Single malt, on the rocks, for you. A lemon drop martini for me. And a conversation I was very surprised to have.
You said the small things were what did it for you. The way I leaned back against the desk while you were checking emails. How I tuck my hair behind my ear while I talk. The look I give you when I'm challenging what you've said, the way I say "Really?" and raise my eyebrow. The joking conversation we had before harassment training, and how you sat on the other side of the room not because you didn't enjoy being near me, but rather that you may enjoy it too much. The feisty attitude when I pretend to scold you for something.
You say that Dan and Isaac notice some of the same things. That when the door to your shared office is closed, the conversation inside is less about marketing than it is about the cut of my suit and height of my heels.
I haven't seen you since I left for my hotel room that night, and I don't know whether what you said in the small hours of morning will hold up under the fluorescent lights of the office, whether coffee would encourage you the same way Glenlivit did. But our glances and smirks have just taken on a whole new meaning.