The Trouble With Loving You (Moving to Galatea)

“Bro, did you see the new PR girl?” Michael asked as he sidled up to me where I stood in front of the copier machine.

“No, why?” I asked.

“She’s hot.” Michael paused when I didn't react. “Miles. Miles. Look at me.”

I sighed, dramatically swinging my head to my coworker and gave him a deadpan stare. “Okay, what?”

Michael made his brown eyes go big, a faint smirk on his face. “She’s hot. Like… 'I bet she’s got an Only Fans' kinda hot.”

“If she had an Only Fans, I don’t think she’d be working for a financial firm,” I muttered, looking back at the progress screen.

“What’s up with you today? Did Greg finally tell you you’re no longer the ray of light that shines out his butt?”

“No.”

“Did you get dumped? Someone die?”

“No.”

“Well, what’s wrong with you, then? Why aren’t you happy for me? I’ve been looking for a rebound since Brandy for like a month now. And here’s my pot of gold!”

I didn’t know if that was a straight metaphor or a sexual one, but I made a grossed out face regardless. “Buddy… you’re both working in PR, you realize that, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So... if you sleep with her and then dump her after a week-- you’re gonna be stuck working with her.”

Michael stared at me, leaning a hand on the copier machine. “I’m not seeing the problem here.”

“It’ll be awkward!”

“So? Dude, are you seriously trying to shame me right now?” Michael pressed a hand over his chest, looking ready to clutch imaginary pearls.

That absolutely wasn’t what I was doing.

I was stressed. I had a massive merger meeting right now that our boss, Greg, had put me in charge of. Said PR woman that our PR man Michael wanted to sleep with was far beneath my list of things to care about at the moment.

My head drooped a moment, then shot back up with a forced grin. “Look, sure, go for it. I’ll be your wing man, whatever you need. But just promise me something first.” I turned and grasped Michael by the shoulders just as the copier machine whirred and beeped.

“Looks like you’re out of paper,” Michael began, as if he hadn't been the one to distract me from making copies in the first place. He was like a golden retriever-- it was difficult to keep his attention for long.

But when I’d moved back to St. Louis for this job, Michael was the first to reach out to me. We had drinks and hung out fairly regularly outside of work. He was easy to be friends with.

Michael loved to work out and played a lot of frisbee golf at the park. Could knock out a box of White Claws by himself and probably owned every single polo shirt from Nordstrom. But he was good at his job... you know, when he could pay attention.

And if there was some girl keeping him distracted? That wasn’t good for me or this meeting.

The merger wasn't completely finalized. We were almost at the finish line, and this had been months in the making. Months! I wasn’t about to let Michael screw this up.

I took in a calming breath, squeezing his shoulders. "Look at me, bud."

“Okay. What?”

“Let’s get this meeting done first. Please.” I smiled at him, hopeful. “Yeah?”

Michael almost smiled, but it faded as he gave me a once over. “...Is that a new suit?”

“Yeah, why? What’s wrong with it?” I glanced down at myself, running a self-conscious hand over the dark blue material. I’d bought it for this exact damn meeting.

Michael tucked his tongue against his cheek and gave me another disapproving shake of his head. “You’re too hot. You’re gonna screw up my chances with this girl. It’s like The Office, you know? I’m Roy and you’re Jim. Of course she’s gonna pick you.”

“What?” I threw my hands out, tempted to make a throttling gesture at his neck. “Mike, you promised you would focus!”

“I am!” He leaned an elbow back against the copier machine and watched me tear open a new ream of white paper. I swore when I gave myself a paper cut and brought it to my mouth while I kicked the tray closed and pushed the big green START button. To my relief, the usually finicky copier started up again without trouble.

“You’re just too…” Michael made a circular motion in my direction as I glared at him. “Too put together. Like you’re in an ad or something. It’s gonna throw her off.”

What was she, a dog? My brow furrowed as I stared at him. “You’re really overthinking this. I just want this meeting to go well. Really. It’s all I want. I'm not trying to take your rebound away.”

"Fine. Meeting first, then hot girl."

We were about thirty minutes out when I couldn’t handle being away from the conference room any longer. One of Greg’s assistants had already turned on the lights and set up water pitchers with slices of lemon in them-- nice touch-- and laid out pens. Michael thought a swag bag would be good for the on-boarding team, so they all had totes sitting in their assigned seats.

I fiddled with the projector, adjusting the lighting and contrast for the twentieth time when I heard my boss’s laughter down the halls. A woman’s laugh echoed after, it grew closer until Greg was standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, grinning wide at me.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you, prodigal son.” That was a… sort of cutesy nickname he’d come up with for me in the past few months. Greg had taken me under his wing from the first day I’d come to work at the consulting firm.

