19

Wednesday, November 30

-See you tomorrow Candice, don't leave too late tonight, you look very tired... Marina lectures me as she leaves my office.

-Don't worry, I'm just finishing a little thing and going home.

My colleague turns on her heels and heads for the elevator. It's after 6:15 p.m., the sales team has packed up for a good ten minutes and I think I'm the only employee still in her office at this hour. I finish what I'm doing and close my files while stretching and yawning. I'm really tired these days, I think I still haven't recovered from my crazy Saturday night. I returned in the early morning, accompanied by Gabriel who behaved like a perfect gentleman. After driving me home while I was sleeping in the passenger seat, he woke me up with a gentle pat on the cheek and simply hugged me goodnight. He didn't try to enter my apartment, he didn't

I really didn't expect to meet my mysterious Big Brown Bear on Saturday night in this club, but the initiative Gabriel took by going to Chill Time to meet me there helped things move forward between us. I had a great time dancing with him, I felt comfortable with him and I really liked the fact that he didn't try anything too fast. We called each other on Sunday and I realized that he had been unsettled by my behavior. I can easily understand it, I was so drunk that I acted listening only to my brain clouded by too many cocktails and without thinking about what it might feel. I apologized and we had a long chat. He quickly regained his teasing and mischievous instincts and I I must have blushed at least ten times behind my phone! Since then, we have exchanged every day, whether by message or by calling.

If I'm totally honest with myself, I still have a great time with Gabriel, but I don't yet feel that spark that would thrill me so much. Cassiopée assured me that this is a good thing because it means that we will first get to know each other sincerely so that we can then perhaps build a beautiful story on sound foundations. Me... I'm skeptical. I have the unpleasant impression that he is already more invested in our... little flirtation. He has clearly told me that he is very interested in me and that he really wants to spend time with me. For my part, I'm a little lost and I can not clearly know what I feel. He makes me laugh, his kindness and gentleness give me confidence and I think of him regularly. VS'

I come out of my thoughts and finally decide to go home. I dream of a nice relaxing shower and then putting on my favorite sweatshirt. Before leaving, I go to the bathroom and on the way back, I notice that an office at the end of the corridor is still lit. I who thought I was alone, I was apparently mistaken. Taken by a burst of curiosity, I head on tiptoe down the hall and I quickly understand that the office in question is none other than that of Mr. Archer. I stop in the middle of the corridor, not knowing what to do. My brain held up a sign reminding me of my three good resolutions, surrounded by flashing red lights. My reason tells me to turn around and go quietly home. My heart, he drums so loudly that it deafens my reasonable thoughts.

This is how I find myself in the half-light of the hallway, near my boss's desk, slightly off to the right. The door is ajar and the sound that resonates between these four walls immediately sends shivers through my body. Mr. Archer is probably on the telephone and he addresses his interlocutor in the language of Shakespeare. I don't see him, I only hear the exquisite sound that comes out of his mouth. His accent and the fluidity of his words leave no doubt that English is his mother tongue. Like an incorrigible gossip, I strain my ears and listen to this sweet melody.

-I don't want to know anything, your organizational problems don't concern me. I want an appointment with Dr. Stear next week. Do as you wish but I'm waiting... Yes I am aware that he is the most renowned specialist in the country and that he must be very busy but if you want to know everything, I don't I don't give a fuck! ... I'm waiting for my appointment.

A long silence begins to settle in, then his deep voice resounds again.

-Listen to me, miss, I don't care about the consequences for your place, all I want is my fucking appointment with this fucking specialist. Don't force me to play with my relationships because I won't give much of your skin.

Rage mingles with a mixture of pain and sadness that I can see in the tone he uses. I absolutely do not understand the scene that is playing out a few meters from me. I only feel immense pain that seems to emanate from my boss. I shudder instantly.

-Thursday 8, at 1:15 p.m. Noted.

Without being more polite than usual, he hangs up and places his phone heavily on his desk. A new silence weighs in the atmosphere and I shift slightly in order to be able to see Mr Archer. The vision that presents itself to my far too curious irises makes my stomach turn.

Mr. Archer is seated facing his desk, his elbows resting on the wood and his head down, held only by his large hands. He seems dejected, completely disarmed. He stays like that for a long moment before raising his head very slowly and staring at an invisible point in front of him. Her eyes lost in the vagueness seem slightly reddened to me. His features are very tense and he carelessly runs his hand through his unruly hair.

To see him like that, you might think he hasn't slept for several days. He seems eaten up inside. My heart aches seeing him in such a state and I only realize at this moment the scope of his telephone conversation. He insisted on getting a medical appointment, with a specialist at that. What can justify such a requirement if not a serious problem? Would he have any health issues? His downcast look causes me even more pain and I just want to take him in my arms to comfort him. Which wouldn't be reasonable. Which, of course, I don't do.

