After the Christmas Party

The thing about working in an open-plan office is that everyone sees everything. Every coffee break, every bathroom trip, every lingering glance at the woman in the design department who wore silk blouses and had the kind of smile that made you forget your own name.

Her name was Priya Sharma. She'd started three months ago, transferred from the Mumbai office, and within a week she'd become the subject of every water cooler conversation. Half the office was in love with her. The other half was jealous of her.

I was firmly in the first category.

She was beautiful in a way that seemed effortless, dark hair that fell in waves past her shoulders, warm brown skin, eyes that crinkled at the corners when she laughed. She wore gold jewelry that caught the light, and her accent made every word sound like poetry.

She was also completely, devastatingly straight. Or so I assumed.

Until the Christmas party.

* * *

The Company Christmas Party

The party was at some overpriced hotel downtown, with an open bar and a DJ who played exclusively songs from 2005. I'd been nursing the same glass of wine for an hour, watching my coworkers make fools of themselves on the dance floor, when Priya appeared beside me.

"You look like you're having the time of your life."

"Can't you tell? This is my excited face."

She laughed, that rich, warm sound I'd been dreaming about for months.

"Dance with me."

"What?"

"Dance with me. I'm bored, you're bored, and I refuse to let this terrible party defeat me."

"I don't really dance."

"Neither do I. That's what makes it fun."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor before I could protest. The DJ was playing something with a heavy beat, and Priya moved like she'd been lying about not knowing how to dance. Her hips swayed, her arms lifted, and she looked at me with an expression that made my stomach flip.

"You're staring."

"Sorry. I just, you're really good at this."

"I'm really good at a lot of things."

There was something

in her voice, something that sounded almost like flirtation. But that was impossible. This was Priya. Straight, beautiful, completely out of my league Priya.

The song changed to something slower, and suddenly she was closer, her body almost touching mine.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"I've been wanting to talk to you for months. But every time I try, you avoid me."

"I don't avoid you."

"You literally took the stairs yesterday because I was waiting for the elevator."

I had done that. I'd also changed my lunch break to avoid the break room when she was there. And switched my desk so I couldn't see hers through the glass partition.

"I'm awkward around people I... admire."

"Admire?"

"You're very good at your job."

"Is that the only reason?"

She was so close now that I could smell her perfume, jasmine and something warmer underneath. Her hand was on my waist, and we were barely moving, just swaying together while the music pulsed around us.

"No. That's not the only reason."