Author's Note
: Hi, petals. I'm dipping my toes in. Please relax and enjoy.
~*~
The office was almost deserted.
Kiera preferred it that way. The hum of the PCs barely disturbed the cascading silence around her, and the room was lit by the soft glow of abandoned monitors reflecting off the impervious wall of windows. During the day, Kiera felt vulnerable between those sheets of glass, an animal on display at a zoo; perfectly conscious that every move she made could be watched by the outside world.
At night, however, when darkness enveloped the world, it brought with it a peaceful calm that allowed her the space to breathe. One by one her colleagues shuffled out for the night, bidding each other a good evening and a promise to see them the following day. And every day, Kiera was left alone, tapping away at her e-mails, clicking through some of her more pressing projects, and finally feeling like she could concentrate on the things she needed to get done.
Often she ignored the way her colleagues looked at her as they left. She had better things to do than decipher whether the expressions were more of pity or of sympathy. Many of them had families, friends or loved ones to return home to, warm houses and warmer embraces that let the stress of their days melt away.
Not Kiera.
She lived alone, more out of preference than luck, which meant that staying late in the office affected nobody but herself. She didn't need her colleagues feeling sorry for her; it was a lifestyle she chose.
But there was another reason that Kiera enjoyed staying late in the office, beyond trying to get more work done: Jason.
She hated that it was so juvenile - having a crush on one's boss was usually saved for the teenager who didn't understand boundaries and professionalism - but all pragmatism flew out of the window when she was around him.
Even now she had to will her gaze to stay on her screen, flicking over her e-mails, and not drift to the door of his office, closed for now, or the clock on the wall as the minutes inched past. She had to ignore the pressing thoughts of how close he really was, even if he was behind a wall, or how great his shirt looked on him, or how perfectly crooked his smile was...
Kiera shook herself, and opened one of her e-mails instead.
She was half way through reading it when his door opened, the sound of it unnaturally loud in the quiet of the room.
"Kiera," came his surprised voice, "what are you still doing here?"
With a small breath to steady her already racing heart, Kiera looked up. There he was, arms folded casually as he leaned against his open door. She'd never known anyone wear a doorframe quite like Jason Sharpe.
"Oh just finishing up a few things," Kiera replied breezily, impressed with how steady and easy-going her voice sounded. She looked back to her computer. "You know how it is - work never sleeps!"
She watched from the corner of her eye as he paced over to her desk, acutely aware of every movement she made with her mouse on her screen.
"No, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't," he said softly. He perched against her desk. Kiera kept her eyes fixed firmly on the screen. "This will still be here tomorrow."
While she worked late often, Jason was either already gone, or not in the office at all. She couldn't exactly admit to him that she often worked late just for a chance to see him alone. That would be pathetic.
"It's just a few things."
She could feel his discerning gaze on her even as she refused to look at him.
Jason seemed to hesitate, then cleared his throat. "Is there no one... waiting for you at home? No one who misses you? I wouldn't be a very good boss if they thought I worked you to the bone like this."
Kirera could feel the blush rise to her cheeks before he had even finished speaking. They normally just chatted about not-very-much, if at all, when they were alone like this. She hadn't been prepared for actual questions.
"No," was all she managed through a thin smile. "There isn't."
"I see."
That was it, she told herself. That was the end of the conversation: a perfect opportunity for him to turn around and get on with the rest of his evening, and leave her to fantasize about him sweeping her into his arms... or bending her over the table...
Good god, stop it woman.
Grateful that he couldn't read her mind, Kiera went back to her work, caught between wishing Jason would stay and wishing he would leave.
After a few moments where she wondered if he would ask anything further, Jason excused himself, leaving Kiera feeling strangely bereft. There was a difference between working in a completely empty office and one that was nearly empty, and she found herself distracted, unable to concentrate.
There seemed little point in hanging around for the night with Jason gone, so Kiera slowly began to wrap up her work, trying not to mentally berate herself as she did it.
It was pathetic, she reasoned to herself, but then, the only person who could know about it to judge her was herself, which seemed equally pointless. Realistically, she knew there was no way in hell a man like Jason Sharpe would ever pay attention to her. While rumour had it that he 'entertained' a number of ladies of varying occupations, he wasn't really the sort of person to mix business with pleasure, much to Kiera's sadness.
Even if he felt a spark of desire for her, which was pushing it given their interactions, he wasn't likely to act on it - so staying late into the night for a chance to glimpse him was more voyeurism on her part than anything else. It kept the doldrums of life at bay, but that was all that could be said for her ritual.
Still, the
reality
didn't have to play into the fantasy, did it?
As she shrugged on her coat and made her way towards the lift, there was nothing stopping her mind from running away with her. There was no reason he couldn't call out after her just as the doors opened, asking her to hold the lift. No reason at all why they couldn't spend a few moments within each other's personal space as it slowly descended the floors. No reason his breath couldn't be on her neck as he stood just an inch closer than may have been appropriate, no reason his hand couldn't ghost over her waist in an attempt to pull her into him...
Except, of course, that it wasn't real, but that didn't stop Kiera's natural reactions at the thought. She was almost sad when the lift pinged open at the ground floor, ruining her momentary fantasy.
Alone, she walked out, her shoes echoing off the pale marble flooring as she headed towards the revolving glass door. She felt power in those footsteps, somehow, each stride reminding her that no matter what happened in her head, her life was one of a 'professional' woman. Outwardly, at least.