Bull Market and Baby Greens

Elena hated how the fluorescent lights caught the spinach stuck in Marcus's teeth during the Wednesday all-hands. She should tell him—she'd known him three months, shared coffee breaks, that one disastrous happy hour where she'd almost kissed him in the Uber. But she couldn't stop staring at that tiny green fragment while the CEO, a man everyone called The Bull for his ruthless tactics and habit of charging through meetings like he owned the room, droned on about Q4 projections.

"Swimming in revenue streams," he said, gesturing with his forbidden cigar like he didn't care about rules or boundaries. Marcus nodded beside her, his profile so painfully sincere that Elena's chest tightened. She'd spent thirty-three years swimming upstream—through expectations, through conversations where men talked over her, through relationships that withered when she refused to be smaller, quieter, less convenient.

After the meeting, Marcus caught her by the elevators. "Coffee?"

"The Bull wants the deck by two."

"He's not that bad. Just... passionate."

"He called me 'emotional' yesterday when I pointed out the data inconsistency."

Marcus winced. "Yeah, that was—I was going to say something, but you seemed to have it handled. You always do."

The elevator arrived empty. They stepped in together, silence stretching until Marcus touched her arm. "You've got something..." He gestured to his own teeth.

Elena laughed, something loosening in her chest. "And you didn't tell me? Some friend you are."

"I didn't want to embarrass you," he said, so gently she almost forgot they were at work, almost forgot there were deadlines and Bull bosses and ten other reasons this was a terrible idea.

"I've got spinach in my teeth, don't I?"

Marcus grinned. "Since 9 AM. I was waiting for the right moment."

"Bold strategy."

"I'm working up to something bigger," he said, and the way he looked at her made her think he wasn't talking about spinach anymore.

The elevator dinged. Their floor. Real life waiting.

"Marcus?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, just tell me. I'd rather know."

He nodded. "Noted."

Later that afternoon, when The Bull called her into his office to mansplain her own presentation back to her, she found herself thinking about spinach, about waiting for the right moment, about how some things needed to be said even when the timing was wrong. She looked him in the eye and said, "I think you're missing the point," and walked out while he was still sputtering.

Outside, Marcus was waiting by the elevators. "I heard," he said. "Rumors travel fast in this fishbowl. Swimming upstream again?"

"Sometimes," he said, "you've got to learn to love the current." He paused. "Dinner? Somewhere without spinach?"

Elena smiled, really smiled, for the first time in months. "I'd like that."