Page 12 of He Sees You When You’re Sleeping
Chapter Five
Chloe
It takes me a minute to recognize him. It’s not like I wouldn’t be able to spot him in the office setting, but at my house? Standing on my porch? “Tyler?”
He nods, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “Hey, Chloe. I, uh... I hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced like this.”
I blink, still processing the sight of the VP of marketing on my doorstep. “How did you know where I lived?”
St. George is nowhere near the office in Manhattan, so there is no way this is a “just in the neighborhood” type of situation.
Tyler’s gaze darts away, and he rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh... I may have looked it up the address in your contract. I know that’s probably crossing a line, but I really wanted to talk to you the last time you were in the office, but you rushed out and...”
A mixture of curiosity and unease floods in. Tyler and I have always been friendly at work, but we’ve never hung out outside the office. What could be so urgent that he’d track down my home address?
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my brow furrowing with concern.
“Oh yes, everything is fine. It’s just that,” he swallows hard. “well... the company holiday party is coming up and I was thinking.”
My stomach tightens. Is he about to ask me out? To the company party, of all places?
“Tyler,” I start, ready to let him down gently, but he holds up a hand.
“I know you don’t really do Christmas and all. Sloane told me why and... I’m sorry for that. But well...” His face is so red that I can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or the cold. “I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?” Tyler blurts out, his words tumbling over each other.
The chilly December air nips at my exposed skin, but I barely notice it. My mind is reeling, trying to process Tyler’s unexpected invitation.
“I... I don’t know what to say,” I stammer, genuinely caught off guard. It’s true that I’ve avoided the company holiday party ever since my parents—well ever since. The idea of facing all those festive decorations, the forced cheer, makes my chest tighten.
But Tyler’s earnest expression and the hint of hope in his eyes makes me hesitate.
He must sense my reluctance because he quickly adds, “It doesn’t have to be a date or anything. I just thought... maybe if you had someone to go with, it might be easier. And I promise, no mistletoe or cheesy Christmas carols.”
“Look,” I say, softening my tone, “I appreciate the offer, I really do. But I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”
Tyler nods, his shoulders slumping slightly. I feel bad. He seems like a nice guy, I suppose. I mean... I wouldn’t really know. I’ve only seen him at work, but I do feel bad considering he came all the way to my house. He’s not bad looking. In fact, he’s quite handsome in a smart accountant sort of way, with his tousled brown hair and warm hazel eyes. I find myself reconsidering, almost against my will. But then I remind myself that guys like Tyler simply don’t do it for me.
Too nice. Too straitlaced.
I’m not exactly looking for the bad boy. In fact, I don’t want that either. But I do want someone who can challenge me, someone with a bit of an edge. Someone who doesn’t follow all the rules.
Someone who has the same sexual interests as me.
And something about Tyler tells me that the man likes his coffee very vanilla.
“I appreciate you coming all this way, Tyler,” I say, trying to soften the rejection. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Tyler nods, his disappointment evident but not surprising. “I understand. I’m sorry for bothering you at home like this.”
As he turns to leave, a gust of wind whips down the street, rustling the bare branches of the trees lining my sidewalk. The cold air bites at my exposed skin, and I find myself calling out before I can stop myself.
“Wait, Tyler. Do you... do you want to come in for a cup of coffee? It’s freezing out here.”
His eyes light up, and for a moment, I regret the invitation. But it’s too late now, and besides, it’s just coffee. What harm could it do?
As I lead him into my small living room, I notice how out of place he looks. His crisp button-down shirt and pressed slacks seem at odds with my eclectic decor and the general lived-in feel of my space.
“Nice place,” he says, his eyes roaming over the abstract art on my walls and the collection of vintage vinyl records that belonged to my father stacked in the corner.