April Showers [Unfaithful Rewritten]

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When I got to work the next morning, Carter was waiting.

He'd again pulled up a chair to my cubicle, but instead of looking through my drawings (seeing as though they were locked in drawers) he was on his phone, humming to himself. He was clearly dressed to impress — in a crisply pressed navy suit and leather shoes — and his hair was slicked back with so much gel that it was nearly black. This look was nothing new as the interns always had a tendency to overdress, something that usually faded within the week as they stared to comprehend just how quirky the environment of the firm was — and relaxed. It was another one of Mr. Irving's little inside jokes, which was why he was one of the few people who actually looked forward to intern season.

Seeing Carter put a small damper on my mood, but I ignored it as I approached him with a smile on my face. "Good morning, Mr. Green." I greeted.

He peered up at me, and I was struck by just how dark his eyes were. I hadn't taken much note of them the day before, probably due in part to my irritation at the whole situation. But now, they were like chilling pools of chocolate quicksand, swallowing me whole as they crinkled at the corners. "Hi, Mrs. Adams." He replied with a vibrant smile. "How are you?"

Could be better, much better in fact. "I'm doing well, thanks. How about yourself?" I asked as I walked around him to reach my own chair. I plopped down, throwing my coat over the back and setting my bag down on the floor.

"I'm doing great," He said energetically, a little too energetically for my taste at nine in the morning. "Is there anything I can help you with to get set up?"

"Well, actually," I thought for a few moments as I began opening my drawers and pulling out my designs anyways, "A cup of coffee would be good."

"On it." He jumped from his seat and raced towards the break room before I could blink. He had an awkward run, one that made me afraid that he was going to trip over something and fall over. I stared after him, trying hard to bite back my laughter.

Within a few minutes Carter came running back, a bright blush coating his cheeks and an embarrassed smile across his lips. "I forgot to ask what you wanted in your coffee."

I couldn't help a chuckle from slipping out. "One packet of creamer and two sugars, please."

"Okay, now I'm on it." He mumbled shyly before turning and running off again. I shook my head at his antics, but my smile remained prevalent.

* * *

A quite delicious cup of coffee later, Carter and I were hard at work. Or rather I was hard at work while Carter was being very engaging, asking lots of questions. I knew that many people in the architecture industry loved questions, as it was proof that someone was truly interested in what you were doing or what you had to say. From the start I hadn't been one of those people because I found questions distracting, especially easy ones that could've been answered by a quick Google search. So the result of Carter's questions was an unusual dichotomy of enjoyment and annoyance, evenly balanced.

The current project was for a house in Florida, but Mr. Irving hadn't specified who it was for. He never did, rather he preferred to give detailed summary of their character, because "attributes inspire more than names." That may have been very valid, but creating a design on the basis of "highly sophisticated with a pinch of Miami flair" was actually harder than he thought. The foundation of the mansion had come quickly, but now the smallest elements — the tiniest of details that sparked from one's signature — needed to be incorporated. Time was not yet of the essence, but the sparse inspiration I could currently grasp didn't give me much hope.