Meet Me at Midnight

By the time I get home from work, I feel like a robot.

Lunch with Avery felt next to impossible. Between pretending to be engaged in whatever she was talking about and trying not to internally drown in the guilt, I was a walking live wire of nerves when I made it back to the office. Avery peaced-out for the rest of the day in the name of getting a Brazilian.

And what I came back to at the Banks & McKenzie Marketing building wasn’t much better.

It’s a wonder we didn’t have to call the fire department or an ambulance with the way people were running around with their heads cut off, putting out fires. One campaign had issues with legal. Another campaign had last-minute edits on a commercial that is supposed to air during a celebrity awards show this weekend. And two other campaigns had other issues that I can’t even remember at this point.

Simply put, it was a shitshow. A perfect match to how I’m feeling on the inside.

I never messaged Beau back, pussy picture or otherwise, and now that I’ve had time to come down from the high, I’m not sure I should.

It’s one thing to be engaging in a harmless, flirty, anonymous conversation with a random man, but it’s a whole other thing when that random man is your best friend’s brother and no one but you knows what you’re doing.

Not only have I consciously withheld the truth from Beau, knowingly letting him wander down this wild path of innocent messages turning into something that’s laced with hot sexual tension and deep, meaningful conversations, but I’ve also lied to my best friend. Actively and repeatedly.

Keeping my crush to myself was fine, but now that I’m vigorously pursuing it? That’s a whole other level of deceit.

Nothing good can come of this, I’m sure of it, and I’ve got the gut-wrenching intuition that if I don’t end this now, I’ll regret it.

I promised myself I’d only lie to Avery one more time so that I could tell her I have a migraine, and she’d go out to Echo without me. All in the name of getting on Midnight and telling ThunderStruck goodbye for good.

Obviously, that’s what needs to happen here. I’ll carry the guilt and shame of where I let these conversations go, but I’ll carry them knowing I stopped it before anyone else but me gets hurt. That’s my burden to bear, and I take full accountability for that.

When I log on to Midnight, the last two messages ThunderStruck sent me taunt and tantalize just like before. But I inhale a deep breath and make myself do the right thing.

It takes me a good ten minutes to find my words, but eventually, I do.

ElizaBeth: I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. About how our chats are reckless for someone in your position in the company. And it made me realize that you’re right, Beau. We shouldn’t do this, you know? It’s not good for either of us.

ElizaBeth: Mixing business and personal lives generally doesn’t end anywhere good. It’s why most companies have an HR policy revolving around preventing employees from fraternizing. And even though Banks & McKenzie doesn’t have that kind of policy, I think we need to end this, whatever this is, that’s happening inside these chats. I’m sorry, but yeah, I think this needs to be goodbye.

When I hit send on my final message, I feel like a total asshole for feeling sad, but it is what it is. Not a single ounce of relief comes from sending him those words, even when I know in my conscience it should.

Get over it, I tell myself. It’s the only option.

But because I’m a masochist, I look at the messages one more time, even scroll through all the previous messages before, reminiscing over all the things we’ve shared with each other. All the playful, flirty things that’ve been said.

My finger hovers over the big red X that sits in the upper right corner of the screen that’ll end this chat for good. Just one tap of the screen and it will scrub the hours spent inside from my phone and my life forever.

But before I can muster the courage to do it, ThunderStruck has reentered the chat populates on the screen. I almost click out before he can say anything, but as it turns out, I’m not strong enough.

ThunderStruck: I think you’re wrong.

I stare at his words for what feels like forever. The only thing that pulls me out of my daze is the message that appears below them.

ThunderStruck: The risk is worth the reward. I know how you make me feel. I know that when I wake up, you’ve become one of the first things I think about. And when I go to bed, you’re one of my last thoughts, too. I spend an insane amount of my day excited to read a new message from you, and I’ve spent twenty-eight years without anything close to that. I refuse to say goodbye without giving this a fair shot. Why won’t you?

Tears hit my eyes as I force my fingers over the keyboard.

ElizaBeth: I don’t know. It’s just more complicated than you can even imagine.

ThunderStruck: Fuck complicated, ElizaBeth. I think we’re playing with soul-deep.

A soul-deep connection. Between me and Beau. The thing I’ve been dreaming about for over a decade. Freaking hell, if that doesn’t strike a nerve.

ThunderStruck: But how can we know if we don’t take the leap? I think we need to meet. I think you need to stop being scared and finally show me who you are. We need to give this thing a real shot.

When I don’t respond, he sends another message.

ThunderStruck: Please. I need to meet you. It feels like you could be the woman I’m supposed to fall for. There’s something here. And I don’t want to let it go.

His words are everything I’ve ever hoped and wished and dreamed that I’d hear Beau Banks say. And they’re my final undoing. They make it impossible for me to deny what I want the most in this world, consequences be damned. I have to let myself have this. If I don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering.

ElizaBeth: Okay. Let’s meet. But it needs to be somewhere outside of the office, and I need to be sure no one else will be there.

ThunderStruck: How about the gym in my building? Tomorrow. At midnight. Seems appropriate, doesn’t it? And I’m pretty confident it’ll be desolate, too. I can send you the address.

Considering the gym in his building is also the gym in my building, it doesn’t feel as risky as a club or bar. It feels…about as safe as I can get. Well, as long as I can make sure Avery isn’t there.

ElizaBeth: Okay.

This is really happening. My fairy-tale messages with Beau are coming to a close. But Cinderella has one up on me this time.

I have no idea if my ending will be happy or not.