Tim Wallace, 32, lived in Seattle working as an Art Director for Branson Tanner, a marketing agency of moderate stature. He had moved to Seattle from Cleveland for the job, but even after two years, he still hadn't gotten used to the near-constant rainfall. It beat brutal winters, he supposed, but not by a lot. It was Friday and he had forgotten his umbrella again, so his brown hair still dripped as he rode the elevator to the third floor.
There was a lump in his throat. He hoped beyond hope that Kelly wasn't there, that she was sick, or even quit.
When he started at Branson Tanner, Tim made quick friends with Kelly Forbes, one of the Copywriters, and with Lyra Price, a Project Manager who had been Kelly's friend for several years before Tim came along.
Kelly was about 5'8", with long blonde hair, that she usually kept in a ponytail, hazel eyes and glasses, a trendy look that accented her intelligence. Tim and Kelly had a shorthand way of communicating, creating inside jokes and playing pranks on fellow co-workers. They were so close that others often joked they were work spouses.
Lyra was 5'6", a thick black woman who completed their little confidential circle of friends. Lyra had a brilliant sense of humor that kept Tim and Kelly suitably entertained. She had known Kelly much longer than she had known Tim, but Tim knew it was safe to talk to Lyra privately about Kelly, a trait he made good use of after it became obvious that Tim had developed romantic feelings for his blonde friend.
He hadn't known how to handle it. Tim was not the most intuitive man in the world when it came to matters of the heart. On one hand, he couldn't ignore his growing feelings toward Kelly. On the other hand, workplace romances were inherently complicated and he didn't want to inadvertently ruin the strong friendship he had developed. He often vented this conundrum to Lyra, trying to get her to give him advice, but she refused to make his decisions for him, offering instead a sympathetic ear. Tim did he best to return the favor, listening as Lyra complained about her boyfriend Derek, without offering advice. After all, what good was his advice when he couldn't sort out his own romantic problems?
When Kelly became reacquainted with an old boyfriend and things got serious, it became more difficult for Tim to interact with her. He became more distant, feigning excitement for her relationship, but retreating more often to his work. The three friends began to spend less time together. Tim still went out for drinks occasionally with Kelly and Lyra, but Kelly usually cut things short to spend time with her boyfriend, Mark.
Then, it happened.
It was Friday. Kelly had been on vacation for a week, so Tim and Lyra were talking at the bar around the corner from Branson Tanner after work, a bar called Marty's, which, for some reason, had become the go-to watering hole for the three friends. In walked Kelly, grinning from ear to ear, a shiny ring on her finger. She and Mark had gone to San Diego and, caught up in the romantic week away, had gotten married.
Lyra did a much better job than Tim being supportive and enthusiastic. He offered his best fake "congratulations," and found a reason to leave the bar as soon as possible, his heart pounding in his chest, his head reeling from disappointment and jealousy.
Lyra called Tim that weekend, knowing that the news had hit him hard. She felt sorry for him, but reminded him that Kelly was happy and that he should try to put his feelings aside and be the best friend he could be.
He did his best, but such a thing isn't easy. During the following weeks, Tim still tried to joke with Kelly, but there was an unspoken sadness in each interaction. It couldn't have gone unnoticed by Kelly.
By Thursday, Tim was certain of it. He was on his way out of the building and Kelly grabbed his arm. "Hey you," she smiled familiarly, "I barely see you anymore. Let's grab a drink or six."
Tim's response was cold. "I'm pretty sure your husband wouldn't like it so much if you came home drunk." He tore himself away and walked briskly to his car, already kicking himself for being so short with her.
Friday would be uncomfortable.
Tim watched droplets of water falling from his hair to the carpet as the elevator beeped that he had reached the 20th floor. Thankfully, Kelly wasn't standing there when the doors opened. He took an alternate route to his desk to avoid her, sat down and tried to clear his head before getting into his work.
It wasn't going to be that easy. The first email was from Kelly. "I want to talk about this," it read. "Meet at Marty's after work?" It took Tim a while to even know how to respond. He drafted several responses before simply writing "yes, 5:30," and hitting send.
It was a long day.
Tim made his way out the door just before 5:30. It was still pouring rain and he was kicking himself for not bringing his umbrella. He ran quickly to Marty's but was drenched and winded when he arrived. He had hoped to hit the restroom and dry off a bit before Kelly arrived, so he would look a little less pathetic, but there she was, waving to him from a corner table.
Damn. She looked good. She wore an olive sweater that brought out the hazel color of her eyes. It cut just low enough to be alluring. Tim, Drenched and disheveled, walked over and sat down across from her.
"I already ordered a drink for you. I thought you might need it," Kelly said.
"Thanks," Tim replied, unsure what to say next.
Kelly sensed his tension. "I covered Jeanie's desk with paperclips today," she said.
Tim's dour expression cracked. He couldn't help but smile slightly. It was the type of prank she and Tim often used to play on unsuspecting co-workers.
"If she shows up on Monday with some new piercings," said Tim, "I'll know it was because of the paperclips."
Kelly laughed. "Yeah. Don't tell anyone. You should have seen Jeanie's face. It took her a half hour to clean up her desk."
Tim's laugh subsided. He took a drink.
"What's going on, Tim?" Kelly asked. "You won't even talk to me anymore."
He searched for the right words. Anything he could say would be unjustified. He had treated his friend unfairly. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and took another drink, looking away from Kelly's face to stare at the table's surface.
Kelly reached across and put her hand on top of his. "You can talk to me, Tim. You know that."
Tim looked up. "Not about this," he said.
She pulled her hand back and took a sip of her beer. "You know, I've wondered about you for a while."
"Wondered? Wondered what?" he asked.
"We've been friends for a while," she said, "and there's always been an attraction between us. I should have known that what was going on with me and Mark would bother you."
Tim rubbed the rain from his forehead. "What are you trying to get me to say? Are you trying to get me to admit I started having feelings for you? Alright, I admit it."
"What did you think was going to happen?" Kelly asked.
"I don't know. I didn't really think about it, I just got too attached. I don't have an excuse. I just knew I liked you," Tim replied.
"Why didn't you ever say something?" she persisted.
"Say something?" he countered. "Are you saying you had no idea?"
"I suspected, of course."
"Then why didn't you say something, Kelly?"
Her eyes sank. She didn't have an answer.
"You didn't feel the same way," Tim answered for her. "That's why."
Kelly's eyes locked with his again. "That's not true. I did feel something for you."
"You did?"
"Yeah."
"What did you feel?"
