “Sorry, I freaked out at you. I just didn’t want this to be a pity painting.”
His lips twitched at my description. “It’s anything but. I’m anxious to see what you come up with.”
“What about the marketing account?” I demanded, half hoping he would tell me that was just a ploy to spend more time with me and that I sucked at design. Because then I would have a reason to quit STS and start over. I could pursue painting or basket weaving or beekeeping. Anything would be better than working with Henry at this point.
My argument was foolproof. Foolproof-ish.
“Again, Molly, I’m worried you don’t see how talented you are. Since I’ve hired you, I’ve learned more about the ins and outs of advertising than the last firm taught me in the entire three years I employed them. You know your stuff. I’m truly lucky to have you working for the restaurants.”
That was not the answer I was looking for, because it was leagues better. Those weren’t the kind of criticisms that ended careers, those were the kinds of compliments that reignited the deep and abiding love for my job.
I hated the politics of STS and my bosses, and okay, fine, my clients too. But I loved the design part of it. I loved that creating graphics was the opposite of painting, and that was okay, because I enjoyed the details and the hours of perfecting a meaningful project. I hated the company I worked for, but damn I loved the grind.
Which probably made me insane different than the rest of the world.
“Fine,” I groaned. “You win. I like you. A lot.”
He chuckled again, and the sound was rich and chocolatey. I felt it all the way to my toes. He kissed my forehead. “That does make me a winner.” He stepped back for real this time. “Holler if you need anything.”
“Sure thing.”
I watched him walk into the kitchen without moving. This was crazy. Right?
And if it wasn’t crazy, what was it? What were we?
We hadn’t even been on a date yet. We’d done nothing but kiss and confess feelings. I hadn’t even had time to process this long enough to decide what I wanted from Ezra.
Besides more kisses obviously.
So maybe I didn’t need to put a label on us yet. Or any kind of pressure to figure it out. I wasn’t going to obsess over him or us or this. I was just going to let it happen. Because it was anybody’s guess right now where we’d end up.
I was just Molly, remember? And he was Ezra F-something Baptiste.
I was just a girl trying to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life. And he was everything smooth and successful. He’d already figured out life. He’d already accomplished what he’d set out to do.
Oh my god. We were too different. This would never work.
It couldn’t.
I was in so far over my head, I was already drowning and we’d only just put our feet in the water.
Spinning around to face the white wall, I tried to stay the panic rising up inside me like a tidal wave. My chest hurt as I struggled to even out my breathing. My hands started shaking and I reflexively reached for a paintbrush.
There, that feels better.
When my heartbeat didn’t slow, I grabbed my palette too. I’d asked Ezra to repaint this wall before I started my mural, so a fresh coat of white gleamed back at me, like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. A beacon calling me to safer waters.
I couldn’t analyze Ezra right now without freaking out. I couldn’t wrap my head around our conversation or his kisses or anything that had to do with him having feelings for me.
I pushed my rampant thoughts out of my head and turned them into an endless flow of inspiration instead. His dark hair, those endless eyes, his mysterious smile that made my soul move in a way that nothing else ever had turned into a relentless vision that I couldn’t wait to chase.
After I’d sketched a rough outline with pencil, I returned to my palette. Reaching for the acrylics I’d bought just for this project, I spread them out on my palette and began mixing the right shades. When I finally reached for my paintbrush, something significant settled inside me, lessening my fears and strengthening my spirit.
Painting became the protective cocoon that rescued me from the trembling fear I only just kept at bay. Ezra stopped by later to ask if I wanted to eat lunch with him, but I couldn’t give up painting. I told him I was in the zone, but I would take a raincheck.
The truth was I’d only bought myself time. I had no idea if I would take a raincheck. I had no idea what I was doing at all with my life. Except for this mural, my life suddenly felt very much like it was careening out of control.
I needed to do something about that. Later. When I could think and obsess and freak out in private.
For now, I was going to paint.
Chapter Nineteen
“We need to talk.”
Instantly I was angry. Just like that I was bubbling with silent rage, my teeth dripping with venom, my claws growing and curling and preparing, ready for war. It was the voice. And the person. And every single thing about him.
I slowly lifted my glare to find the Little Tucker hovering over me. I had been in the middle of a graphic and he’d interrupted just as I was trying to place the emblem in the exact spot to look life changing. But his voice had startled me enough that my hand had jerked, dragging it to the upper left corner, far away from my target. He’d ruined thirty minutes of work.
