Accidentally Amy

by Lynn Painter

By the time she finally got inside her apartment and kicked off her shoes, she was ready for a lot of inactivity. Because her day, in and of itself, had been a LOT. She changed into her pajamas (yes, at 6:10pm), grabbed a Diet Coke and went into the living room, where the McDonalds bag was now soggy and grease-stained in the bottom of her purse.

Izzy kind of thought yes, but she’d always been into administrative red tape; as a kid, Businesswoman With Many Files was her absolute favorite game of pretend.

It wasn’t that she was doing anything unusual or wrong, it was that she looked so unbelievably at home. Like she belonged there.

Izzy: You're not the boss of me. Blake: I am quite literally the boss of you.

But when the color-coded chart opened and he looked at his division, his ears started buzzing. Human Resources had shifted, and that department no longer reported to him. When the elevator doors opened, Blake sprinted to his car.

“Change of plans, Phillips?” "Yeah." He ran a thumb over her cheek and said, “I want to take you out.”

But the thing of it was, he really liked Iz. He liked being friends with her, regardless of the shape of her body (perfect) and the pretty of her face. He liked the smell of her hair and the way her nose squinched when she grinned, but he loved her smartass fuckery even more.

“I don’t have a lot to work with upstairs, so I’m all about comfort. Jog bras and bralettes are my jam.”

“Do you want more wine?” he asked. “No, thank you.” “Do you want to go?” “Yes, please.”

She hadn’t known him long enough to know if he was worthy of sharing her favorite banana bread, much less her heart.

He’d taken her shopping to try and help her forget about her joblessness, and then he’d called all of his nerdy friends to meet them for day-drinking.

I have pizza, McDonalds, flowers, a six-pack, a gallon of chocolate ice cream, a bottle of wine, your better-than-new running car, and a thousand apologies. If you’ll let me come in, I’ll give you all of it.