The Package by K. Bromberg

Author:K. Bromberg [Bromberg, K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JKB Publishing, LLC

3

Jules

The elevator jolts and our hands pull away and before I can think—before I even realize I just want him, the executive from the upper floors, to kiss me—the doors ding open.

I gulp in the cool air of the lobby as I turn my back to him momentarily and brace my hands on the railing to catch my breath. To find some sense of sanity that I seem to have lost from the lack of oxygen in the elevator car.

There is shuffling at my back as voices near us.

“Sorry about that, Mr.—”

“Jules,” Mr. Flannel Shirt says, interrupting the maintenance worker I sense standing there. I shrug into my jacket and turn to face him. “Here are your packages.” He places them in my arms.

“Thanks.”

“The least I can do is help you deliver them.”

“No. I’m fine.” I shake my head suddenly unsteady and on unsure footing. I grab the packages tighter as if they’ll ground me. “I’ve got them.”

“You sure? I know I’m Floor Fifteen, but I have no problem helping.” He smiles softly at his joke but it’s almost as if with the doors open and the real world back around us, the gap between us is that much greater.

“I’m sure.” The sooner I’m away from this—from him, from this building, from this damn day—the better. “Thanks. Thank you.” I start to walk and he steps in front of me.

“Wait.” He reaches out and puts my reindeer antlers on my head, his fingers lingering as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “There. Now, you’re ready to go.”

The lopsided smile he gives me has things stirring in me that shouldn’t stir. Has parts aching in me that shouldn’t be aching.

I struggle with the need to go and the want to stay. “Um—packages. You’ve got yours?”

“Right here,” he says and tucks his package under his arm before reaching out and placing a hand on my biceps. “Jules—”

“Thanks for trying to make me laugh,” I say startled by his touch and the sudden want for more of it. “For trying to make me feel better. I . . .”

“After all that, you still hate Red Vines though. It’s a pity.”

His line works. I smile softly. “And you won’t try Twizzlers.” I take a step back to gain some distance. “Merry Christmas.” I give a nod before walking off the elevator and away from him.

“Merry Christmas, Jules.”

His voice carries after me and it takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to turn back and look at him.

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