To Color Your Life

"Here," Emily held out the antiseptic and plaster to the boss.

"I would appreciate it if you would do it for me, Miss Hayes," the man sighed, leaned over to the girl and added in a whisper, "I'm terribly afraid of the sight of blood. But it's a secret," he winked and stared at Emily with pleading eyes. A cat from Shrek would have envied such a spectacular move.

The enemy was taken by surprise. Emily felt a slight twinge of conscience for not choosing another antiseptic. She herself was terrified of any medications that would pinch or burn. And she mentally prepared for planned visits to the dentist a month before the appointment date, as if she was getting ready for a great battle.

"How can I miss the moment and refuse the care of a beautiful lady," the man beamed in anticipation and leaned against the desk. Her work desk.

Emily watched as his butt settled imposingly where her coffee mug had stood ten minutes ago. Shameless pig!

The dragon, which had already yawned and prepared to doze off, opened its eyes and showed its fangs.

The girl glanced at the small bottle of antiseptic in her hands and opened the lid.

"Of course, Mr. Evans. It's not difficult for me," Emily soaked a piece of cotton wool with liquid very well and without hesitation applied it to the man's split lip. Her own lips could hardly resist curling into a malicious grin.

A second, then, another one. The man was silent, and only his pupils became wider.

"Is everything all right?" the girl asked and waved her eyelashes a couple of times, depicting holy innocence.

"Not really," Evans croaked in an inhuman voice, "I have a low pain threshold. I think I'm about to pass out. It hurts so much," he rolled his eyes and began to fall on the girl.

Panic swept over Emily. She threw aside the cotton wool with an antiseptic, grasped the man's face with her palms, bent down to his lips and began to blow on them.

Her grandmother always did that. Knowing the sensitivity of her granddaughter, the woman blew on any, even the smallest wound, until it stopped hurting.

Emily acted mechanically, completely oblivious to how much her actions matched the situation.

"Did you drink cinnamon coffee?" uttered the lips that were five centimeters from her own mouth.

Emily blew out her last breath and froze before she could breathe again. The sight of her own fingers on the man's chin, right next to his teasing mouth, acted like a blow in the gut.

The man swallowed, his Adam's apple twitching seductively.

"Miss Hayes?" the sound of his voice dropped to a whisper.

Emily dawned on what she had done. Inside, something skipped a beat and snapped sweetly, filling the body with strange sensations. The girl blushed rapidly and pulled her fingers away, as if she burnt them.

What the hell are you doing, you fool?! A little more, and she would have won the Darwin Prize for having died because of shame.

The boss grabbed her hand and squeezed it between his palms. Emily looked into his eyes and saw not a hint of grin or amusement in them. On the contrary, there was something there that made her heart jump and skip a beat.

"Thank you so much, you saved me," Evans said soulfully.

"Ahaha, you are exaggerating," Emily managed to say, finally taking a breath. She tried to pull her hand out, but warm male fingers gripped her palm even tighter.

The heart, which had frozen before, was beating at a breakneck speed, violating all the established limits. Who could have fainted now was Emily Hayes.

She preferred safe driving. Taking part in such a race was too much.

Her heart only recently regressed after a serious accident. In the case of Justin Evans, it was a gate to the Formula One track, where any wrong turn of the steering wheel could be fatal.

"It's just a scratch. You don't die of that," Emily pulled her hand toward herself. But either the man was stronger, or she did not exert enough strength, the warmth of his palms was still warming her skin.

"Well, you really did! If you hadn't treated the wound, it could have become inflamed," retorted Mr. Evans. His thumb lightly stroked the girl's wrist, as if by chance.

Oh-oh-oh...

"Or I could pass out from the pain, hit my head on the floor, and die on the spot." He stroked her wrist again.

This is physiology! It's all damned physiology! Red bulbs with the words "danger" blinked in her head.

The girl resolutely freed her hand, "Well, since you are back to humor again, Mr. Evans, you are no longer in danger of death. So...," she fell silent, swallowing the words that she almost voiced.

The boss got the hint, "What? Do you want to kick me out of my own magazine again?" he asked mockingly.

Yes! This very second!

"Of course not, Mr. Evans. My working day is over and I wanted to say goodbye, that's all." Exactly. Say goodbye and run away from here (from you) as quickly as possible.

The presence of this man within a radius of one meter was beginning to influence Emily in a strange way.

What the hell is going on?! These are all the stupid novels that she had to read all day, to blame!

Exactly! She will come home and open the latest paper on quantum physics or string theory as an antidote!

"Won't you even get me a coffee?" complained the boss. He looked too pleased for an offended exile. "Miss Hayes, don't you know that after stress, you need to eat something sweet?"

If I were eating sweet every stress, I would be the size of a sumo wrestler! However, pizza at night is also not the smartest decision, thought the girl.

"Do you have anything sweet?" he asked, glancing briefly over the girl's jacket.

"I have not," Emily pointed her finger in the direction of the coffee bar, where there was a vending machine with snacks, "And there is something over there."

Evans turned his head and whistled contentedly, "You're doing pretty well here."

"Actually, YOU are doing pretty well here."

Don't you even dare tell me that you were not aware of where everything is!

"Choose whichever you like best, Mr. Evans. There is a large assortment here," she led him to a vending machine, behind the glass of which were all kinds of snacks and chocolate bars.

