“I need someone to stay an hour late with me after close, so I can hop on that conference call,” Glenn announced to the floor at large Friday morning before open. I saw everyone avoid looking in his direction – technically, it wasn’t any hardship. This happened pretty frequently – no one was allowed to be in the building alone, so about once a month we had to buddy up one hour late, or open an hour early. You got paid for the extra time and whoever wasn’t actually on the call could do as they pleased.
“Come on, guys. It’ll be OT, and we’re heading down into the weekend anyway”. I sketched two fingers in the air in a salute; I didn’t trust my voice not to squeak or my arm not to tremble if I raised it. Pointy teeth flashed from across the floor, and a double thumbs up. “Thank you, someone wants to get paid.” My skin felt chilled like I had stepped into a freezer. Once again that not-knowing of what I wanted made my heart feel as if it leapt back and forth from one side to the other of my ribcage. Did I just want to watch him from yards away on his phone, while I read my book under my desk, or my romance novels on my phone? Did I want him to pounce as soon as we locked the door on everyone else? The problem was the fear sat side by side with the desire and I did not enjoy that uncertainty. I didn’t like that he could have that affect on me.