Cleaning Up Bottles With You on New Year's Day

Callie made her way on quiet feet through the living room, picking up stray bottles and stepping over friends and strangers who’d found odd places to sleep. One hung halfway off the arm of the couch, feet on the ground and head on a pillow on the sofa seat. Two were leaned against each other in the middle of the room, somehow sleeping sitting back to back. And there, just before the doorway to the kitchen, was Graham. Back on the ground, feet on the wall, hands behind his head. Except he wasn’t asleep, his eyes were on her.

She stopped and looked at him in return. He’d been doing that a lot lately, just looking at her. She’d caught him at it several times over the last few months. Across the cafeteria at work. In the lab when he should have had his eye on a microscope. When she came through the door in the mornings, running late as always. It was as if he’d developed the ability to track her. He always seemed to know where she was or where she would appear at any given moment. The difference between those looks and this one, however, was that he normally looked away. Those gazes had always been furtive, ending just as she became cognizant of them. Something was different today.

The sun was just beginning to rise through the eastern window high above his head. As she stared back at him, she examined his features in the gray morning light. His dark hair looked ridiculous in this position. It was so floppy, always falling into his eyes. She’d told him a hundred times that a scientist in need of a haircut was a hazard. What if he forgot and brushed it back one day when he had a chemical on his gloves? When she noticed it in his eyes she’d pull one of her own headbands out of her bag and smooth it back for him, shaking her head.

Now, it was flopped above his head and sprawled on the ground. He watched her watching him and a slow smile spread across his face as he realized what she frowning over. “Come on, it’s cool, Cal!” he whispered. “Admit you like it, just a little bit.” Callie rolled her eyes and stepped through to the kitchen. She emptied her arms of bottles as gently as she could onto the countertop. She was arranging them into standing position when she realized he was behind her. “Callie,” he whispered. She paused mid motion, one hand still on the neck of a bottle and the other on the counter’s edge. He reached around her, setting another empty bottle next to the ones she’d collected. “Come on, talk to me. Please?”

Callie closed her eyes for one bracing moment, then turned to face him and leaned her hips against the counter. “Graham.” She shook her head, not looking at him. He reached his hand up slowly, waiting for her to stop him, and when she didn’t, brushed her hair behind her ear. “I’ve been thinking about New Year’s resolutions, you know?” 

She huffed a laugh. “Yeah? And what does Dr. Latham need to improve on in the new year?” She cocked a brow, “Looking to take my job?” 

He grinned, “Not a chance, Dr. Micholls. I’m not really cut out for a supervisory role. Think I’ll leave that to you.” 

“What then?” She was truly curious now. What could he want if he didn’t feel the need to move up the ladder? He was in excellent shape. She knew he ran every morning before work. Weirdo didn’t even need coffee to get going every day, like she and all other normal people did. He couldn’t want to read more. She followed him on Goodreads, and he was not only constantly reading research texts, like she did for work, but also kept up a steady stream of those nerdy fantasy books he was always going on about. Maybe he wanted to visit family more? His parents were all the way out in Alabama so he didn’t get a chance to go there much; flights from California were no small thing. So what?

“Well. You see there’s this woman I’ve been love with for about a year now.” Her eyes jolted up to his at that and she could feel her face going red. “Can you believe that?” he went on, “A whole year. Wasted. Just pining away for her like some sop in a romance movie.” She laughed, again. Geez, how did he always make her laugh? “And the thing is, I’m pretty sure she knows I’m in love with her, too. She catches me staring, like, all the time. It would be embarrassing, really, except that I keep hoping maybe she’ll get tired of all the staring and decide to talk to me about it.” 

“Graham,” she half-heartedly tried to stop him again.

“See we talked about it once. Sort of. I asked her out on a date a little after we met, but she told me flat out, no. Said she couldn’t date someone who worked under her. Wouldn’t be professional. And I totally get that. It makes sense, really. So I put the idea aside and went along just fine for a couple months. But there was a problem.” 

Her mouth quirked up, “Oh?” 

