#cdm thomas

A few minutes later, their food arrived, and it didn’t take them long to find a table. Thomas wasn’t exactly a fan of fast food restaurants, but he knew if Alice stayed cooped up all weekend, she’d be unbearable on Monday. And he didn’t want to deal with that version of her, nor did he fancy watching their coworkers roll their eyes at every comment she made.

While chewing her burger, Ali felt Thomas’s eyes on her hair.

"I have a hair appointment on Tuesday," she said, wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

"I figured. You’ve never let your roots grow out this much.” Alice nodded while sipping her juice. “Why don’t you go back to your natural hair color?"

"Because right now, I identify with being blonde." Thomas raised an eyebrow, prompting her to explain. "You know, with all this darkness inside, I need to show a bit of light on the outside."

"Oh, here we go again with your soul stuff." Alice laughed, pleased with his logical retort. "You do know the only thing that can fix that inner darkness is a therapist, not a hairdresser, right?"

"I might’ve heard that once or twice."

Now it was Thomas’s turn to laugh. Popping three fries into his mouth, he chewed while glancing around the nearly empty place. That’s what you got for dining at eleven on a Sunday night in March, peaceful solitude and each other’s company.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Alice frown at her phone. Either someone had dumped puppies at the shelter she volunteered at on Saturdays, or she’d just gotten a message from Devon during his break.

Three minutes passed and her expression hadn’t changed. Thomas crumpled the empty fry packet and began stacking the trash on the tray to get her attention.

"Remember I told you Ioan finally got divorced and started dating my friend Léa?" she asked" "You cried nonstop for three days and broke your record for not showering. 48 hours."

"Thanks, RAM drive.” The redhead smiled faintly at the nickname. “Thing is, Léa just messaged me.” She rested her chin on her hand and huffed. “They’re getting married. April 27th"

"Oh." Thomas scratched his cheek, unsure of the most appropriate response. "Well… good for them?"

"No. Honestly, I wish Ioan had been hit by a double-decker bus."

"Oh, The Smiths. So romantic." "Léa invited me to the wedding, Thomas," said Alice, turning to look at him. "And she made sure to bold the words ‘you can bring a plus-one."

"Then bring a plus-one." "Sure, let me just hop on Tinder real quick." Thomas rolled his eyes. Every Tinder adventure had ended in disaster. Disasters he could recount in painful, sometimes graphic, detail he wished he could forget.

"You’ve got over a month to find someone. And if you don’t, what’s the big deal with going solo?" Alice turned her phone screen toward him, pointing at Ioan’s name in the invite. "I’ve got a better idea, Ali: don’t go to the wedding."

"I have to go for Léa, not for that asshole."

Thomas wanted to tell her that maybe Léa wasn’t the best friend in the world if she’d started dating such a lousy ex. He’d love to have the same talk they’d had a dozen times before. And of course, he was willing to try to understand. But Alice, for all her empathy and flexibility, never applied that same logic to her friend.

"You could ask your brother, the invitation doesn’t say the plus-one has to be romantic."

"Thomas, what kind of image do I want to give if I show up with my 19-year-old brother?"

"I don’t know, maybe the image of someone who just doesn’t have a plus-one"

Thomas knew a lot about Ali. Her shoe size, how many diopters she had in each eye, or how many beers she could drink to beat Roy on any given Friday night. But right now, he couldn’t read her mind. Until one of her eyebrows gave a twitch — the kind that always gave her away — and the lightbulb in Thomas’s head flicked on.

"No, Ali. No."

"Thomas, yes" "I’m not going to pretend to be your date at a wedding."

"Oh, come on, it’ll be fun!" "No." Raising a hand, he gave her a small flick on the forehead. "Every single time, and I repeat, every single time you’ve said ‘it’ll be fun’, we’ve ended up in some kind of mess."

"But—"

"No buts this time."

"Remember that amazing leather jacket we saw at the mall the other day?"

"Don’t try to bribe me with capitalist tactics. It won’t work."

"What if I ask Devon to cover an extra hour for you for a month so you can come in later?"

"I don’t want you dumping your work on me either."

"I’ll go with you to the motorcycle expo in Brussels in July. I’ll do your laundry for a whole month. Please, please, please—" She pressed her palms together like she was praying and squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke a mile a minute.

"Fine."

"I’ll pay for your Netflix for a whole year."

"Alice—" Thomas took her hands and gently lowered them from his face. "I said fine. I’ll go with you."

Thomas knew a lot about Alice Dubois. Some things good, others… less so. But if he had to pick one of his favorite things about her, it was that thrilled smile she got when something went her way. Flashing her teeth, including the tiny chip on her left front tooth, Alice grinned so wide it nearly reached her eyes.

And Thomas knew this was going to be a mess, and that Alice would regret promising him a year of Netflix. But in that moment, just for that smile, maybe it would be worth it.