I contemplated ignoring him as I gripped the mouse with refreshed determination. Earlier in the week I’d sent an email to Doris from HR, explaining what had happened with Henry and how I felt harassed by him on an almost daily basis. I hadn’t expected an immediate return email since she was still on her cruise, but two hours later she’d responded. By telling me that it sounded like a colossal misunderstanding and that I should respectfully bring up the matter with him if I ever felt uncomfortable again. She was confident we could work things out without her. She was positive Henry would never do it again. She wanted me to leave her the hell alone so she could get back to sun tanning on the lido deck.
“About what?” I asked as I went back to staring at the computer screen. Graphic development was ten percent skill, twenty percent taste, thirty percent ability to keep your hand steady and three hundred percent mentally willing everything into place.
The numbers work. Don’t ask questions.
“I haven’t gotten your Black Soul updates, sweet cheeks,” he snarled. “I needed them three hours ago and they’re nowhere to be seen.”
A nervous feeling ticked inside me. I had ignored an emai
Since I’d been avoiding Ezra since Saturday, I was still fuzzy on when that would be. Sometime in the very distant, very ambiguous future, whenever I worked up the courage to see him again, he was going to be so impressed.
To be fair, he hadn’t made a huge effort to reach out to me either, so I felt vindicated. In like a really depressing way.
Victory! As I cried into my ice cream every night.
Not kidding. Just kidding.
Instead of dwelling on my ability to ruin every good thing, I’d thrown myself entirely into his project so I could impress him with my design genius. I would then proceed to ignore him from now until the end of time.
Fine, I had been the one to retreat Saturday, slinking out of Bianca without saying goodbye. And fine, I hadn’t made any effort to reach out to him or email him or text him or try to have any contact with him whatsoever since then. But it was Wednesday. Wednesday! He’d said he liked me and then let this go until Wednesday without even a work email!
Also, I hated being this girl.
I wanted the record to show, I loathed being this undecided, fickle, crazy person terrified female that didn’t know what she wanted or who she wanted or when she wanted it.
But I couldn’t seem to talk myself down from this psychotic ledge.
I couldn’t even paint my way out of these feelings. And believe me… I’d tried.
I barely spared Henry a look when I explained, “I’ve been really busy with the EFB Enterprises account. Sorry. I’ll get to the updates in a bit.”
“I need them now,” Henry gritted through clenched teeth.
The second meeting with Black Soul wasn’t until next week and all I had to do was change the color scheme they didn’t like. And no, for those interested, I hadn’t used gray and yellow.
I’d used black and white with some striking reds. It had a vintage Guns and Roses vibe to it. The suits wanted something subtler with softer colors. Basically, I should have gone with gray and yellow to begin with.
It would be a pain to go back through everything and re-shade, but I didn’t have to create anything new. I just needed a few focused hours to get it done.
Giving up on the graphic in front of me until Henry had slithered off, I pushed away from my desk and bit back a growl. “I don’t have them ready for you right now. But if they’re that important I can walk away from what I’m working on and start them.”
Henry’s expression turned sour, reminding me of a petulant child. “I had a feeling two major projects were going to be too much for you. You’re not ready for a lead role yet, baby. I told my dad that he should have let me run the EFB account. “
I resisted, barely, the urge to punch him in the throat. Was he seriously attacking my work ethic? If I had slacked on anything it was the Black Soul project and that was all his fault. And I would be more than happy to have a conversation with his dad about why I wasn’t totally enthusiastic about working with his deviant of a son.
But to Henry, I remained professional, poised, and only mildly bitchy. “They’re not too much,” I said coolly. “I’ve carved out plenty of time for each, but I was planning on starting the Black Soul touchups later in the week since my EFB account is on a tighter timeline. Why do you need them right now?”
Ignoring my question and my explanation and my entire A-plus work history, he tapped his fingers on the chest high partition and said, “I want those updates before you leave for the day. Got it?”
Clenching my teeth together to keep from choking him saying something I would regret, I nodded once. “Fine.”
“Good girl.” He smirked.
Expecting him to leave, I was surprised when he stayed. He stood there for another minute staring directly at my chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. I’d taken to wearing the most modest, dowdy clothing I owned to work. The chambray button-up paired with the Aztec printed maxi skirt I was wearing were hardly revealing, and yet Henry salivated all over my cubicle like he was front and center at a strip club.
“Do you mind?” I asked bluntly.
He reluctantly lifted his lascivious gaze and winked at me, then finally walked away.
That’s when I threw up all over my computer. Okay, maybe not all over my computer, but at least a little bit in my mouth. God, he was such an asshole!
A gross, disgusting, asshole.
After he disappeared, I contemplated running to HR again and demanding that they file a report for his employee record. I wasn’t imagining his gross behavior.
He was out of line.
