#cheripi

The pain in your hand was slight. Not enough to make you want to stop, but just enough to wring a groan of frustration from you. This was the third pile of paperwork you suffered through and the work day was nowhere near over. Thankfully, you’d be able to go get lunch from the little cafe on the first floor in a few more minutes. The office was as boring as a corporate building could get. Each floor of the massive skyscraper was lined with grey cubicles, chrome computers, and varying shades of white and blues of people in their work uniforms. The sound of typing keyboards and mouse clicks rattled the air, each person moving at their own speed, but the sound collectively… Needless to say, it came to no one’s surprise that Sunshine Valley Industries valued uniformity.

But that never bothered you really, you’ve been here for about four years now. It was through your perky personality and overwhelming tenacity was you promoted to a head secretary just a year ago. Or something of that sort. In fact, you weren’t completely sure what your official job title was, it was all a vibrant slew of ridiculously articulate terminology.  All you really knew was that you were given a ton of paperwork to sort through and every so often you’d schedule or cancel an appointment. Most of the legwork was handled by the receptionist named Judy Furrow on the first floor. She’s been working for the company much longer than you have, and it was her who trained you when you received your promotion. She’s a tight-lipped, high brow, rather no-nonsense kind of woman (legend has it that her glare can turn people to stone), but she has never done you any wrong and has always been there for you.

A soft vibration from your wristwatch told you the time, and the cute kitten mascot on your phone held up a notification that it was finally time for your lunch break. Stretching high and then low, you practically skipped your way to the elevator and made it out to the lobby of the first floor. The change of scenery had always sort of disorientated you.

The floors were glaringly white, virtually spotless as they distorted but reflected images. The lights above didn’t help either; lines of powerful lights gave a shine to everyone and everything in the lobby. As you walked out of the elevator, you took note of the black couches and chairs by the front by the door, the carpet beneath it a stark grey. To your immediate right was a line of metal chairs, all with backs of grey, though none of them were occupied. Normally there would be businessmen from other powerful companies in those seats, waiting to be called into a meeting on the top floor where your boss resides. To your left was Judy’s desk, a full on circle desk with several state of the art monitors and phones. And of course, there was Judy herself, speaking firmly into her headpiece and maneuvering between each computer screen with a sort of grace only defined by the professionals. She looked up for a brief moment and waved her pen at you in acknowledgment. You make a gesture to around the corner of the lobby and she shakes her head, but mouths a ‘thank you’. You simply nod and smile and walk around the corner to the cafe.

The scene was much more pleasant here. The strong lights of the lobby were replaced by a softer yellow from the hanging lamps and the wide windows let in more natural sunlight. The smell of coffee and baked goods filled the air and the barista smiled warmly at you. You know all the baristas that work here, late nights made sure of that, so by the time you made it up to the counter, your order was already waiting for you. Tony, the barista of the day, gave you an extra bottle of water for Judy, because “Lord knows she needs it” as you rang up your lunch. He gave a wave goodbye and tended to the new coming lunch rush. You paused only for a moment to place the bottle of water on Judy’s desk, who at the moment of watching the newfound lunch rush, looked especially grateful, and gave you one of her rare, but not so rare to you,  half smiles. On the elevator, you were especially pleased to see the scribbles and drawings that Tony had left on the paper bag of your sack lunch. All the baristas drew pictures on the bags of orders, but the ones you got were particularly great because you could get from anything from a cute flower to amazing art to a picture retelling the grand adventures of handling customers. Today, it seemed that Tony was very fond of bunnies.  

You worked on the 39th floor of the 40-floor building, and of those floors, 38 of them were practically identical. Grey cubicles, all neatly lined up, a hard navy blue carpeting all encased within beige colored walls, most of the windows were occupied by actual offices of managers and the large window to the left of the floors had a tinted glass, warping the light of sunshine. It seemed the primary source of lighting came from the long fluorescent tube lights from above, but given how old they were, they always let off a soft beige kind of light. It was boring and textbook, but you managed to make this drab little space into a home of sorts. The transition from the cramped little box into the more airy space of your own desk was a lovely one in your case. It wasn’t quite an office, like the ones by the windows, but the long semicircle desk that bore the company’s logo on the front had plenty of room for you to decorate. From cheap fairy lights, animal shaped erasers, and colorful office supplies, your desk was as neat and cute as you and the compliments from others were never dull as people gushed over the newest item or color you put in your space.