Six weeks later, Thomas had discovered a lot about Alice. In addition to having done her Erasmus in Italy, she had learned how to make the best carbonara in the world (or so she claimed). She always needed something in her hands when talking to someone—and that was all the time, because she couldn’t stay quiet for more than ten minutes. Most of the time, she was taking her rings on and off, never forgetting their combination. She was funny and always had questions for Thomas. And they made a good work team. But the most surprising thing was that Alice was just as observant.

She had memorized Thomas’s hot chocolate schedule perfectly, and two minutes before he’d get up, she would declare it was time for her coffee break too. And she always ordered the same thing: a cinnamon cappuccino.

“How far can you recite the number Pi?”

“Ali, just because I studied engineering doesn’t mean I’m a math genius.” Alice looked away from her screen and peeked over the divider between their desks. She let her glasses slide to the bridge of her nose and squinted. The redhead raised an eyebrow at her expression. “Fine. 3.1415926535.”

“You’re amazing.”

“If you say so.”

They both returned to work in silence. In fifteen minutes, Ali would ask another question or tell him about her weekend. Last week, she had gone with her friend Léa (who was a redhead, like him) to a flea market where she’d tried the best croissants her young palate had ever tasted.

But before Alice’s lips could form a word, her phone interrupted the peace. Looking at the screen with curiosity, she frowned, apologized, and left the room with the phone pressed to her ear. And when ten minutes passed and the blonde hadn’t returned to ask questions or share random thoughts, Thomas knew something was wrong.

“Meeting in my office in two minutes,” Devon entered the room smiling, a folder under his arm. “We’ve got some cool projects this week.”

By "cool" he meant events that no one found remotely interesting, but who were they to crush their boss’s dreams?

“Where’s Ali?” Elenda’s voice surprised the Devenementiel staff, who began turning their heads in search of their coworker.

“She stepped out to take a call,” Roy said. “Ran into her in the hallway, she said she’d be back soon. She looked nervous.”

Thomas glanced at his phone screen instinctively.

“Well, can someone go find her so we can get started? Or we can start without her, right?” Brune’s voice broke the brief silence in the room.

“Thomas, 3D printing event at the engineering school on Tuesday the 28th.” Devon handed him the folder, and the others groaned. No one wanted that project, but they were a little jealous that he always got the best ones. “Can you go find Alice? I’ve got a ceramics workshop opening in two weeks. I’m sure she’d love to handle it. We’ll get started without you. I’ve got to leave early today.”

“Yeah.” Leaving the folder on his desk, he began searching the office for his teammate.

He wasn’t especially thrilled to miss the meeting; it was his favorite way to stay in the loop at the company. That, and watching the 80 daily Instagram stories Elenda posted, which he followed from a fake profile of a Thai nail salon.

After wandering around the office without success, he decided to head down the stairs in case Ali had stepped out for fresh air. And just as he was about to descend the final steps—there she was. Sitting with her head on her knees. Not a good sign.

“Ali,” Thomas spoke from his place on the stairs. He didn’t want to get too close and risk making her uncomfortable. She seemed to be crying, and he was well aware of his non-existent comforting skills. “Devon’s started the project meeting. We need you upstairs.”

“Oh, Thomas.” Her voice sounded dull and lifeless, making Thomas clench his jaw, uneasy. “Sorry. I’ll be up in a second.”

“Okay.” Looking at her back one last time, he continued upstairs.

He knew that if he stayed, things would get awkward. He didn’t want to deal with someone crying, and she probably didn’t want a coworker to see her like that. He checked his watch and bit his lip lightly when he saw it was noon. Time for his hot chocolate, and Alice’s cinnamon cappuccino.

Sighing, he headed to the coffee machine. Tapping his phone screen three times, he heard the coffee machine start up. As he picked up his cup, he began tapping again with his free hand until the machine started up once more.

And when both drinks were in hand, he retraced his steps from five minutes earlier.

“Ali, it’s 12:05.” The blonde turned to see her coworker. With the staircase window behind him, the light made the orange of his curls look even brighter.

“Sorry.” Bringing the back of her hands to her eyes, she began wiping away the traces of tears and smudges of mascara from her cheeks.

“No need to apologize.” Stepping down one stair hesitantly, he held out the coffee at a still-respectful distance. “I just meant that this is when you usually have your cinnamon cappuccino.”

Alice stared at the cup he was holding out to her, stunned.

“If you don’t want it, I can take it back upstairs.”

“You remembered my coffee,” she finally said, more to herself than to him.

“You always order it. How could I not remember?” He shrugged as she reached for the cup, eyes still fixed on the steaming liquid. “Doesn’t seem that impressive to me.”

“I lived with an ex for two years who couldn’t remember to bring me coffee when he went grocery shopping.” She took a sip. “It’s impressive, Thomas.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she said, smiling again. “Someday you’ll realize how lovely it is when someone remembers you. Even when you take it for granted.”

A few seconds later, as he watched her regain her usual self, raccoon mascara and all, swearing because she’d spilled coffee on her white shirt, Thomas thought Alice looked even prettier than she did in the photo he’d used for her company badge.