“Oh, yes.” He leaned closer, putting his hands on either side of her on the counter. “You see this woman has this adorable little habit of running into work every morning, just skirting the line on tardiness. Coffee in hand, hair on top of her head in one of those messy bun things girls do, no makeup on. She goes straight to her office and shuts the door. When she comes out again, she looks like a corporate lab princess. Hair fixed, makeup on, coffee out of sight. And it drives me absolutely insane.”

“What? My terrible morning work habits are driving you insane? Is there a point to trying to make me feel guilty, here? I work late all the time, you know!” 

“No, ma’am.” He said slowly, shaking his head. Every so often that little Alabama drawl of his would make an appearance. This was one of those times. It caused a shiver run down her spine. “I love this routine of hers. What’s driving me crazy, is I don’t get to watch. She goes behind that fancy office door of hers and gets all dolled up every morning, and I have to stay outside in the lab wondering what she looks like brushing her hair and putting that makeup on. I can’t stop imagining it either. I keep coming up with these fantasies where I’m…” he trailed off. 

She looked up at him and asked, “Where you’re what?” in a small voice.

He swallowed before continuing. “Where this woman is my wife and I get to make her coffee for her in the morning so she’s not in a hurry and I get to watch her get ready and I get to give her a kiss before she goes off to conquer the world every day. Fantasies like that.” 

“Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say to that declaration. 

“Yup,” was his reply. 

“So then…” now it was her turn to swallow, “what are you going to do about it? What’s your resolution?”

“New Year’s resolution might not be exactly the right word for it,” he said, “considering I already started on a big part of it. You see, I figured I needed to decide whether pursuing this woman was more important than keeping my job or not, since that what’s she told me the barrier is. I’m really hoping that was true, by the way,” he stood away from her again, “and not just a polite refusal.” He waited. 

“It wasn’t that,” she answered quietly. 

“Good. That’s good.” He nodded, letting out a breath. “I thought about it for awhile. It’s a good job. I enjoy it. I make good money. I’d be happy to stay there for a long time, maybe even until I retire. But this woman…” He ran a hand through his messy waves. “She’s not the kind of woman you let get away if there’s any way you can help it.”

Callie’s stomach swooped in a way that was entirely unfamiliar and she sucked in a small shocked breath. It was the kind of thing men said in books, not in shadowy kitchens at 7:30am after a party. He was looking at her like, well he was looking at her the same way he had been for weeks now, only suddenly she understood what it meant. It wasn’t just interest, or flirting, or even curiosity. This man. This gorgeous, ridiculous, hobbit loving, floppy haired man… was in love with her. And it felt… good. “Graham,” she leaned towards him a bit. 

“So I decided,” he went on, caging her with his arms once more, “that I’d better figure out a way to position myself for a yes to the next date.” 

“And how exactly did you do that?”

“I started applying to jobs a couple months ago, Callie. I got a great offer Friday morning and I’m going to take it. That is, depending on how this conversation goes I’ll give them my final answer tomorrow morning. That was the other part of my resolution. To finally stop staring at you, waiting for you to talk to me, and ask you myself if I’ve got a chance. So what do you think, Cal? Should I take the job?”

She thought about it. She thought about his Southern gentleman quirks, opening the door for her when they went into meetings together, about the way his hair felt under her fingers, and about how stupid it looked, when she pushed it back into one of her headbands. She thought about the way her cheeks would flush when she’d catch his eyes on her. She thought about how surprised she’d been the first time he asked her out. He was gorgeous and she was too focused on other things to ever give men a chance to express interest in her. 

She thought about the fact that this wasn’t a casual question. That saying yes to this man meant saying yes to trying for a real relationship. It meant the possibility of commitment. The possibility of forever. And then she thought about his voice telling her that she was the kind of woman you don’t let get away.

“I think,” she started, taking the last small step to close the space the between them and reaching up to smooth his hair out of his eyes, “that you should definitely get a haircut before your first day at your big, new job, Dr. Latham.” A wide grin split his face and made those crinkles at the corners of his eyes that she’d been pretending not to notice for the last year. 

“I think that’s very good advice, Dr. Micholls,” he replied. Then he pushed the bottles further back on the counter and leaned her against it for a long awaited kiss.