It was on the 20th floor did the elevator stop. The door chimed open and you could feel your heart drop to your knees. Standing before you was an absolute goliath of a man. A familiar one no doubt. Marching into the elevator with you was none other than Mr. Beckett Everest himself, the CEO of Sunshine Valley Industries. Of course, the man was on every major business magazine and so on, but you personally had only ever seen him a few times in your career. He was typically away on travel or stuck upstairs in his office during meetings, so not many employees such as yourself got to see him often to be quite frank. Regardless, this was the first time you’ve seen him up close and in such small quarters. He loomed over you, he had to be at least 7 feet tall, perhaps even taller as he seemed to need to crane his neck to get into the elevator. One of his most prominent features, of course, was his large gut that hung the rim of his belt and pants low.  His dark hair had very few streaks of grey as it flowed down the sharp features of his face into a full beard and mustache. His face was set in a sort of permanent scowl, his thick brows bent low to his icy blue eyes.

Eyes of which was locked on to you. His scowl only seemed to deepen as you realized you were closer to the elevator buttons and had yet to continue the ride up. You scrambled quickly and pushed your floor and the top floor and waited in silence. You were facing the panel, but you could feel his eyes still on you, burning on the back of your neck. You could smell the heat of your lunch beginning to mingle with his cologne, which for the moment was admittedly nice, but there was tension in the silence between the both of you. Just before your floor, you impulsively blurted out,

“Well, have a great day, sir!”

You realized how high your voice was and questioned the level of enthusiasm you put in that response. The doors opened and you quickly shuffled out of it, taking only a second to peer behind your shoulder and back to the boss. You didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes only seemed to have intensified, his brows sunk low into his face and his mouth was partly open as if he meant to speak but stopped himself. The doors of the elevator closed and you sat at your desk, but you simply couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes off of you; it felt as though his stare was piercing through the ceiling and directly at you.

A week or so had passed since you last encountered the boss and the vibration and phone alarm signaled you for lunchtime. You made sure to stretch per usual and waltzed to the elevator. When it opened, you were more than surprised to see Mr. Beckett standing in the cart, looking at his phone. For some reason you froze, you aren’t sure why, but you were completely and utterly paralyzed. Beckett looked up from his phone and out to you, and the stare he bore on you was somehow, some way, more intense than the one you remembered a week back. It ran chills through you, and it only seemed to get colder as the expression on his face darkened. His full attention was on you now, and for some reason, you felt your heartbeat in your ears as he placed his phone away in his pocket and shifted his entire body to face you. The elevator doors began to close, and for some reason, relief began to overwhelm you. That relief was quickly snatched away as a large hand caught the door and forced it back open. The CEO had leaned his head out to you, the look in his eyes left you captivated, drowning in the seas of his eyes. His voice was low, a whisper really, as he spoke, but it rattled through you like a thunderstorm,

“You,” he began, and you note his eyes seemed to flutter as he looked over your face, “are wasting my time.”

His perfectly straight teeth were bared as he placed an emphasis on each of his words,

“Get. In. Now.”

You never knew you could move that quickly, but there you were, an absolute shaking mess silhouetted by a hulking and rather irritable behemoth of a man. You believed the ride would have been in silence like last time, but the boss spoke up as he adjusted his suit jacket and tie in the reflection of the elevator’s door,

“I am not a fan of having my time wasted, you know.”

“S-sorry.”

For a second, and only a second you could have sworn you saw a twitch upward in his brow, as though he were apologetic at the sound of your quivering voice. Regardless, his expression remained still. He looked down at you before the elevator stopped on the 20th floor.

“Don’t,” he reached for his phone once again, maintaining eye contact, “let it happen again.” And with that, he left.

You would later get a rather quick text from the barista of the day, Ali, who was concerned with your ‘shell-shocked look from hell’. You wave it off and spam her with an excessive amount emojis and stickers, to which she replies with even more emojis and stickers. However, for some untold reason, the thought of the snarling look on the boss’s face left a strange heat in your stomach, and you weren't quite sure why.

The next few weeks follow the same pattern, right around your lunchtime, you would be stuck in the elevator with your boss and he would get off at the 20th floor. Very rarely did he get back on the elevator to go back up when you returned from the cafe like the first time you ran into him. The first few rides were all in silence, you were terrified to speak up during the rides with him but on some occasions, you’d give him a friendly goodbye as he left. It was a peculiar way to ‘break the ice’, but you can distinctly remember the day the two of you began to speak more. On a ride down, Beckett had leaned in closer to you, and raised an eyebrow,

“What are you wearing?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you wearing a new perfume?”

You told him, yes, but it wasn’t a new one. After a couple of tense seconds, you replied that you did, however, start using this new fruity shampoo. Beckett nodded to himself,

“Well, whatever it is. Keep using it, it’s… nice.”

