The Spectator

Chapter 14: How to Get Your Shit Together

     Ella rolled over in bed— and she felt that she'd rolled right into Nate's arms. A smile spread on her sleeping face.

     "Good morning," she heard him murmur, kissing the top of her head. She nuzzled into his chest, planting kisses all over the warm skin there. Being in his arms felt so good it almost hurt. Actually, it was getting to be rather unpleasant, and it wasn't her heart aching-- it was her eyes. She murmured at Nate to close the blinds. He didn't respond and the light kept shining. It was so annoying, in fact, that she finally opened her eyes... and woke up.

     She immediately closed them again. She'd left her blinds open and a window full of morning sun was hitting her right in the face. She sat up yawning. Her bed was empty of anyone but herself, of course. She sighed frustratedly.

     The night of the launch party had not gone exactly as she'd expected. Not that she knew what she had expected, but she definitely had not thought Nate would kiss her. She laid back in her bed remembering it. It had been sudden, the presence of his warm lips on hers. One second, he was just sitting there looking more gorgeous than anyone had a right to and laughing at her lack of resistance to the cold, and the next... he was touching her. Softly. And looking at her mouth, which is what really did her in.

     She hadn't been able to help herself, parting her lips to kiss him back. It tasted like coffee and butter and he felt soft and warm in all the right ways... her free hand had reached for him without thinking, the kiss deepening. Her heart had been beating like it was trying to break free of her rib cage as he buried a hand in her hair, and her own hand slid up his neck bury her fingertips in the soft hair on his nape, nervous because this was Nate-- No, this was Mr. Archibald, she reminded herself. Her boss! Some sanity finally breaking through the fog of want that had descended over both of them, she'd had enough self-control to yank away.

      "Ella, I—," He'd stuttered. But whatever he was about to say, apology or confession, it never came and she was already standing.

     "We-- We can't do this," She'd told him, backing away as snow began to fall.

     It was no more than a flurry that melted before it hit the ground, but she damned that snow with its silly romantic timing straight to hell. She'd gone straight home afterwards. The idea of having to deal with... god, just anyone, including Nate himself at the after party had made her nauseous so she had gladly fallen into her bed in a drunken slumber. She hadn't been able to escape judgement, however. Her dreams were plagued with faces scowling at her all that night... Nate also featured heavily and this continued into the next nights that weekend. He was everywhere in her dreams: in her bed, back on the bench, somewhere on his desk at the office, in a million places but none of them actually here or actually with her.

     She should have kissed him back and shut the hell up is what she should have done! She groaned to herself, pulling the covers over her face. Logically, she knew she'd made the right decision. No good could come of fraternizing with her boss, for Pete's sake. Especially not when her boss was Nate Archibald, god's gift to women everywhere. Still, the irrational part of her, the part of her that felt, it was aching for him to touch her again.

     Eddy and Adam had been blowing up her phone since that very night, as well, and now that it was Monday she was going to have to face them. She knew they'd forgive her for disappearing. Or not. It didn't matter, she was used to getting dirty looks in the office, but Nate... She had no idea what she was going to do if— no, when— she saw Nate today.

     She pulled out clothes from her closet, breathing deeply to still the panic that was setting in. She caught a glance at herself in the reflection of her mirror and took a moment to look herself in the eye. It was time to get her shit together.