Again, But Better

19. Heavy as the Setting Sun
It’s 12:16 p.m. when I step up to the door of 
Packed!.
My hair
is still wet, and I’m wearing minimal makeup. I’ve dressed in
the first suitable thing I could find in my closet: dark blue
jeans and a black T-shirt. I ran from the Covent Garden Tube
stop, so I’m sweating. I fly up the stairs and bust through the
office door as soon as Tracey buzzes me in. Tracy’s sitting
behind the desk, watching me.
“Tracey, hi!” I drop my hands to my hips, breathing
heavily.
“Hi.” She glances at her computer. “Are you okay? You’re
two hours and sixteen minutes late,” she says quietly.
“Yeah, Tracey, I’m so sorry. My alarm didn’t go off, and it
won’t happen again.” I take a few more heaving breaths.
“Okay.” She clicks a few things on her computer and turns
back to me. “You can sit over there.” She points to my old
station. The aged white MacBook is already sitting on the
table. “If you need any help, you can contact me via IM.” I
wring my hands in front of me, waiting for more, but she goes
back to her work.
“Um, okay, great, thank you!” I stammer. I swipe my wet
hair into a ponytail and sit in front of the laptop, still catching
my breath as I power it up. I wonder if Pilot got to work okay.
I pull the British phone from my purse to find a text
waiting.
Pilot: 
Hey, did you get to work okay?

---

Me: 
Yeah, I made it! I look like waterlogged newborn
baby, but I’m here.
Pilot: 
Trust me, you do not look like a newborn baby.
Waterlogged looks good on you. ;]
Me: 
Waterlogged looks great on you too
Pilot: 
Want to get waterlogged later?
Me: 
Lamppost down for waterlogged
Pilot: 
Waterlogged has lost meaning
I message Tracey three times throughout the day, asking if
she has any tasks, and eventually she sends me to the grocery
store for food and asks me to look up coatracks. Pilot and I
text all afternoon. By the end of the work day, I’m itching to
get back to him. When Tracey dismisses me at five, I
practically leap out of my seat. I beam the entire way home—I
think I left a trail of sunshine on the sidewalk.
Pilot sits against the far wall on the bed, and I sit perpendicular
to him on the adjacent wall with my legs draped over his lap.
My laptop is on my lap, and his laptop is balanced on my
shins. Atticus is out at his internship, so we have the room to
ourselves. We book train tickets to Edinburgh for Friday
afternoon after class, and a bed-and-breakfast for the weekend.
“Oh, man, look at this. They have famous ghost tours!”
Pilot exclaims.
“Ghost tours?”
“And famous cemeteries,” he continues.
“I’ve always dreamed of visiting a city famous for its
valleys full of corpses.” I swoon.
He grins, continuing his scroll through 
Packed! For
Travel!
’s top ten list of Edinburgh activities. “It’s going to be
an interesting trip.”

---

I go back to scrolling on my own computer. “Look at this.
They have a thing we can climb! A real nature thing!” I scoot
across the corner so we’re against the same wall, to show him
my computer screen. “Look, it’s called a crag, and we hike it
to Arthur’s Seat!” The pictures look beautiful.
“Whoa.” He leans in to see my screen. “We’re hittin’
Arthur’s Seat, for sure.”
“Fo sho,” I tease in a Chad-like voice.
I dress to the business-casual nines the next morning and
arrive to work ten minutes early in my best black pants and
black blazer with my hair done up in a bun.
“Morning, Tracey! Anything you want me to start with
today?” I ask. She hasn’t showed me the tea station.
“I might have some mail to be sent out later.”
“Okay, great … well, I’ll be over there whenever you need
me.”
My phone buzzes as I sit at my table.
Pilot: 
You were a vision in business casual when you
left this morning =]
Shane: 
LOL thanks … I didn’t see you this morning???
=
P
Pilot: 
If you’re within sight, Shane, I see you.
Shane: 
When was I within sight?
Pilot: 
Saw you walking from the kitchen to the stairs
on my way to breakfast.
Shane: 
You should have stopped me and said good
morning!
Pilot: 
Figured you were trying to get there early.
Shane: 
I was, but I’d have time for you.

---

I put down the phone, my skin tingling. I’ve started to
crave his touch in the same way I crave food or water. I look
up to see Wendy switching up the office music at one of the
editing bay computers. I haven’t had a chance to say anything
to her. My phone buzzes in my lap.
Pilot: 
Can I take you to dinner tonight at 6?
Shane: 
I already can’t wait.
Pilot keeps me entertained until 4:30 when Tracey finally
tells me she’s ready with the mail. I head up to her desk.
“Okay, here’s a bag of the mail. You can drop these off at
the post office and head home, or you can come back and stay.
We’ve got a potential sponsor coming in for a seven o’clock
meeting today if you want to stick around.”
“Thanks, Tracey! Um, I think I’m going to head home
because I have plans, but thanks! I’ll get these to the post
office stat!”

---