I realize that I am ridiculous, hidden in the darkness of the hallway spying on my boss whom I had promised myself to avoid as much as possible. I reconnect my brain which orders me to return to my office, gather my things, put on my coat, take my purse and leave the building. He tells me to start my car like an automaton, destroying at the same time all my inappropriate thoughts which migrate each time to my superior. My brain tries to impose wise and reasoned decisions on me and I probably should have listened to it.

Instead, I get to know the fiery and reckless Candice that's been sleeping silently inside me until now. She takes control of my body and ignores the commands my brains have desperately tried to send me. All my sensible and thoughtful resolutions are shattered and I take the opposite direction to what I should reasonably be heading. I should probably leave but without really knowing why or how, my feet take a step forward and my palm presses against the door, exerting a slight pressure. I stand in the doorway, hesitant.

My boss does not seem to react to my discreet intrusion since he does not move an inch. His gaze is still lost in the void and a funny feeling runs through my spine as I observe him now in detail, without any restraint. I don't recognize him. Sure, I know it's him sitting quietly at his desk, but it's as if his mind is gone. The envelope is there but its content so complex and bewitching does not share this room. This realization sends shivers down my spine. For the first time, I discover Ethan Archer distraught, devastated and even prostrate. It's empty. Yes, it's empty. And no one should ever suffer such a state, dismissive boss or not.

At this moment, I am unable to remain without doing anything. This sight makes my stomach churn and I'm still frozen in the doorway of his office, staring intently at him without his noticing me. The rebellious Candice who has taken possession of my mind guides me inside the office, which I rediscover tonight. With its dazzling white walls, the room is large and well laid out and an imposing desk sits at the back, further asserting the authority of its occupant. In front of me, slightly to my right, a beautiful shiny metal table sits enthroned, inviting visitors to sit down to chat. Well...discuss is a big word when it comes to Mr. Archer.

He orders and we obey. A huge bay window adorns two sections of the wall, which must surely provide exceptional light in broad daylight. But tonight, dark night has already fallen and it plunges us into a more intimate, almost cramped atmosphere. I'm rather surprised by the few green plants that bring a bit of color to this monochrome painting that I have in front of me. The messy piles of files that tower over his desk are the only traces of disorder in this manic sanctuary. I have the impression of discovering the intimacy of my boss and that... pleases me. Too much.

Mr. Archer still hasn't reacted despite my further intrusion. He hasn't moved and still wears that exhausted, pained face. I can't bear such distress on this usually bewitching face, even if it gives it a touch of new humanity. I decide to break the silence. I entered, I stand straight, standing in front of him, I must now complete my process. The only problem is that you have absolutely no idea where this will lead you... I evade the cynical warning that my brain tries in vain to send me. Instead, I clear my throat lightly to clear my voice and signify my presence at the same time.

-M.. m-sir... Archer? Vv are you... well?

No reaction.

I wait a moment and then decide to slowly reduce the distance between us. As I approach his desk at the speed of a snail at rest, the object of my thoughts takes a long breath and his shoulders slump. This movement has the consequence of ostensibly amplifying the feeling of distress that emanates from him. However, he still offers me no look, I sincerely think that his mind wanders elsewhere than in this room only lit by a small desk lamp. He's not here with me. I, on the other hand, am grounded in reality.

My body offers me a symphony of sensations, each more disturbing than the next. My heartbeats have resumed their mad rush, the one they are now accustomed to undergoing each time my eyes land on the man sitting in front of me. They are quickly joined by my rapid, jerky breathing and my tremors that invade my hands and legs. Maybe this is the only way my body has found to tell me 'you shouldn't be here but you can't be anywhere else'?

I decide to speak again in order to bring him back among us. Finally, among me. With me. Just me.

"Sir... Archer," I whisper in a soft, warm voice. Mr Archer? You hear me ?

This time my words seem to hit the mark and his once frozen eyes begin to twitch slightly. His spirit cuts short his escape and slowly returns to this room. I don't rush him, I let him follow his own rhythm. I watch her beautiful eyes flutter, her head straighten, her sublime rough hands rub her neck and her breathing slowly quicken. Suddenly, he turns his head slightly in my direction and his eyes land on me. His brown irises are always clouded with pain or sadness, I don't know. I have the impression that he only becomes aware of my presence at this moment. His gaze envelops me in a je-ne-sais-quoi, I am unable to define it. All I know is that I gradually recognize the way he looks at me, he comes to himself.