The Spectator

Chapter 8: Nice Limo You've Got Here

     The limo's back seat seemed smaller than usual, as Nate jostled against Ella yet again. It certainly seemed his driver was taking these corners rather sharply, an observation proven correct immediately as Ella flew up against him.

     "Oh, sorry!" Her hands contacting his knee as she caught herself from falling into his lap.

     "Don't worry about it, I don't know what's up with my driver," Nate assured her, but not moving to lower the partition and ask him to slow down. Another turn and it was Nate that suddenly had a hand on her knee. Well, that felt... nicer than it should. In any case, Nate quickly pulled away.

     "Sorry," he apologized, his voice low, his eyes flickering of their own accord to her mouth before moving straight ahead. He couldn't believe how he'd touched her just now. Totally inappropriate, he berated himself, shifting so she could have some space.

     "It's okay," she replied breathlessly, noting how he moved away with some disappointment. She, too, settled in her corner of the backseat. What did she expect? For him to keep touching her, putting his hands all over her, maybe throw in a little kiss? That would have been terrible, and inappropriate, and.... oh, God, so good. They had been mostly silent since they left the party, which was unlike them. She had to say something! "...This is a nice limo you've got here."

     She could have slapped herself. This is a nice limo you've got here. Really? Still, it seemed to dispel the awkward tension a little. Nate cracked a smile.

     "I would have brought the private jet but I figured this would do..."

     Ella laughed and Nate could have sighed with relief. If she was laughing at his dumb jokes she couldn't be that mad about the knee-touching incident.

     "You can pull out the private jet when there's rush hour traffic, Archibald. We should make it to Brooklyn heights just fine in this," She assured him.

     "Dan must have freaked when you told him you lived in Brooklyn," Nate commented.

     "Oh, you have no idea," Ella remembered that conversation vividly, "He recommended that little dive bar I was telling you about earlier, actually. I'd only lived there for a month when I started working for you, so it was good to have him as a spirit guide."

     "You did the dorm thing, then, while you were at NYU?" Nate asked. The earlier bit of awkward silence aside, making conversation with Ella was so easy, he just slipped into it automatically.

     "Yeah, it was..." She shuddered. "I hated those dorms but they were part of my scholarship so..."

     The car came to a stop. Ella peered out the window.

     "Well, this is my place," She said, quickly moving to open the door. Nate caught a glimpse of the neighborhood and immediately climbed out of the car as well, to her chagrin. "Nate, what are you doing?"

     Nate's driver, meanwhile, stood awkwardly not knowing what to do since both his passengers had opened their own doors.

     "It's alright, Phil," Nate dismissed him quickly, shutting his door. "El, I'll walk you upstairs."

     "Why?" She protested, "Nate, it's freezing! Get your ass back in the car!"

     "It's only forty degrees," He laughed, shrugging off his coat. Ella groaned. He ignored her reaction and put it around her shoulders. "Just until I get you inside."

     "Fine!" Ella swiveled quickly and headed for the front gate. Nate noted the absence of a doorman and felt even more justified. This neighborhood may have been in Brooklyn, but the differences between Williamsburg and Brooklyn Heights were staggering. And this particular part of Brooklyn Heights... Well, several street lights didn't work and steam rose from the sewers. The buildings looked old and, dare he think it... lower class. Ella was red from embarrassment as he followed her into the tiny lobby. She immediately took his coat off and handed it back. "Thank you for this, really, but I'm okay now, Nate."

     Nate ignored her and went to the elevator, pressing the button. "What floor do you live on?"

     "First off, that's broken," Ella told him, heading towards the stairs. He followed her, but she stopped on the first step, blocking him from climbing after her. "Nate..."
"You know, the more you protest, the longer I have to be here..." He pointed out.

     She narrowed her eyes and screwed up her mouth, before turning dramatically to climb the stairs.

     "Ugh, fine! You have a real problem, you know that?"

     "Oh, and what's that?" Nate asked, a little amused by how much this was upsetting her and even more entertained by the sight of her trying to climb stairs in a pair of heels.

     "White knight complex," She called back to him, holding onto the banister for dear life. That fucking elevator just had to be broken and now Nate Archibald was going to see where she lived... maybe she should just fall down the stairs and save herself that way.

     Nate chuckled. "Not the first time someone's told me that."

     "I bet," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. She was still rather tipsy and misjudged the distance from one step to the next. She caught herself, gripping the handrail, but Nate was there like a flash. She looked up at him, eyes wide. He raised an eyebrow at her.

     "I'm fine..." She insisted, straightening herself. He rolled his eyes.

     "Says the drunk..." He observed dryly, staying next to her as she kept climbing stairs. "What floor did you say you lived on?"

     "The fourth..." She informed him. "Which is why I asked you to stay downstairs-- Hey!"
With one swift movement, Nate swept her off her feet. He wasn't exactly sober himself, but at least he was wearing flat shoes. Or such was his justification for throwing his junior editor over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

     "You're taking forever," He told her, climbing the stairs rapidly.

     "But-- Nate! I'm wearing a dress!" She squealed, reaching back to make sure her skirt hadn't ridden up. Satisfied that nothing was exposed, she then busied herself protesting the entire way up the stairs. "Nathaniel Archibald, I am not a child! Put me down this instant! This is so inappropriate, I'm going to HR first thing tomorrow morning and--."

     "Oh, shut up," Nate begged her, finally putting her down on the fourth floor landing. She looked so cute glaring at him while she straightened her dress and smoothed down her hair he couldn't help but burst out laughing. "So you're going to HR and... doing what, exactly?"

     "Well, you got me up here in one piece, so maybe I won't go to HR," She replied, digging around her purse for her keys. She glared at him when he continued chortling. "Quit laughing! Looks like I'm not the only one who's drunk..."

     She began walking to her door, Nate close behind.

     "I'm twice your size, alcohol doesn't affect me the way it affects you," He informed her, still chuckling a little.

     She unlocked her door-- with some effort, this was a very old building-- and then looked back at Nate. So close to her, yet again, and still smelling deliciously of his cologne.

     "Do you... want some water or something?" She asked hesitantly.

     Nate looked at her, at that open door inviting him in, feeling for all the world that he should say yes. But...

     "I should go, it's pretty late... Besides I wouldn't want to give you an actual reason to go to HR," He joked. She chuckled half-heartedly.

     "Right, good thinking... Well, until Monday, then. See you later, boss," She told him, entering the warmth of her little apartment.

     "Later, Ella," Nate said his farewell, before turning to go. Ella shut her door... and exhaled. What a night.