I shrug, “I mean, we had a class together.”
That’s as much as I want to elaborate. Things are going well between us and I’d rather not rock the boat. Nate stops at my doorway, but doesn’t follow me in. When I look up from behind my desk, he’s staring across the floor like he’s deep in thought.
“What?” I ask. Nate shakes his head with a smile, but doesn’t say anything. I cast a suspicious glance at him, “Why are you being weird?”
“Not being weird, just…” he hesitates, choosing his next words carefully, “making sure you’re OK. You’re the only one over here, you know.”
I love Nate’s roundabout way of poking around for information, as if he himself hasn’t tried to do the exact same thing he’s implying Colson is doing.
“Because Colson’s batshit?” I ask nonchalantly.
Nate lets out a surprised laugh at my unexpected candor, “Batshit…” he repeats, which finally makes him get to the point, “and he seems real interested in you.”
“Does he?” I feign ignorance, but he catches my subtle smile.
“But, seriously, is he batshit?” There’s a catch in Nate’s voice, like he’s deciding whether I’m joking or not. “Like, for real?”
This is too easy.
I lean onto my elbows and crane my neck to look past Nate’s shoulder into the hallway, “Fucking. Nuts.” I murmur with a nod.
This makes Nate laugh, so I hope he decides to drop it.
“I appreciate it, Nate. But when’s the last time anything dangerous happened around here besides the time someone stole Dave’s leftover Chinese and he sent out an email blast threatening to check the cameras?”
Nate nods in admission. Like I said, the only shooting he ever does is at the range to maintain whatever certification he needs to work here. And he must not be too concerned, since he doesn’t even notice Colson approaching until he startles Nate in the doorway.
Some security guard…
The lingering stare Colson gives Nate as he brushes past him isn’t lost on me. Actually, I’m pretty sure he made it obvious on purpose. I track Colson across my office with a half-smile until he pauses at my desk and sets down a white paper coffee cup with a black plastic lid—the type that’s stocked in the break rooms. Then he continues to the corner and plants himself in the chair next to the window.
I know why he’s here. It’s Thursday, so Colson will stay for about half an hour, sometimes longer, until he goes outside to man the front gate for the rest of the afternoon.
He leans back, loops his thumbs through the side straps of his vest, tilts his head, and settles his sights on Nate.
Unbothered.
I look at the coffee cup on my desk and press my lips together, trying to hide the smile creeping across my face, “Well, thanks for letting me know,” I flash my eyes at Nate and give a sideways glance to Colson.
He’s sitting perfectly still, staring daggers at Nate.
“Yeah, uh—” Nate’s watching Colson like he’s waiting for a bomb to go off, “anytime.”
I have no idea what’s going on, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not incredibly amused by how easy it is for Colson to turn overly-flirty Nate into a ball of nerves.
Nate glances at my door and tries to focus on me, “Do you want this open or closed?”
“Closed,” Colson’s deep voice slices through the tension hanging heavy in the room, this time giving me a start.
Nate searches me for confirmation, his expression more serious.
Boys and their fragile egos…
“Closed is fine,” I say gently and then flash him a sweet smile, “Don’t be a stranger.”
But he’s distracted. My eyes are locked on Nate’s, but his dart uncomfortably between me and Colson. Something tells me he won’t heed my invitation, not that I’m sad about it.
Before he pulls the door shut, Nate jerks his head up and his demeanor suddenly changes, “Oh,” he plasters a smile across his face, “and congratulations on setting a date.”
My stomach drops and my neck muscles tense, but I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because the way he says it feels like it was directed at Colson rather than me. Before I can respond, Nate is gone, disappearing out the door and taking all the air in the room with him.
After a few moments of overwhelming silence, I take a breath and cast a suspicious glance over my shoulder at Colson, “What did you do?”
Colson’s face softens, which makes me relax, “What makes you think I did something?”
I slide the coffee cup toward me and gingerly lift it to my nose, inhaling its sweet aroma, “Nate hasn’t come up here for months and that’s the quickest he’s ever left my office. I usually have to get up and go somewhere for him to leave. You did something, didn’t you?”
“Well, that hardly seems like a fair assumption,” he replies.
I shoot him a side-eye, “He tried to warn me about you.”
Colson reaches back and pulls his phone out of his back pocket, “Did he?”
“Don’t worry, I told him I already know you’re batshit.”
“Aw, thanks, baby,” Colson drawls, “doing my job for me.”
I give a scoff and turn back to my computer with a chuckle, “You’re sick.”
