As we drive down Fifth Street, Cliff keeps fiddling with the gears, radio, and AC in complete overkill, like he’s operating an airplane. But I can’t blame him for being nervous; last time we took this drive, our faces ended up smooshed together.
“So,” Cliff begins with a huff, breaking the silence, “the experts claim that letting someone go on a Monday leads to fewer incidents.”
“It’s good you did it today, then.”
A tiny chortle escapes from us both at the same time. Our eyes shift together, our equilibrium teasingly close to returning.
“Wanna know something fucked up?” Cliff says, half smiling. “After letting someone go, I pretend they died. That’s easier to deal with for some reason.”
“That’s really sweet, Cliff.” And I pull his thermos from the cup holder in the console and hold it forward. “To Larry, may he rest in peace.”
This time he allows himself to fully grin. But he drops it quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay, Jolene?” It’s the way his brows knit together, the sorrow in his eyes, that clues me in that he’s not just talking about Larry.
“I’m fine.” The unease builds in me, heavy and draining. I just want Cliff back. “Are you okay? I mean after that.”
The edge of his jaw is bright red beneath his long stubble where Larry clocked him. I lift a hand to—I don’t know, gesture toward it, touch it, I’m not sure—and then pull it back down just as quickly. He notices the motion and his temples pinken.
“Yeah. It’s all part of the job.” He tilts his head toward me and smiles wide to show it doesn’t hurt. But I can see the face he keeps inside himself.
“I don’t think all of that was part of the job. Or was full mooning part of your HR training?”
“It was an elective,” he jokes, but his knuckles whiten on the gear shift. “I’ve been at this for a while now and I should get used to it, but sometimes the guilt builds up and it’s hard to dispel. I can’t shake it off even though I know I’m supposed to.”
His words pull through me like a string, tightening everything inside. “You don’t have to shake it off. Guilt is heavy.” And maybe it’s because of everything today, or because everything feels surreal after Larry, but I say the words that I never thought I’d say out loud. “It can change you forever.”
“That’s the problem.” Cliff’s voice is tighter. “Jolene, what happened between us—what happened . . . that was unfair of me. Today it’s abundantly clear that I’m an HR guy that has the power to let people go. And that means I was out of line with you.”
A knot pulls taut in my chest. “What? Cliff, no. I’m an adult. And you’re not just HR, remember? We’re friends.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll get you another HR guy, have them assign you someone else.”
“Are you serious?” My breath halts. “It was my mistake. I’m the one who kissed you. And you said we could forget it! We were doing so good just now, cheering to Larry’s demise.”
Cliff stares forward. “I kissed you just as much. It wouldn’t be fair to jeopardize your career—”
I cut him off. “I’m only doing good in that course because of you.” His gaze softens on me. “You’re the only one who wanted to give me a chance. You know what getting me reassigned will do. It’s as good as setting me up to be fired.”
His eyes flash at the truth of my words. We stop at a light, the red hue painting his cheeks. He taps the turn signal and it begins to tick, counting down the seconds of our time together. “I just . . . It feels wrong for me to keep—”
I nudge him, the warmth from his arm pulling through me. “You said in this car we’re friends, right?”
Cliff nods but keeps his eyes on the windshield as he continues down the street.
“So be my friend right now.” My arm is still resting against his. I pull it back into my lap. “And be HR in there. We can keep things separate. You’ve really helped me. More than anyone.”
The car halts at another light. Cliff exhales and his eyes draw toward me. “Okay,” he says and nods. “Yeah.”
“Thank you,” I croak.
He nudges me this time. More warmth rushes through me, pulling into the tips of my ears. Will touching him ever become casual? Is there a world where it won’t send sparks through me?
He stares at me like he’s trying to figure something out, then shakes his head. “Thanks, Jolene. Being able to at least talk this out with you—I just . . .” He swallows. “At least we have trust going for us. That means a lot.”
I want to accept the comfort of his words, but the guilt tugs at me. I’m so far from the person he sees. And between Armin and Caitlin, my house of cards is threatening to crumble.
As it turns out, being busted by Armin and seeing a grown man’s raw butt cheeks aren’t the worst things that can happen in a day.