And while it made me nervous that he’d put me on a pedestal, it also… honestly, felt really nice to be appreciated. To know I was good at something.

“This is Addison Myers, she's the head of Public Relations at Blueprint. I figured you two could link up a little, since she’ll be overseeing her people getting on-boarded here–” Greg paused.

It didn't matter, either way. I'd stopped listening after the name.

Addison Myers. Addison effing Myers.

I knew her.

In high school, she and a pack of friends had been a constant nightmare I never could wake up from. A bully, a tormentor, a relentless taunter. The bane of my existence.

And now she was standing right in front of me, smiling with all her straight pristine teeth, her perfectly curled hair, her bright baby blue eyes– holding her hand out.

“Hi! Oh, wow, you’re really tall." She paused to laugh. “It's nice to meet you. Everyone calls me Addie, by the way.”

I guffawed, looking from her hand to her face. Then back to her hand, almost reeling back in disgust.

She didn’t remember me. Of course she didn’t remember me.

Greg seemed to notice something was off, and cleared his throat. “And... Addison, this is Miles Green. He’s been a damned powerhouse getting this merger going. One of our best consultants.”

Addison’s hand still hung in mid-air, but then slowly dropped to her side when she realized I wasn't going to shake it.

Professional hag that she was, she seemed to glide right through the awkwardness, looking around the room.

“This building is fancy,” she said to Greg, clutching into a clipboard resting against her chest as she paced around the table. I was still gawking as she paused to admire the large, neutral abstract paintings on the wall. “Our old building hadn’t been updated since like… the seventies, I think?” Addison laughed and Greg made a joke about his age, something about being born in the seventies and being vintage.

After they both stopped laughing, I'd been given enough time to close my gaping mouth and restart my brain.

“S-sorry,” I managed, hating that my stutter was coming out, and blinked several times. “Got lost in my thoughts for a second. Just um… yeah. Sorry. Addison, it’s great to meet you,” I said, gesturing to her. I cringed at myself, awkwardly stuffing my hands into my pockets when I realized that looked strange.

Greg gave me a perplexed look for a split second, then turned to Addison. “He’s been working on this presentation for a long time, I think he might be getting in the zone,” he explained with a chuckle. “Have you met Michael yet?”

“Oh, the other PR guy?” she asked and smiled. “Yeah, I did, just a few minutes ago. He seems really nice.”

Greg’s phone began to ring and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Ah! Your boss-man. I gotta take this, kids. I’ll be back.” Greg stepped out of the room and one of my worst freaking nightmares stood right in front of me. The impulse to saunter away from her was overwhelming.

I might as well have been seventeen years old again, cowering in a damned bathroom stall.

“How long have you been working for Summit?” she asked me.

Like you give a crap, I thought.

I grit my teeth, but told myself to force a smile. “Almost two years.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” She grinned at me, and I’d noticed with this second pass-over that she was wearing a dark green dress that fell to her ankles, brown boots, and a full face of make-up. Heavy eyelashes, a raspberry colored lipstick. She was… well, beautiful. But she’d always been beautiful, in a fake sort of way. In high school, her hair had been bleached blonde back then, but I found that the dark brunette color suited her more.

God, the pretty girls always got away with being the nastiest people, didn’t they?

“Are you from St. Louis?” she asked. I nodded, still blown away that this woman must have terrorized so many people in her life that she couldn’t even be bothered to remember them over ten years later.

“Me, too! Yeah, I moved back to St. Louis after being away for a couple of years.” She looked out the window thoughtfully. “Hoping I can start fresh, the last time was kind of horrible.”

My brow dropped at that. Oh, was there trouble in paradise for a bully?

How very sad.

I played an imaginary tiny violin in my head while she continued to stare out the window, moving closer to it.

“Hey! You can kinda see the Gateway Arch from here,” she said aloud, pointing. “Did you know that?” Her eyes were bright as she looked at me, an infectious grin on her face. She was still pointing at the window as the smile died, and then her hand dropped.

“Oh… yeah, you probably knew that, huh? You’ve been here a while.” She laughed sheepishly at herself, but I didn't react at all.

Saying nothing made me feel like a jerk. But... she didn't deserve a nice reaction from me.

“What high school did you go to?” I asked.

Addison lifted her eyebrows at me, smiling again– pleased that I was engaging with her. “Hoover High, it’s like twenty minutes north of here. It was, um… okay, I guess.” She laughed, then sobered as she gave me an appreciative once-over. “But that’s public school.I’m sure you went somewhere fancier than that.”

“Nope.” I gave her a tight smile as I dropped the stack of stapled papers onto the conference table and then headed for the door.