You Make Me Feel

Adam showed up earlier than planned and immediately noticed that the park shelter was nowhere near ready for the company picnic. Boxes sat half-open, paper streamers drooped, and folding tables leaned unsteadily on the low-cut grass. Only a few people were there, setting up the scene.

Executives and scattered managers were across the shelter like generals before a battle. Jim, tall and heavyset, was pointing with two fingers as if he were giving stage directions. A clipboard dangled in his other hand. Nate, younger and louder, wore his polo like it was a uniform and moved through the group as if everyone was waiting for him to deliver a punch line.

“Chairs over here—no, not like that, angle them so we don’t block the grills,” Jim called, his voice carrying. A couple of HR personnel scrambled to drag folding chairs into neat rows.

Adam stood at the edge, the soles of his shoes grinding slightly against the gravel as he shifted his weight. He took in the scene before him, feeling a twinge of uncertainty about whether he should just keep walking until he found a safe corner. He wasn't on the setup team; nobody had asked him to come early. Yet watching others struggle with boxes of paper plates while he stood there with his hands in his pockets felt wrong. His breath caught for a moment before he released it in a deep exhale, stepping forward to join the group.

“Hey—new guy.” Nate spotted him, grinning like he’d been given material for a joke. “Look at this. Early, too. New guy enthusiasm!”

A few of the others chuckled politely.

Adam smiled, said nothing, and stepped forward. Nate slapped Adam on the back, pointing across to a neat row of picnic tables under some trees. A woman Adam recognized was lugging one of the boxes to the gazebo.

“I think Vanessa needs some help,” Nate offered, “Would you mind?”

Adam nodded with a smile, “Yeah, no problem.”

“That’s my guy!” Nate said, already walking away.

Vanessa looked up and smiled as Adam approached.

“Here,” Vanessa said, already crouched beside a box of decorations, pulling out sagging strings of tissue-paper pom-poms. “Could you grab the other end?”

Her voice was warm, and he moved immediately to help her untangle the length of flimsy paper. While Nate kept circling the groups with commentary of varying usefulness, Vanessa anchored one end to the shelter beam, and Adam stretched the other end across, tying it off as best he could.

“Perfect,” she said, brushing her hands together. Her dark blouse was already dusty at the sleeves, and a strand of hair had slipped loose across her cheek. She tucked it back quickly, then bent to haul up another box.

Adam followed her lead without being asked. He carried plates, shifted coolers, and lined up condiments while Jim supervised from his clipboard. Adam kept reminding himself that he needed this probation period to end successfully—staying on good terms was essential. Every now and then, Nate passed by with a quip, 'Careful there, don't strain yourself,' or 'Someone’s trying for a raise!' Adam only smiled and kept moving. He hadn't fully grown used to the idea of ribbing his superior back. At least not yet.

He also hadn’t noticed when Vanessa glanced at him more than once—when he lifted the heavier cooler without complaint, or when he knelt to adjust a crooked table leg instead of waiting for someone else to fix it. Adam was quiet, quick to nod, unbothered by being overlooked.

More people from the company trickled in as the setup continued. Most simply dropped off the food they’d brought on the folding tables and immediately began to socialize.

By the time the picnic actually started, the shelter looked festive enough. The pom-poms sagged a little, the chairs weren’t quite straight, but no one cared. People were laughing, opening sodas, piling the readymade food onto paper plates. The leadership clustered together under the gazebo, talking as if the day were a meeting with better lighting.

Adam ended up at one of the old wooden park tables on the periphery, his soda already going warm in the sun. Vanessa drifted over too, easing into the seat across from him after she had finished a quick conversation with Nate. The bustle of the group shifted gradually, coworkers peeling away into smaller clusters—toward Nate’s orbit, toward the louder voices and stories.

Soon it was just the two of them left at the table, half-empty cans between them.

“Thanks for helping set everything up,” Vanessa said, her voice more relaxed now.

Adam smiled, shrugging like it was nothing. “Happy to help. Showed up early anyway—didn’t feel right just sitting in the car while everyone else did the work.”

“Still,” Vanessa said, her smile lingering. “I really do appreciate it.”

Adam shifted in his seat, lifting his soda. “Any time,” he started, looking at her, “You make me feel appreciated,” he added, wanting to be polite.

Vanessa’s smile flickered, becoming smaller, more thoughtful. Her eyes lingered on him, sweeping once over his shoulders before settling back on his face. She leaned in just a little, unintentionally.

"You make me feel like a woman," she said quietly.

The words caught Adam mid-sip. His hand froze, the can hovering near his lips. He blinked at her, throat tightening on nothing. For a moment, the noise of the picnic blurred into background static.

Vanessa’s eyes widened, and her stomach sank. She suddenly realized she’d spoken the words out loud, not just in her head. Embarrassment washed over her.

“What?” Adam’s voice was hushed, not defensive—just startled, almost disbelieving.

Color flushed across Vanessa’s cheeks. She pushed against the bench, half-rising, her eyes darting to the cluster of coworkers down by the grills. “I-uh...” she stammered, trying to figure out why in the world she had said what she had aloud. “Don’t mind me,” she finally murmured, wishing she could stuff the words back down.

Adam straightened too, the soda forgotten. “No, wait.” He leaned forward, intent, his voice low. “What did you mean by that?”

Vanessa hesitated, her weight suspended between standing and sitting. She inhaled, slowly, and lowered herself back onto the bench. Her smile returned—nervous, thin—but steadier than before.

