Johnson

Eleven

Monday came around much too fast for his liking.

He had stayed holed up in his house for the entire weekend, not even daring to go to the gym lest he bump into Ally. He had said that he would call her on Monday, and he wasn't going to talk to her one minute earlier than that.

He knew what he was going to do. What he had to do.

It was what he wanted.

He was going to ask Ally if she wanted to be his mate.

Just watching the hours tick past until the work day was over had his stomach in knots; the thought of picking up the phone and calling her making him jumpy.

He wouldn't be able to ask such a serious question over the phone though. He'd tell her that he was coming over to her house, pick up some flowers on the way there and then pop the question, face to face.

Both of them were much too old to skirt around the issue now. At this stage of their lives, it was either mate or don't mate- there was no good reason to waste time.

Thankfully he could mentally prepare in peace, because for once Eliot wasn't at work and he had the whole room to himself.

He was so used to hearing Eliot's voice, the bored comments and the grumblings about going to take a smoke break, that he felt half paranoid for most of the day, continuously looking over his shoulder.

It was almost eerie to think that one day, he was going to walk into work smelling mated, and Eliot would finally be forced to stop gloating about being the only one to have a mate.

He couldn't say he wasn't looking forward to that.

The smile that had unknowingly touched his face dropped off as he realised who he was going to be mated to; how many more uncomfortable family dinners he was going to be subject to suffer through.

It would be worth it though, his happiness being put above the opinions of his father.

He was happy. He told himself. He was.

He liked Ally.

Ally liked him.

They got on well together and she smelt nice and everything was going to be just fine.

He told himself that he wasn't getting cold feet. And if he was, it was normal considering that his life was about to totally change.

Lifting his head, he peered over his desk and to the clock on the wall. Time had gone faster than anticipated and he was officially off the clock.

All he had to do was finish the rest of his spreadsheet, which wouldn't take more than five minutes, and then he could leave.

Getting back to his work, and focusing intently on the numbers, he only half-listened to the noise outside of the room as his colleagues said their goodbyes and left.

Absently groaning, he tried to work that little bit faster. He hated when he was the last one at the office. Locking up was a pain.

When he inhaled, a familiar scent caught his nose and caused him to freeze in place, eyes almost bugging out of his head.

No, no, no.

In a moment of panic, he hit save on his document and started packing his things away, uncaring if it meant he was going to have to catch up on late work the next morning.

He could not see Summer right now.

His movements were jerky, impatient as he waited for the document to finish saving. The piece of junk computer took ages, the blue progress bar seemingly stuck right in the middle.