And with that, his stop appeared and he left without another word. That was perhaps the first time you’ve ever heard his voice that soft. It was calming, and you could feel the awkwardness slip away with each elevator ride afterward.

He didn’t show up today. The elevator doors opened and the cart was empty, which wouldn’t typically bug you except that it completely did. You knew he wasn’t away on a business trip, and he most certainly checked in, but he just wasn’t there today. No big deal, though, right? You make it down to the lobby and as you signal to Judy, you can’t help but overhear her on the phone,

“Yes, well, Mr. Everest is especially busy at the moment. Yes, he is currently in a meeting. Yes, I will be sure to let him know you called.”

So that’s what it was, poor old Fat Cat is stuck doing his job for once, Tony laughed as you picked up your lunch. He rings you up and from around the corner, loud voices fill the lobby and a large mob of businessmen swarm the scene. They each bear a pin from another company you are vaguely familiar with, but you figure these guys are from the top floor.  It was impulsive, but you quickly ask Tony for a large coffee with extra cream and sugar. He fills the order, of course, not without a raised brow and a shrug, and you find yourself rushing to the elevator door. There was a surge of adrenaline going through you, so powerful you felt as though nothing could stop you. You were going to take this coffee right to his office and give it to him. How dare he miss out on the wonderful gift that is you? A pride swells in your chest and the door to the top floor swings open. You step through, but it really wasn’t what you were expecting.

The room itself was large enough; all of the lights were currently off, there seemed to be large black blinds over the windows and the only sure source of light was coming from a projector which displayed a couple of graphs and statistics. To your right, there was a large glass room with a long oval table and a vast array of chairs. The table was littered with papers, pens, binders, folders, water bottles and other miscellaneous items. A good amount of the chairs had jackets on the backs and the projector stood in the middle of the table on a tripod, its loud hum filling the empty room. To the left, there was a couch, two chairs and a wide rectangular coffee table with scattered magazines on it. Looking further back, there was what looked to be the doors to bathrooms, a sort of water machine, what looked to be a whole corner with a sink, a coffee machine, and cabinets, and finally another table with a light fixture above it. It had a rather uncanny resemblance to a hotel room, as though it was meant to be lived out of. Ahead of you were two large wooden doors with metal plating in the shape of the company’s logo. Beckett’s office, no doubt. You walk cautiously forward, the light of the projector fading as you walk closer to the office doors. You knock all but twice before hearing the strong voice of the boss inside. The fire in you lights up once again and you confidently slide open one of the doors and stride on in.

Beckett sits before you, his arms propped up on his desk and his finger intertwined. His office is dimly lit, the blinds pulled over the massive window that surrounds the back of his office. What little sunlight pours in reflects off his face, but as he gazes upon you, he sits up more, sinking his face into the dark of the room and the glint of his tie clip fills your eyes. You place the coffee on his desk and pout at him, saying how you didn’t get a chance to see him today. Beckett scoffs,

“You know damn well I’m busy, Brat.”

You tell him no excuses and he rolls his eyes with a growl.

“I have a meeting to get back to in five minutes,” he stands up, the sun now dancing in his hair and face. “But I appreciate the gesture.”

He slowly rounds his desk and over to you, lowering his head until he is eye level with you,

“Now, this may be cute and all. But don’t you ever let me catch you interrupting one of my meetings. Especially not with that smug ass attitude of yours.”

He leans in closer now, the scent of his cologne fills your nose and his lips are pulled back into a snarl, “I’ll crush that pretty little throat of yours and grind you into dust.”

His face was only inches from yours,

“Do I make myself clear?” the growl in his voice rumbles deep within his chest and rocks you to your core.

You can see the way his teeth come to a point and the way his eyes flashed dangerously. He was certainly dangerous. But you were foolish. You quickly close the gap between you two and kiss his nose before replying,

“Crystal, Beck.”

You pause and think about what you just did and Beckett quickly rises. Before you could whimper out an apology, his shoulders heave and one of the loudest noises you’ve heard erupts from the man. But it wasn’t an angry noise, no, he was… laughing? Beckett leaned against his desk and laughed heartily, his hands on his wobbling stomach, it was an odd sound to hear, but it made you warm inside to listen to him try to regain his composure. The smile on his face sent your hearts for loops, and you couldn’t help but chuckle with him.

“You are brave, darling, I’ll give you that.” he wiped the corner of his eyes, with a long sigh.

He gazes down upon you and shakes his head, “Quite, quite brave.” He then looks up, the smile returning as he ponders over it, “Beck, huh? Yea, alright. I’ll accept that one. Brat.”

