The Design(30)

Even without Grayson’s attention, I was enjoying the work. It felt oddly therapeutic to lay my hammer into the wall as hard as I could and then rip away entire sections of drywall in one go. There are only a few times in life when you’re given free rein to destroy something.

“Everything good in here?” Grayson asked at the doorway, propping his hands up onto the doorframe.

I nodded, preparing to sink my hammer into the wall again. He smiled at me with a twinkle in his eyes, probably because of how silly I looked with the face mask on. I was mid-swing when I caught sight of his dimple and completely lost track of what I was doing. My hammer made contact with the wall as well as the hidden reinforced beam that lay behind it. The shock of the hit ricocheted through the hammer and up my arm like a bolt of lightning.

“Motherf—”

I dropped the hammer and leaned forward, cradling my arm between my chest and thighs, willing the shock to dwindle away.

Grayson’s hand hit the small of my back and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. My brain wasn’t sure which sensation to concentrate on: the fact that my arm was about to fall off or the warmth radiating from his touch. Meh, you can regrow arms right? Let’s focus on Grayson.

“Damn, I bet that hurt,” he murmured, crouching down next to me. “Are you okay?”

I kept my eyes shut and nodded my head once.

“Yes, just embarrassed,” I offered through clenched teeth. Everyone knows to check the wall for studs—or random freaking support beams—before you lay a hammer into it. I appreciated the fact that Grayson didn’t try to correct me.

“You distracted me.” Good, put the blame on him.

He laughed under his breath and then he reached to tug my mask down off my mouth.

“Repeat that,” he said.

“You distracted me,” I repeated, not meeting his eye.

“Ah, sorry about that.” He reached for my shoulder and ran his hand gently down my arm. “Let me see your arm.”

My mother used to tell me that if I was ever experiencing pain I should touch or pinch another part of my body. It distracts the brain and tricks you into thinking the pain isn’t there anymore. When Grayson touched my arm, he didn’t just distract my brain, he hijacked it.

I let him take my arm in his hands and watched as he slowly lifted it to check for any injuries. He’d never touched me before, save for a random handshake. He had large hands that were worn from manual labor and I was enamored by the callouses on his palm. He spread his hand over my bicep and I stood stock-still, wishing he’d let his fingers trail to other areas of my body.

He studied me for a moment and then his lips spread into a private smile.

“Looks like we’ll have to amputate.”

“Ha ha, funny guy.”

I pulled my arm back out of his grasp, just in case he was serious about wanting to chop it off.

“Think you’re okay?” he asked, eyeing my arm.

I shrugged, the pain already lessening to a dull ache. “I guess I probably just need one of those cookies I saw on the table on the way in.”

He laughed and shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll show you the drafts for the design while you rest up, slugger.”

I followed him through the house and out toward the front porch where a small card table was set up as a makeshift desk. Grayson walked me through the design of the house and even listened to a few of my comments and critiques. He lit up when he was talking about the house and about the family that would live in it once it was complete. As he spoke, I studied his features one at a time: his lips as they curved up into a smile, the creases beside his eyes that formed as he pointed to his favorite elements of the design.

As I stood on that porch with him, I knew we were living in some kind of alternate universe. Nothing about the evening felt real, from the way we were dressed to the ease with which we were talking together, laughing and flipping through blueprints. Grayson’s guard was down for once and I couldn't help but yearn for just a few more moments, to reach out and pause the evening right there, just like that, forever.

…



The next morning I found myself at my desk twenty minutes early. I could hardly sleep thinking of my night with Grayson, how his hand had felt on my bare skin. I’d thrown off my blanket at 6:30 am, gone for a run (which ended up being a slow jog to the coffee and bagel stand at the end of my corner), showered, and gotten ready for work.

I was anxious to see him, to prove to myself that the night wasn’t a fantasy, but rather a turning point in our relationship. Finally at 8:00 am, the elevator doors slid open and Grayson stepped out wearing a crisp navy suit. Each step he took in his shiny brown shoes resonated around the room. I smiled wide, excitement brimming over as I tried to think of what I would say to him first. I’d thought about the house design as I was getting ready that morning and I couldn’t wait to tell him a few of my ideas.

I leaned back in my chair as he approached and smiled from ear to ear… but as he got closer, I realized he wasn’t slowing down. He wasn’t even going to glance down at me. He walked briskly by my desk and spoke directly to Beatrice.

“Have Nicole join me for lunch today and hold all my calls until the afternoon.”

I swiveled around to watch him step into his office and slam the door closed behind him. I stared at the wood, trying to comprehend how I could have been so off. My favorite pants and the extra coat of mascara I’d applied that morning were an absolute waste. Had I imagined the night before? Where was the guy that had joked about chopping my arm off?