I blinked stupidly, trying to ground myself. “Yeah, it just needs...”
“Manufacturer and origin information?” she replied, cutting me off.
What the fuck? “How did you know?” I asked.
“Because our program doesn’t pull it from the system. I run into it all the time. Drop it in a document and send it to my cell. I’ll start at the bottom filling stuff in, and you keep going. We’ll meet in the middle.” Her eyes drifted over to my desk, spying my laptop and smirking.
“It’s not as fun to do that kind of work there,” I muttered, our eyes locking as she looked back over. “And I’d much rather be eating something else at it than this.” I held up the bag, waving it.
She licked her lips, her tongue lingering a second too long to be appropriate. “If you’re lucky, you’ll do more than eat at your desk tonight.”
And man was I lucky.
Elena
There is no greater motivation to get out of bed in the morning than the Chicken Dance. No matter how late I was up or how many shot glasses I emptied, one plucky chord of the song had me out of bed in less than a second. Naturally, it was my alarm tone.
Like clockwork, the damn song kicked off into its joyous rut, and I scrambled to the dresser, grabbing my phone and silencing it before my ears bled.
My bedroom was still dark; one of the many signs it was too early to be up on a Saturday, a day meant for rest and relaxation. I stared at my phone in dismay, not entirely convinced it was six-thirty already.
Oddly enough, I agreed to the early start and set the fowl alarm the night before willingly. I should have fought for nine or ten, but no, I embraced a seven-thirty start time like it was nothing. Like I didn’t crawl into bed at two-thirty in the friggin morning.
Jason and I shared one of our new favorite activities together into the wee hours. We called it takeout and makeout, but it was a bit more x-rated than the name let on. Our one-date deal evolved into a mishmash of sporadic sex and dinner, but I wasn't complaining. He was cute and made great company, bursting the stress bubbles that riddled life.
On the way back to my apartment, he asked if I wanted to join him on his morning hike, and I agreed. I hadn’t been out on the trails in over a year, and I missed them.
I summoned the will to walk to the shower with one eye open, letting the steam fill the bathroom before hopping in, hoping the vapors would clear the early morning fog from my mind. They didn't, so I lathered up while still half-asleep, blinding myself with a shampoo slick twice by the time I was done.
I toweled my hair and brushed my teeth before hurrying to dress, throwing on black leggings, a tee, and sneakers, a pink fleece finishing things off. I ran back to the bathroom to blow dry my mane while dabbing on under-eye concealer to hide traces of exhaustion. Usually, dry shampoo would be a go-to, but functioning early required high-velocity water to the face.
I slapped on lip balm and a ridiculous swipe of mascara, unsure when I became the woman who put on makeup before working out. Then again, it wasn't every day I hiked with a hunk like Jason.
Once satisfied with damp hair, I plopped it in a loose topknot, bolting from the bathroom to do a quick once-over of the apartment. He likely wasn't coming in, but I wouldn’t risk exposing him to a potential depression nest situation.
Luckily there were no dishes to speak of, but there were random blankets and magazines strewn about, evidence of my totally exciting life. I got to work tidying, zooming around to straighten up.
Hank watched from atop his throne on the polka-dot armchair, letting out a timely meow at every pass, feeling a little neglected by my late night out.
“I know, buddy.” I rubbed his chin and dropped to a crouch. “Mama will spend all night cuddling your face off, I promise. You'll be fine to hold down the fort for a few hours.”
He purred up a storm, tilting his chin for more rubs.
I glanced over at the wall clock as I heard a knock at the door. Seven-thirty sharp.
Hank jumped in surprise and darted for the bedroom.
I grabbed my bag and keys, rushing to the door. Looking fresh off the cover of a fitness magazine stood Jason, dressed in a fitted gray tee and black athletic pants. He flashed a smile, something I couldn't muster so early.
“Good morning, beautiful.”
“Hey, you,” I croaked, sounding more frog-like than human.
“Tired?” he asked with a grin.
I nodded. “Mm. I was up a little late with a guy I know.”
It was an understatement. We enjoyed rounds two and three well past midnight. I was lucky I could walk.
“If you'd prefer to stay in, we can...” he trailed, eyeing me up and down.
As tempting as the offer was, my body needed time to recover. “Nope. We're going, buster.”
“Right this way, my lady.”
I let him lead the way down the narrow hall and stairs to his Range Rover. It was out of place in the modest apartment complex, sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of mid-level sedans.
We headed out of town, stopping to grab a breakfast of granola bars and coffee at a gas station west of the city. We chattered as the miles ticked by, teasing one another, poking and prodding. It was lighthearted for a change rather than the intensity I was accustomed to.
By the time we made it to the trail, my sides hurt from laughing.
It was an easy route, one I ran a few times for 5Ks when I first moved to
