The Sharpest Kiss by Elizabeth Myles (best e reader for epub txt) 📗

Lucy had stayed late to see if he’d ever come back out again, but he hadn’t. She’d eventually given up and gone home. This morning, his door had been standing open when she’d arrived. No sooner had she settled in at her desk, though, then it had slammed shut and he’d never reopened it. She couldn’t help wondering if he was having second thoughts about asking her out. Aaron had never struck her as the passive aggressive type, but why else would he be avoiding her now? Although it was possible he didn’t even remember calling her in the first place. Like Jessica had mentioned, he’d definitely sounded buzzed that night. Really buzzed.

Jessica:  I’ll say. What’re you going to do about it?

Lucy: Do?

While Lucy waited for Jessica’s reply, she swiveled her chair around and stared at Aaron’s door. He hadn’t stirred from his office all day. She hadn’t even heard him make a sound in there. He was probably still sick, she decided, and had maybe been sleeping it off on the couch he had in there, but…if he felt that bad, why had he even come into the office in the first place? He hardly ever took a day off, so he had plenty of sick leave available to him. Something bizarre was definitely going on. In fact, Lucy’s stomach had started to cramp with worry.

Jessica:  Well, you can’t just let him get away with this.You have to go in and talk to him. Find out what the deal is.

Lucy:  How?

Jessica:  What do you mean, how? Just go into his office and ask him WTH is going on. He owes you that much. Look, Luce, I’m sorry, but some customers just came into the store. I’ll have to talk to you later. LMK what happens, though. LYL!

Lucy set aside her phone. She chewed on her thumbnail. She knew Jessica was right, but the thought of barging into Aaron’s office and confronting him made her stomach tie up in knots. At the very least, she needed a plausible excuse to walk in on him.

Coffee, she decided. Aaron loved coffee. But not that sludge from the breakroom. Stuffing her phone back in her pocket and grabbing her wallet from her bag, she went down to the café on the second floor and paid for a pumpkin spice latté and an Americano. She headed back up the stairs, left the latté on her desk, and stood shifting her weight in front of Aaron’s door, stalling for another few seconds before she finally knocked.

“Aaron? It’s me. Can I come in for a minute?”

When he didn’t answer, she twisted the latch and peeked inside. The lights were all off, and shadows shrouded the room. The smell of sickness assaulted her nose, and she grimaced as she took a step back. It stank like someone had been retching into the garbage can. Clenching her jaw, she slipped inside, shutting the door behind her.

“Aaron? I brought you some coffee…” She trailed off, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she realized the office looked completely deserted. Huh. That didn’t make any sense. Unless he’d snuck out when she’d gone to get the coffee just now, she knew Aaron had to be in here somewhere. But he wasn’t at his desk, or in the chairs in front of it, or on the black leather sofa pushed up against the back wall. “Aaron?” She crossed the carpet to the big bay windows and started twisting open the blinds.

“Don’t,” a rusty voice croaked out at her. “Don’t do that. Just leave ’em closed.”

Lucy jumped and hurriedly closed the blinds again. With one hand pressed over her heart, she peered into the shadows but didn’t see anything. A shuffle sounded from somewhere near the desk. She crept over and stole a glance behind it.

“Oh,” she gasped, and set the Americano down on Aaron’s blotter. Because there he was:  her boss, huddling next to the filing cabinet with his legs curled against his chest and his head bowed. He looked miserable. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Are you still sick?”

“Don’t feel so good,” he murmured.

Lucy’s heart clenched. “Oh, you poor thing.” She knelt next to him, ducking her head to look into his face. A sour smell was wafting off him, but she ignored it and leaned in to get a better look at him. She brushed the hair back from his eyes. The strands felt thick and greasy, like he hadn’t washed his hair in days. He looked like he hadn’t changed his clothes, either. His tie was missing, and his dress shirt gaped open at the neck. The shirt was untucked and wrinkled, his pants a landscape of rumpled creases.

“Have you been sleeping in here?” she asked. “The past couple of days?” He didn’t answer. His forehead, when she laid her fingers against it, was ice cold. “Oh, you’re freezing!” she cried, drawing back in alarm. “Have you been to see a doctor?”

He straightened his head a fraction, leaning it against the desk. “Don’t want to go to the doctor,” he said plaintively, his voice sounding slightly slurred. “Pretty sure they can’t help me, anyway.”

She stared into his eyes, which looked darker in the shadows than usual. And there was something else there, too. Something familiar that churned Lucy’s gut. Her first year of college, she’d toyed with the idea of majoring in Social Work. She’d spent her first semester and a summer volunteering at a violence intervention center, filling out intake reports. She had seen things there she would never forget, including the haunted look in so many of the victims’ eyes. She saw that same abject shock in Aaron’s dilated pupils now, and anger roiled inside her at the thought that anyone might’ve hurt him.

“Aaron, what’s going on?” Given how her insides were quavering, she was impressed at how steady her voice sounded. “Did something happen to you?”

“I dunno.” He rubbed his face. “Not sure.”

“You can’t remember?”

“Not everything.”

“Well, then tell me what