Adam looked at her intently as Vanessa glanced around them. She exhaled a bit, relieved that no one else had been within earshot. She closed her eyes for a few seconds, a hand going to her head, doing her best to gather what courage she had. She opened them again and saw Adam still across from her with the same look of delighted disbelief. Swallowing, she decided to go all in.

“I meant exactly what I said.” She dropped her eyes to the table, scanning the carved initials and weathered grooves. “You make me feel like a woman.”

Adam considered her words, feeling the air shift between them. She was no longer just the finance manager on the tenth floor; she was a person seeking an unexpected connection. A woman who felt more so by his presence. A thrill went through him at the thought.

Adam’s shoulders drew back, chest broadening as if he’d been handed something fragile and didn’t quite know how to hold it. A startled laugh escaped him, incredulous but warm. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anybody say something like that before.”

Vanessa’s gaze lifted again, steadier now. A small, wry smile tugged at her lips. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned closer, closing the gap an inch more. “Well, it’s true. You do.”

Adam pushed his soda aside and angled toward her, still a little unsteady. Questions turned in his head as he sat. One formed fully and rose to the surface. “And how exactly do I do that?” His voice was careful, caught between curiosity and hope.

Vanessa traced a line through the condensation his can had left on the table with her fingertip. Her shoulders rose, then fell in a half-shrug. “Whenever you’re around—whenever you come up to the tenth floor offices—I notice myself more.” She glanced away, looking into the park beyond the picnic, and went on. “How I’m sitting. What I sound like when I’m talking. What I look like when you see me.”

Her finger stilled. She tilted her head, her voice softening to something almost private. “How I want you to see me.”

Adam’s smile gentled, his eyes locked on hers. For a long moment, he only looked, as if weighing the truth in her face.

“I didn’t realize I made you feel that way,” he said finally, his voice low.

“You do,” she answered, her expression breaking into something brighter, fuller.

He let the silence stretch, then asked, “How long?”

She smirked faintly and glanced aside. “A little over three months.”

Adam’s laugh came out quietly, shaking his head. “I’ve only been here four.”

“I know.” She said softly.

They both laughed, the tension spilling over. Across the table, a napkin caught the breeze, lifting gently before swirling to the ground unnoticed. The air was different now, filled with a possibility that hadn’t been there minutes ago. Their laughter faded, leaving behind a charge that seemed to hum in the silence.

Adam combed through his memories, thinking of all the times he had reason to go upstairs to where Vanessa worked. The exchanges they had were always business-focused. Professional, cordial. Yet now with Vanessa’s admission, they were colored differently in his mind. She had always smiled. Always stopped what she was working on to listen to him. To talk to him. He warmed inside at the discovery.

Suddenly, unbidden, a new thought came to him.

Adam’s gaze drifted toward the larger crowd where Nate was holding court, arms wide, laughter booming. He nodded toward him. “I always figured Nate…” He hesitated. “Nate is always talking to you.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, grinning, and shook her head. “Nate talks to everyone." Adam turned back to her. "He likes to cast a wide net. We’ll just put it that way.”

“Oh.” his voice was quieter, almost tentative. “I see.”

Her smile softened, the teasing gone. She studied him for a long second, then asked, almost in a whisper, “Well then… what do you think?”

Adam straightened, squaring his shoulders. His smile widened into certainty. He watched Vanessa for a long moment, his mind scrambling for anything he could say in response to her question. His mind was failing him as his heart thudded in his chest. Then, something slipped into his thoughts. His reason gave way to feeling as he went all in.

“I think you make me feel like a man," Adam said, his thoughts briefly flashing back to the moment he moved the coolers at Vanessa’s request. There was something grounding about that action. Something that anchored him as he felt now, more centered and sure. Her words made him feel similarly, balanced in a way that resonated deeply.

Relief broke across Vanessa’s face in a breath. She laughed softly, shaking her head, and he joined her—both of them caught in the same current, no longer unsure but swept forward together.

Vanessa leaned in, her eyes bright. “Do you want to get something to eat?”

Adam looked toward the grills, where smoke had just begun to curl up in thin gray ribbons. A couple of managers were fussing with the charcoal, the fire catching slowly. “Burgers might be ready in an hour,” he said.

She shook her head, smiling as if he’d missed the point. “Not here. Somewhere else.”

His grin spread, boyish and unguarded. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He looked over again, back at the crowd. Clusters of coworkers scattered under the gazebo, the executives standing in their polos, pretending this was anything but a workday. He turned to her again. “But I think they want us to stick around. Jim said there was going to be an announcement.”

“Martha’s retiring,” Vanessa replied immediately.

Adam arched a brow. “That’s it?”

She nodded. “That’s it.”

He leaned closer, his voice low. “They’re not going to care if we leave?”

She gave a short laugh. “You really think anyone’s going to get upset about us skipping a voluntary company picnic? On a Saturday?”

Adam chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know what they’d even have to be angry about.” He paused, caught himself, then added more softly, “So… where do you want to go?”

Vanessa tilted her head, studying him for a beat. Then she smiled, a warm and certain expression. “I don’t care.”

“Me neither,” Adam said quickly, shifting on the bench, already half-rising.

They both stood, the creaking of the wooden bench lost under the laughter and chatter from the gazebo. For a moment, they just looked at each other— exhilarated, charged in a way that had nothing to do with the picnic.

Then, without a word, they turned together and walked toward the parking lot. As their steps moved them away from the picnic, the crunch of gravel underfoot provided a rhythmic backdrop to their silent understanding. The smoky scent from the grills lingered in the air, clinging faintly to their clothes, leaving a trace of the moment behind.

They exchanged a glance, the silence between them louder than the people behind them. In that moment, through the other, each felt unmistakably more themselves.