Michael sat at his desk working out the logic of another for loop. The digital clock changed to five fifteen but Michael didn't notice. He was focused on the computer screen in front of him. A deep voice behind him startled him and he jumped.
"Mike it's Friday, why don't you go home." It was Ray, his boss.
Ray was a good boss but he insisted on calling Michael, Mike. Michael hated that name. To be fair, when Ray had hired Michael he asked if he went by Michael or Mike and for some unexplainable reason that Michael had never understood, he'd responded with "Mike." He'd never had the courage to tell Ray that he really preferred to be called Michael.
"I'm just finishing up this routine to calculate the molecular density of the sample object and then I'll get out of here. I promise."
"Good. You know this job is a marathon, not a sprint. You need to take care of yourself outside of work too."
Michael nodded but was already completely absorbed back in his coding. Ray shook his head and padded away.
Sometime later Michael ran his final test on his new routine and sat back in his desk. The clock read six twenty-eight. He committed his code changes and started shutting down all the various windows he had open on his desktop when he realized with a start that he wasn't alone. He jerked around, knocking his keyboard off its tray with a clatter.
"Hi."
The feminine voice fit the woman it belonged to. She was pretty in a girl-next-door way that exuded innocence and sexuality at the same time. Deep brunette hair cascaded down her shoulders framing a slender face with high cheek bones and bright green eyes. She'd pulled a chair up behind his cubicle and was just sitting there.
"Uh, hi, I mean, can I help you?" Michael started to stand up but his legs were caught by his keyboard cord. He sat back down and tried in vain to work the keyboard back up onto the tray.
She smiled. Michael immediately felt blood rush to his face.
"I'm here to help you, Michael."
His brow furrowed and he pursed his lips. "Uh, okay. Do I, I mean, um, need help?" He pulled a leg out of loop of keyboard cord managing to knock his shoe off in the process.
"Desperately." She smiled again.
"Can you elaborate?" Michael finished untangling himself and slipped his shoe back on.
"I'm Liz. Let's take a walk."
"Where are we going?"
"Just down the street. Do you know Julio's? You're taking me to supper."
"I am?" Michael felt very confused by this whole situation.
"You are." Liz stood and waited as Michael completed shutting his computer down.
Once he was done, Michael jerked to his feet nearly knocking his chair over. Embarrassed, he blushed bright red as he joined Liz outside his cubicle. The rest of the office was empty, which wasn't unusual for this time of day especially on a Friday.
"Do you, I mean, um, work here?" Michael asked as they walked toward the door.
Liz laughed. "No Michael. Am I making you nervous?"
Michael realized he was fidgeting and tried to calm his hands. He'd never taken a girl on a date before but he wasn't sure that this was a date anyway. He was confused, embarrassed by nervousness, and felt awkward. Liz smelled good and she was very pretty but he knew she would pick on him or be mean. Girls always treated him like that.
"Yeah, a little. I mean, I don't know you. And, I mean, I don't know what's going on."
"Do you always have to know what is going on?"
"Yeah. I mean, I like to."
"So a control freak. Mmm, maybe a little uncertainty is what you need in your life."
"Who let you in the building?" Michael asked as they reached the door. The building was secure and non-employees were not supposed to be in it after hours.
"Are you going to call the cops on me, Michael?" Liz smiled at him. "That would put a real damper on our first date, don't you think?"
"Is this a date?" He wrung his hands, shifting from foot to foot.
"Yes, this is a date." She turned to him and took his hands in hers. "Do you want to go on a date with me? I assure you that you will have a good time."
Michael looked at her. She was almost the same height as him but then she was wearing heels, so maybe an inch or two shorter. She wasn't rail thin; full breasts, trim waist, nice hips, and long sexy legs. She was wearing a sleeveless white blouse with a classic black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees. The blouse had a low squared collar that showed off a couple of inches of her cleavage. A tight black choker necklace and a diamond ring on her left hand were her only jewelry.
Michael knew he wasn't bad looking, but he admitted to himself that he was completely socially inept. Even the nerds and geeks didn't want to hang out with him. At twenty-four he was still a virgin and the only girl he'd ever kissed was his mother. Even Michael knew that didn't count. He just never was able ask a girl out. His fear of rejection was too pronounced, aggravated his entire life by constant rejection by every girl, other than his mother, that he'd ever met.
"Yeah, I mean, sure. I'd love to, I mean, take you on a date, but why would you date me?"
Liz smiled at him. "I like you," she stated frankly. "Why wouldn't I date you? You are a good looking, employed man."
"Girls don't, I mean, like me. I mean, guys don't like me either."
"I like you. Let's go."
Outside the building his bike was chained to a bike rest. Liz took his hand and led him out of the parking lot to the sidewalk.
"We're going to walk?" Michael asked.
"Sure, Julio's isn't far."
Julio's was a classic Texmex restaurant that most of Daltech's software engineers ate lunch at frequently. "I know. I just didn't think you'd want to walk."
"I like walking and it's so beautiful out." She smiled at him as he looked up and around.
She was right, it was wonderful weather. Irving could be hot in the summer but a cool front had blown through the day before and it was only about eighty-five degrees today with a light breeze. They arrived at the restaurant and got their name on the list. The hostess told them it was a fifteen minute wait so they went to the bar and ordered drinks. Liz got a mojito and Michael ordered a lemonade.
"A lemonade, Michael?" Liz teased.
