There was a dusty brown “L” mark, as if its removal was making a statement.
As if I’d never existed.
“What happened to my spot?” I asked aloud.
No one answered.
“Hello?” I raised my voice. “What’s happened to my spot?”
“Mr. Cross had someone take it away half an hour ago,” someone whispered. “He said to tell you to come see him ASAP.”
“Fine.” I should’ve taken a walk first, but I didn’t bother.
When I reached the top floor, Mr. Cross was holding a tray of coffee.
“I was just thinking about you, Miss Stone.” He smiled. “I figured you might want some fresh coffee for whenever you returned from your therapy appointment.”
I gritted my teeth.
“How did it go, by the way?” he asked. “Are you feeling better?”
“I’m much worse.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he said. “Perhaps you need to appreciate what you have instead of complaining about it to strangers or trying to get away from me.”
“Everyone here wants to get the hell away from you,” I said. “Do you honestly think people are happy here?”
His smile faded, and he set the tray on a bookshelf.
“Thanks for taking my cubicle away, by the way,” I said. “I appreciate you removing my one place of refuge from your tyranny.”
“Okay, Miss Stone,” he said, “I need you to spoil the gist of our story right now.”
“What?” I asked. “Stop talking in metaphors.”
“How much longer do I have to put up with your smart-ass mouth?” He glared at me. “Better yet, do you honestly expect me to continue not doing anything about it?”
I swallowed, unsure of how to answer his questions.
“Surely you don’t think I’ll let your slippery little words continue without some severe consequences.” He trailed his thumb against my bottom lip. “I’m warning you—stop testing me.”
My brain stopped functioning under his touch.
“Can you do that?” he asked, his voice low.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
“Excuse me?” He dropped his hand, stunned.
“You make it your personal mission to make me feel like I don’t really matter here, so if you can’t handle a few sarcastic words here or there, that’s on you.”
He clenched his jaw.
“It’s also a ‘boundary’ for me,” I said. “I get to talk to you how I want because you speak to me how you want.”
I felt heat radiate off him, but I was done being small around him.
“Anyway,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you just continued acting like you don’t really see me or give a damn, so we can keep it moving.”