At least, to my personal standards, he felt very, very out of line. Maybe Doris hadn’t understood before. Maybe she hadn’t realized how out of control he was. I knew she wanted to protect her own job and felt that writing up a formal complaint about the boss’s son maybe wasn’t the best way to do that. But she couldn’t ignore his behavior anymore. He was a liability. And pissing me off!
I stood up and walked over to her desk, but she still wasn’t there and writing a handwritten complaint wasn’t going to get me anywhere if she still wouldn’t be back for several days. Spinning around, I observed the whole office, trying to decide what to do. I spotted Mr. Tucker’s office and wondered about going directly to him. What would he say? What would he do? Was I prepared to accuse his son of sexual harassment directly to his face?
No, no I was not.
When I got back to my desk I opened all of my Black Soul files. But I just wasn’t mentally ready to start working on them yet. The last thing I wanted to do was give Henry what he wanted. He’d interrupted my entire day. Plus, now my planner was all out of order. He was the absolute worst!
Out of spite, I picked up my cell phone.
Henry would get the updates when I was finished with them. Which might be today. Or maybe tomorrow. Or maybe I wouldn’t do them after all and he could make the adjustments himself.
Wasn’t that a crazy thought?
Vera answered on the third ring. “What up, Molls? Are you at work?”
She was in a kitchen somewhere if the sound of clanking dishes, pots and pans was any indication. Immediately, I felt better, more relaxed. When everything felt crazy, jumbled and out of my control, she was the pillar that kept me anchored to sanity.
“Yes. Remind me why though?” I begged her, hoping to keep the real emotion out of my voice. “I vaguely remember winning the lottery. Tell me it was real.”
“First, stop buying scratch tickets. They never solve your problems. Second, you love health insurance. That’s why you’re at work.” Her voice gentled. “Have you had a bad day?”
“Super bad,” I admitted. “Unless those scratch tickets end up paying off.”
“They won’t,” she laughed. “Sorry to burst your bubble.”
I groaned. “Pretty sure my bubble was already popped.”
“Well, hey, I have news that might perk you up.”
“Give it to me,” I sighed. “Give me the will to work again.”
Vera’s laugh indicated that she was super excited to share her information with me. My curiosity was instantly piqued.
I heard a door open and close as she moved to a quieter space. Her voice dropped low and she said, “I overheard Killian on the phone with Ezra. Apparently, he wants to take you on a legit date. He wanted Killian’s advice on how not to screw this up with you.”
“Oh, no,” I whispered. “Oh, no!”
Of course Vera knew everything about Ezra and me. Because I’d told her everything. There was nothing else to do after my worst-case scenario reaction on Saturday than invite my BFF over, ply her with wine and ice cream, and confess all of the kissing, flirting, and running away like a giant chicken I did. Afterward, she’d graciously analyzed every single nuance with me until she was convinced we were going to have a double wedding—our childhood dream—and I co
She had reacted exactly like I’d expected her to—with massive congratulations and a wedding lecture like I had never heard before.
She had so many opinions on flowers and dresses and groom’s cakes. But after that, I had shared all of my fears and concerns. She had sympathized like I knew she would and together we’d decided that I should calm down and take this one day at a time.
I didn’t have to have all of the answers with Ezra right this second. I didn’t have to know how every single thing would play out or what would happen to us or if we would get past the first date. I just needed to make the best of today.
It was wise advice that I immediately took to heart.
I had been failing miserably doing that until just now.
“Molly, you can’t hide from him forever.” Her voice dropped to a whisper indicating that her fiancé was in listening distance. “From what I heard Killian say to him, I’m not even sure Ezra realizes you’re hiding from him. I think he’s just been so focused on work that he might think this is normal. No offense! Things at Bianca are tense.”
“Son of a bitch,” I growled. It wasn’t that I wanted to make this great big I’m-avoiding-you statement. It just complicated my feelings for him. I’d wrongly assumed he was avoiding me on purpose, because of some flaw or miscommunication. But if he’d been swamped with work and I’d turned this into something that it was not, then the stupid softening of my heart and anticipatory sighing of my girly bits could be a problem.
I had already decided that we couldn’t date. I didn’t even want to date him. Okay, fine, that was a dirty, filthy lie. But I only wanted to date him in theory. I couldn’t actually date him. Not if I enjoyed an intact heart and not having to hear about a fabulous new EFB Enterprises restaurant named Molly.
Vera made an impatient sound in the back of her throat. “Are you really that worried about going on one date with the man? I mean, Molly, he’s freaking gorgeous. And he’s a really good guy. He’s dependable and loyal and secretly nice. At least get a free meal and solid make out from him. You’re too uptight these days. You need a good lay.”