He seemed especially pleased about your nickname, you were his brat, and he was your Beck. It was hard to see in the dark of the room, but there was a fine blush that spread to the tips of his ears.

The sound of voices suddenly fills the air and Beckett looks down at his large watch and kisses his teeth. You peer out of the large door and watch as businessmen fill the glass room. Turning back at Beckett, he hands you your sack lunch before backpedaling to his desk. He grabs the coffee and pauses before looking at you with a glare,

“Don’t you have work to do? Get to it!” He hisses and ushers you out of the door. You quickly make your way to the elevator and climb in, catching only a glimpse of Beck as he entered the glass room. When you got to your desk, your stomach was full of butterflies and a blush was full on your face. But when you opened your lunch bag, you gasped loudly. Beck had stolen your pastry and left a sticky note that read “IOU” with a crudely drawn heart next to it. He was lucky he was cute!  

You always hated this season. Perhaps not weather-wise, but most certainly work wise. As if sifting through loads of papers wasn’t enough, the stacks only seemed to double and soon your phone was almost as busy as Judy’s. You practically counted down the seconds before your lunch break, and when your alarm went off, you punched the air with a hefty sigh. You reached the elevator and as it opened, you could see it was empty. Beck was just as busy as you were, if not more, and lately the two of you rarely ever saw each other. It upset you, but then again he is the boss. But as fate would have it, as you got to your floor, Beck had stepped on the elevator. You greeted him warmly, but he seemed a bit off. His ears were a bright red and he merely kissed his teeth and told you to get out of his way. You simply thought it was the stress getting to him.

When you made it back to your desk, you were especially vulgar about the hefty new piles of papers in your inbox basket. Your workload had doubled, if not tripled during the short time it took you to get your lunch. With a hefty sigh, you sat in your chair and pulled the first file from the mountain. Upon looking at it, you saw the yellow sticky note with a message that read, “Handle this for me, Brat” and a rather familiar looking crudely drawn heart. Had Beck been down here? Regardless, you remove the note, a smile now on your face, and get back to work. As you progressed, you found more notes, and as you burned through the majority of it, you had a multitude of them, all with encouraging statements hidden between variations of ‘brat’ and ‘get back to work’ and things of that sort. You had finally reached the bottom of the pile and on the last folder was a bright pink note. You carefully pick it up and read, “Great work! Text me when you are finished’ and below it was a phone number. Was he serious? Was he honestly serious about this? As much as this completely blew your mind, you pulled out your phone and shot the number a text. The reply was almost immediate. Was he anticipating this? Is this why he looked so flushed in the elevator? Interested, you ask him exactly that. The reply takes a bit longer but he confirms your suspicions. He then sends you a brick of text, long and intricate, almost as if he had spent the whole day trying to perfect this text just for this moment. It flattered you just as much as it made you laugh. For some big bad businessman, he certainly was a wonderfully dorky guy. As you clocked out, you read through the text again, loving just how ridiculously ornate his words were and it was clear to see he was most definitely trying to impress you. The elevator door opened and you absentmindedly entered, only to be greeted by a warm, soft, barricade. Looking up, you saw Beck’s blushing face, his eyes rolling away from you,

“Watch where you’re going.”

You took the time to tease him about the texts, and each time he had the chance, he’d call you a brat or a nuisance or ‘his favorite kind of headache’. The blush didn’t leave him the whole ride. He looked at his phone, then back to you, and back again. He let out a sort of groan and growl and turned directly towards you, one arm looming over your head as he leaned in close,

“You. Me. Dinner tonight.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

The elevator doors open,

“Does it matter, brat? Yes or no?” He fixed his tie as he stood up.

You playfully pout your lips and stroke your chin, as if to think about it out loud. The growl in his chest gave way to another groan of annoyance. You laugh and tell him yes, and set the time for eight o'clock that night. He looked awfully pleased as he nodded at you, the corners of his lips curled upward in victory,

“Eight it is then.” his voice was practically brimming with pride. Wonderfully dorky indeed.