"Oh, I don't even know… There's such a choice…," the man began to look at the window with such a serious face as if he was choosing a wedding ring and not a portion of fast carbohydrates. "What do you like more?"

"I don't like that," Emily replied. It was not clear from her face whether she was talking about sweet or something else.

But Justin Evans was not at all embarrassed by the girl's indifferent expression. "Oh, I'll eat this one!" he jabbed a finger at a nearby candy bar and looked expectantly at Hayes.

"What?" she did not understand his silent request. He was clearly hinting at something.

"I have no money with me."

"Me too," Emily deadpanned.

Evans pursed his lips. Laughing or what?

"But you have a key card, right? You were able to get here?"

"Y-yes," the girl could not grasp the connection between the admission to the department and the cookies in the machine.

"For the staff of the magazine, all refreshments and snacks in the machines are free. You just need to attach a pass to this scanner," the man pointed to a black window on the side of the main display.

Oh.

Emily looked at the large box of sweets with new eyes. And there really was a wide choice of different delicious sweets there! And it's free! Lonely coffee in the stomach demanded dessert.

"I did not know."

"You didn't?" the man raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Is this your first time with me? I'm flattered," he broke into a smug smile. "For everything to go smoothly, the main thing is to put the right thing in the right place and, do it very gently. Trust me, I have a lot of experience in such matters."

With a grave air, as if his words had no double connotation, he pulled her card from Emily's breast pocket and held it to the scanner, "First, light touch here, as a prelude." The scanner beeped and highlighted a narrow window on the main display, "Then carefully insert this thing inside, everything is ready for it," Evans tucked the card into the slot of the device, "Then you decide what kind of treat you want in the end. Press the button and voila, you're done!"

The man poked his finger at the nearest chocolate bar, the vending machine made a beep, pushed the selected product forward, and it fell into the dispensing compartment.

"You can enjoy a well-deserved dessert!" Justin winked at Emily and put his hand in the window to pick up the chocolate bar.

A second passed, then another one, but the man remained standing in the same position.

"What is it, Mr. Evans?" Emily clarified, with obviously feigned empathy in her voice, "Couldn't finish it?"

"Ahaha, Miss Hayes, I admire your sense of humor."

"Oh, common, Mr. Evans, it's just your joking manners passed on to me. So what's up?" she squatted down next to him, trying not to think about the embarrassing pictures in her head that betrayed her imagination.

The man made several attempts to get the selected product, but all was in vain.

"This thing is stuck and I can't reach it. Maybe you can try?" he suggested.

Or maybe you just go home? Emily wanted to suggest in return. Then she would not suddenly recall in detail the plots of the novels which she read during the day.

"Okay, move over."

She put her hand through the narrow window. The chocolate got stuck on the panel above it, so it didn't fall down as it should. The girl felt the corner of the bar and pulled it towards herself. The bar moved well at first but soon got stuck again.

"Well, how is it going? Is it coming out?" Emily felt Justin's breath in her ear. The man leaned closer and pretended to look inside the window.

"Almost," she managed to say. From unplanned physical activity (and not from the presence of someone!) the girl became hot.

Hayes pressed her lips together tightly, wrapped her fingers around the accessible end of the chocolate and pulled it sharply towards herself.

But the girl did not take into account that she was wearing heels, and sudden movements in such shoes, and even in a tight skirt, could have consequences.

Emily lost her balance and plopped down on her ass with all her might, simultaneously catching the boss and knocking him down on the floor.

"Damn it," she swore, rubbing her soft spot.

"Miss Hayes! Are you okay? No bruise, no fracture? We urgently need to check everything!" Evans was not taken aback and also checked her bruised place, "Everything is fine here. Let's check other areas!"

"Mr. Evans!" Emily turned her head abruptly and immediately slammed her forehead into the man's.

"Ouch!"

Stars flew from her eyes. At least she saw them behind the lenses of her glasses.

"Miss Hayes, we have to go to the hospital! What if you have a concussion?!"

"I have no concussion!" Emily took off her glasses and wiped her eyes, which were filled with tears. The stupid mascara from the moisture that got on it began to pinch her eyes, causing even more tears.

"How many fingers am I showing?" asked a blurred picture of the boss.

The girl narrowed her eyes, "Three."

"How many do you see now?" the picture suddenly became clear and very close. "How many now?"

"Three," she swallowed.

"And now?" He was so close now that Emily could see the dark lashes behind the gray eyes. Her heart beat faster. Apparently, the consequences of an unexpected fall.

"T-two," she said and froze.

"Well done," the sounds of low timbre went chills over the girl's skin.

There was a strange tug at the bottom of her belly. Apparently, the consequences of hunger.

She could feel his breath on her face and the slight scent of menthol. Cologne? Shaving foam? Chewing gum?

"What's going on here?"

The scent of menthol vanished as if swept away by the wind.

Emily put on her glasses and looked up. Catherine was standing in front of her and looking with curiosity at the couple sprawled on the floor.

"We decided to have some tea with chocolate. Want to keep us company, Miss Joyce?" Justin found what to say, without the slightest hint of embarrassment in his voice. As if they were already sitting and nobly drinking tea, and not lying on the floor in a compromising position.

Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. For some reason, she felt that tomorrow at work new colleagues would look at her again with a strange look. And this time people will have all the reasons for it.