That night, he talked to me for a long time. He told me he was from a small town in the Midwest, had been in Graystone City for five years, spent three of those years coding before getting promoted to team lead last year. He told me he had a cat named Deuce, because of the two stripes on its tail.
He told me he wasn't great with people, which was why he was still single.
When he said that last part, he was looking right at me.
I dropped my gaze and pretended I didn't catch his meaning.
In September, the company landed a big project. Overtime became the norm.
One night past ten, I was the last one out. The elevator doors opened, and Valentine was inside.
"This late?" he asked.
"You're here this late too."
He smiled. "I live upstairs. Whether I'm working overtime or not, I leave around this time anyway."
The elevator descended. Floor by floor, neither of us spoke.
When we reached the lobby, I stepped out. He followed.
"Hey," he called after me. "Where do you live?"
I gave him the general area.
"That's pretty far. The subway's done running by now. How are you getting home?"
"I'll grab a cab."
He checked his phone. "Cabs are hard to get this late. Want me to give you a ride?"
"I'm fine."