He was very punctual. Right as the hand struck eight, there was a firm knock on your door. When you answered, a large bouquet of flowers was placed in your arms and an even larger Beckett with a huge teddy bear. He claimed that he figured you’d like the bear and as you began to tease him about it, he merely scoffed and told you it was on sale and it was too big for the window and he really couldn’t care less. But upon seeing the smile it put on your face, even he knew better than to try to deny his feelings about you. The two of you climb into a rather expensive sports car and head off to the restaurant. If there was one thing this joint wasn’t, it was quaint. The grandeur of the place made it seem as though only royalty could eat there, and quite frankly you were positive you saw a few people with crowns on their heads. The restaurant itself was two stories, the upper level leading to the balcony dining area and the lower equipped with a large stage with a fine jazz group playing. The walls were lined with red couches and tables, each occupied by someone who looked expensive just to look at. Large diamond chandeliers hung low from the ceiling, emitting a soft yellow light, and the smell of food wafted just right beneath the sea of pricey perfumes and colognes. Beckett looked around the room and his nose scrunched up between the thickness of his brows. He then looked up and guided the two of you towards the stairs where he took a few steps up, paused, turned to you and walked back down. He swept his arm under your knees and lifted you up the stairs effortlessly. At the top, he merely replied that he knew your shoes were uncomfortable and he didn't want to wait for a millennia for you to climb them. The two of you sat at a table towards the middle of the balcony, the moon was full and its light danced among the glitter and gold that surround you. Beckett certainly looked like the kind to fit this scene, the streaks of silver in his hair shone brilliantly in the moonlight and his eyes somehow looked brighter than before. He was talking to you, telling you all about his day but his mind was elsewhere.

How does he tell you? You looked so beautiful to him, you always did, if he was honest. Your curls fell perfectly against your face, your eyes were so full of warmth and passion and dare he say, love? Your face, your skin, your everything, absolute perfection. You somehow managed to put every diamond here to shame. He was a man of business. He was a man of money. He was a man of sin and lies but never had he thought about love. He was a man of many things, but if there was one thing he wanted to be, more than anything, to which he knew he could never buy, what he could never bargain, what he would never cheat or lie or manipulate in order to achieve; what he wanted more than anything was to be yours. He wanted to be your man. He wanted to protect you, to spoil you, to hold and caress you and keep you in his office all day just to admire you,  yes, Beckett Everest was in love. Desperately, hopelessly, wonderfully in love.

The two of you ate and drank the finest wines and food the place had to offer. Beckett playfully handed you the bill, and the price tag was just enough to sober you up a bit. Beck erupted into laughter, paying the bill in cash before offering you his arm and walking you back to the stairs. Now, you were not completely drunk off your rocker, but you had a nice buzz going for you at the moment. Beck moved down a stair or two, waiting for you to follow, and entertained the idea of you carefully maneuvering down the stairs by yourself. It amused him, sure, but he would be damned if anything happened to you. He reached up and out and scooped you into his arms and down the stairs. Even at the bottom, he continued to carry you, simply enjoying the feeling of having you so close to him. His car pulls around and he opens your door before driving you home. Once there, he tries to settle you into bed, but you quickly grab his hand. You ask if he was busy the next morning. He doesn’t respond, but asks why the sudden question? You tell him to “wait right there, don't move a muscle”, and slip into your room to change into your pajamas. When you return, Beck is in your living room, observing the decor.

“So much for ‘stay right there.’” you tease, and he chuckles softly. You pull him to the couch and switch on your television, sleep now in the both of your eyes. You find a channel with old cartoon reruns and lean against him, to which he then effortlessly lifts you onto his plush stomach and drapes his coat over the both of you. Your attention to the screen fades in and out as you drift to sleep, but you can distinctly hear the soft murmur of Beck as he whispers, “Good night, my sweet.” before you fall asleep.

When you wake up, you are lying in your bed. You are able to recall last night’s events fairly clearly and you feel a bit disappointed. You supposed he really was busy today. While it was your day off, you guessed the work of the company is never finished. You roll out of bed and into your bathroom, but you suddenly hear a barrage of noises in your kitchen. Thankfully you hear the deep rumbling voice of Beck and you quickly go investigate. The large man was certainly in your kitchen and upon seeing you he smiled warmly and his voice gave way to a familiar softness,

“Well good morning there, darling. Sleep well?”

You reply and he promptly tells you to hurry up and get dressed. You ask for the occasion and he scoffs,

“So I take a day off just for you and you want to question it, you little brat?”

He tells you that he made reservations for a cute cafe, full of cute frilly things he figured you’d like. He looked rather guilty for a moment as he mentioned very briefly that you’ll both be going grocery shopping as well. He meant to make you breakfast but… He pats his stomach a few times and scratches the back of his neck, the tips of his ears erupting with red blush. He clears his throat and continues, from the cafe it would be to the mall, as he explains he wants to be sure you have enough high fashion outfits; the two of you will be going out to extravagant venues quite a bit. And then to the comic book store, simply because he knows you enjoy them. He then trails off, and says from there the reigns are really quite yours, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes as he mentions that he would be the one cooking dinner tonight as a way to make up for breakfast. You laugh and tell him you’ll be ready soon to which he gives you a few more ‘hurry up!’ within the hour, but soon you are dressed and prepared for your day out.