To Color Your Life

"What are you doing here?" asked the editor-in-chief, clearly surprised at such a meeting with his subordinate.

"I'm sitting," Emily said the first thing that came to mind.

Gregor Barkens glanced over her light dress, clearly not suitable for a cool evening, bare feet, "And why are you sitting here?"

Apparently, along with the relief from the thought that the wolf turned out to be the one she at least is familiar with, not only did Emily feel relaxed, but her brain also had a great sense of relief. Otherwise, why did her answers sound like the ravings of a nutcase?

"I just... I got lost."

Yeah, I was going to my grandmother through the forest and lost my way.

"Should I take you home?" Barkens' face was, as usual, without a shadow of emotion - as smooth and calm as a wax mask. Only the eyes sometimes became a little wider, then a little narrower. A snake would be a perfect one word to describe him.

Emily took a quick glance at the crowd of bikers that stood in the road. They watched their friend with interest. The light at the traffic light had long since changed to green and back to red, but the motors of the formidable metal horses rumbled quietly as if they also wanted to hear what the conversation was about.

Emily nodded. Losing such an opportunity would be the last nonsense. And she's done enough of crazy things today. It is unlikely that the editor-in-chief will inflame with unexpected interest about her persona and bring her to a dark forest to eat there. Although he might have his reasons for this.

The girl quickly pulled on her shoes, winced in unpleasant pain. For the next couple of weeks, I will only wear sneakers, Emily decided. No heels.

Trying not to limp, she hurried after Barkens, who was already walking back to his motorcycle.

"Roy, throw in the second helmet here!" he shouted to one of his friends.

A plumpy man with a red beard, looking like a huge grizzly bear, pulled a helmet from the trunk of his motorcycle and tossed it to Barkens. "Wow, guys, take a look! Bark is going to give a ride to some cutie, not to any of your drunken asses!"

"Wow Miss, don't forget to give him at least a kiss!" the other man laughed.

"Come on, huh," Barkens said in an even and calm tone, but everyone heard him, "This is Miss Hayes, my colleague. And let's go without ambiguous jokes. She has a boyfriend."

"I don't have any boyfriend," Emily answered quietly, took the helmet from Gregor's hand, and put it on her head.

"You don't? I thought that-" the editor-in-chief fell silent in mid-sentence, noticing how the girl became sad. "Okay. Sit down."

For some time he watched Emily's attempts to climb on the motorcycle, then he could not stand it, grabbed her by the waist, and sat her down himself.

"You could tell right away that your feet were chafed, I would have pulled the bike closer," the man muttered.

Emily lowered her gaze, "Sorry." The severity of the experienced emotions somehow covered her at once. As if before that her mind was kept in case of an emergency, and now, feeling safe, she surrendered from the overexertion.

Barkens sat down, removed the girl's shoe from the foot, and examined the wound. "I thought you were a smart girl, Miss Hayes. How can you torture your feet like that?" the man shook his head, removed the second shoe from Emily's leg, and threw them into the trunk of his motorcycle.

Emily thought she was smart too, but it turned out she wasn't. The resentment and pain held back all day began to break out.

She jerked her leg as the man's cold fingers accidentally touched her skin. "Sorry. Did I hurt you? These are warm socks, they are clean, don't worry. In any case, it's better than riding barefoot or wearing these shoes." Barkens put men's socks on her feet, which he took from the same trunk where he had put her shoes earlier.

Clean warm men's socks. Emily sobbed. Tears streamed down her cheeks and did not want to stop.

"Miss Hayes?" the man was confused.

"Sorry, it's… it's just… what is it, my goodness," she wiped the tears from her eyes as they kept running and running.

"Bark, what's there? Are you coming with us or what?" said a grizzly bear with a red beard.

"Two minutes!" Gregor answered him and took off his jacket, "Put this on to keep warm."

Emily obediently slipped her frozen hands into the sleeves of his jacket. It was warm from the man's body. It is even strange that a thin-looking editor-in-chief could have such a hot body. Emily was grateful.

For this warmth, for help, for the fact that he did not ask questions and did not try to meddle in her situation. Gregor Barkens acted the same as when they met in the office, cold and detached. But it didn't make Emily feel uncomfortable now.

To many, he resembled a snake (external sharp features confirmed the associations), but now he seemed to Emily not a cold-blooded viper, but a calm, wise python, as in the tale of Mowgli, the jungle boy.

She didn't even notice how she stopped crying.

"Miss Hayes?" the man asked, and Emily raised her red eyes to him.

"Yes?"

"Do you really need to go home now?"

"Of cour-" she almost answered and thought. Does she need to go home? What will she do there? Alone with her thoughts. And if Evans decides to call or, God forbid, come, will she be able to tell him anything? She wasn't sure.

She had neither the strength nor the desire to meet with the boss now. Just not today.

The girl shook her head, "No, I don't."

"I thought so," the man replied thoughtfully, climbed onto the motorcycle, and put on his helmet.

"The plan stays the same! Let's meet at the point!" he shouted to the others, and the crowd of motors rumbled in unison.

The traffic light turned green.

"Miss Hayes, you have already answered this question, but I will clarify again. Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

Emily chuckled bitterly, "No, Mr. Barkens. I'm definitely not pregnant." And I'm unlikely to be in the next few years.

The man nodded, satisfied with her answer. He snapped his helmet shut and turned the throttle. "Then hold on tight. We're gonna have a joyride now. I hope you are not afraid of high speeds?"

"No," she replied.

Not anymore.