Since childhood I’d always tried to separate work from my private life. Only rarely did the two spheres meet. Emily proved to be a rare outlier as both a colleague and my best friend.

Any other time those worlds collided, rampant social anxiety would make me retreat. It felt wrong. As though work was trying to encroach upon my free time like a treacherous spy lurking in the shadows.

In the US, companies often blurred the boundaries between work and play but forbade coworkers from forming romantic attachments. To be fair, they caused more problems than they solved. People in management seemed to think: "Work together; play together--but not too much."

Such a strange outlook. Keep the two worlds separate. Job done.

On the rare occasion I did meet a boss or colleague outside of work, I prayed they wouldn’t see me. Or, even worse, talk to me. Yet they always did because social etiquette dictated it, no matter how badly both sides wanted to avoid meeting.

Whoever had designed those rules were sadists. Or masochists. Or both.

With all that in mind, one might imagine my utter dismay once I'd waltzed up to the bar at Flaming Tamales. After ordering two giant frozen margaritas, I turned and spotted…

Him.

In a corner booth Neil sat amid a group of middle-aged nerds who would all fit in at a sci-fi convention or a physics symposium better than the Flaming Tamales happy hour. Laughing and joking with friends, he nursed a pint of beer and hunched over fantasy role-playing game paraphernalia. He rolled a twenty-sided die when his turn began.

No. Freaking. Way.

It felt like The Big Bang Theory had sprung to life before my eyes. Albeit with different characters. The group consisted of a burly, bug-eyed genius bemoaning the campaign design, a soft-spoken teddy bear running the game as dungeon master, an athletic rogue dressed all in black who insisted on stabbing all of the orcs before they’d even entered the room, and a clever strategist embedding his next move in a web of creative storytelling.

Neil's business persona had all but vanished. If it hadn’t been for his resting neutral face and warm brown eyes, I might not have recognized him at all. Sporting a five o’clock shadow, Neil adjusted his glasses in a way that made my heart perform a complex series of hooble-de-flips.

To complete the transformation, he wore the nerdiest T-Shirt, with a scene from the Order of the Stick webcomic featuring the necromancer Xylon next to an orc. It proudly displayed the following quote: “Sacrificing minions! Is there any problem it can’t solve?”

Yeah, damn it! How about my heart palpitations?

Neil Frost hadn’t simply appeared in my private sphere--he’d already nestled himself inside a compatible one. Long before I’d arrived. It would only take a single brave moment to enter his private world and give ourselves a reason to draw closer.

Should I go to them? Introduce myself?

But what if Neil wanted to keep his spheres separate too?

He was my client, after all.

Neil Frost the Accountant? I could resist him with a decent amount of effort.

But Neil Frost the Nerd? He could be my downfall.

“Two frozen margaritas, one salt, one sugar,” the bartender declared.

Armed with a marg in each hand, I turned to face the gaming group. My heart thudded. My body trembled slightly on the inside. In the face of crippling social anxiety, I made what might have been a bad call.

No, don't disturb them. Go away before he notices you.

As though Neil had heard my thoughts, he turned his head to the side.

Oh, gosh! Oh, Lord! Oh, please, don’t--

Too late.

Our eyes locked.

His lips parted. Did he want to speak? If so, no words came out.

At that moment I stopped dead like a frightened rabbit in front of a hunter holding a shotgun. Looking like a crazy-ass alcoholic with a giant cocktail in each hand, I spilled some of the freezing cold mixture onto my wrist. Some dribbled onto the floor.

"I'm so sorry!” I said to a nearby server.

"Don’t worry," they said. "I'll clean it."

Not exactly my finest moment.

That gave me the jolt of adrenaline I needed to hurry the hell outta there. Like a foolish teenager in front of her schoolgirl crush. Because that was how normal, mature, adult women acted at the age of thirty-two.

Jeez Louise in a handbasket!

As I left, one of them said, “Do you guys know each other? Why don’t you invite her to play?”

And this, ladies and gentlemen, was why I should have locked myself in a room and never faced the world. Because I couldn't talk to people unless it was task focused or in the workplace.

Online? Yes. Real life? Hellz nah.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Why don’t you talk to him? Ya know, like a normal person?

Rushing back to Emily, I found her waiting patiently while scrolling on her phone. Thankfully our table might as well have been in another time zone, far away from Neil and his pals.

Emily’s smile melted into genuine concern. “Shit, Vee! What’s wrong?”

“He’s here!” I hissed, spilling a bit more of the drink as I set it down. “I can’t believe it.”

“Oh my God!” She covered her mouth and grabbed her purse. “Your ex? Let’s pay and go before he makes a scene.”

“No, not him.”

She furrowed her brow and sat back down. “Then who?”

“Neil!”

“Neil who?”

“Are you kidding me?” I hissed. “Neil Frost.”

Emily's eyes twinkled. “They must have changed venues for game night.”

“Game night? How well do you know this guy?” I asked, scooting across the bench.

She raised a brow. “After you married The Leech, I didn’t have a gaming pal anymore, so I joined a local group. Met Neil. That’s how I got into networking.”

“Jesus…”

Emily curled her lip. “Is it such a problem? You got along well last time.”

“It’s not a problem.” I drew myself straight. “I didn’t expect it. That’s all.”

"Do you like him?" She flashed a knowing smile. “We could join them, you know. His gaming pals are lots of fun.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” I whispered. “Neil’s a client.”

Emily pondered the question for a second. “Technically, his company is…”

“Still, he’s my main point of contact.”

“What’s the big deal?” She shrugged. “You’re both professionals on equal footing. There’s no conflict of interest. You’re separated. If you like him, why not tell him?”

“You’ve been in the UK too long.”

“That’s rich coming from the woman who apologizes for almost bumping into people.”

I pushed her frozen margarita closer. “Let’s drink before it completely melts.”

“Liquid courage, I like it.” She grinned. “Drink a couple of those, and we’ll have you gaming with Neil in no time.”

“Emily!”

She cackled and grasped the stem.

Lifting my own glass, I offered a toast. “Thank you for pushing me in the right direction and helping me get a new client.”

She raised hers in turn. “Time to turn you into a dwarven warrior who falls for a certain elven man.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

With a devious grin Emily clinked her cocktail glass against mine.

___

Word count: 1,230
Total word count: 8,649

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