“One more day. You’ve got this,” Misha groans to herself, closing her work laptop after another busy day.
It’s a welcome distraction from the thoughts in my own head.
“Aww,” I say, making the sound as annoying as possible. “Has someone got the midweek blues?”
“Yes…” she says, but casts her eyes to the ceiling before continuing. “No. It’s Thursday. I’ve got theyay, I have to be back here again tomorrow, blues.”
“Come on, it’s not so bad.” Gathering my things off the table, I slip them into my handbag and join her. “At least you don’t have to worry about losing your weekend to a wedding.”
“I guess. But what am I supposed to do with myself, now I can’t pester you?” A cheeky smile forms on the corner of her lips.
“You can, and I must insist you do.” I don’t know what comes over me, but I say it in a thick and over-the-top, posh British accent.
I join Misha as we leave the little workspace, but a deep groan rolls out of her chest as the door slides open, and we see Dylan’s waiting outside.
“Wonderful, you’re still here.” He’s clearly speaking to me, but his tone leaves a lot to be desired.
There’s no point in being surprised by this shit anymore. If this last week is anything to go by, getting even an ounce of peace from anyone would be an oddity.
“What’s up?” I ask, watching Misha shuffle around Dylan. When she’s moved past him, she turns around with an expression ofno way I’m letting this guy trap me in a cornerand waves goodbye.
Thanks, Mish… Way to take one for the team.
“I’d like to have a word with you in private.” Dylan gestures towards the door with an open palm, obviously suggesting I follow it.
“Has something happened?” I frown, but follow his hand anyway. “My family’s expecting me home in a couple of minutes. A get-together with all of us before the wedding.”
Dylan steps inside and leans against the wall, casually blocking the narrow path to the door.
“I heard about that.” It’s as if he was just waiting to get me alone, and the serious sting in his tone abates. He must have used it to lure me here, and now he can go about his business in his usual friendly way.
“Need a plus one?”
For fuck’s sake, this is getting ridiculous.
Take the fucking hint that I’m not, and will never be, interested in going out with you.
“I appreciate the offer, Dyl, but not this one. It’s a private affair. Misha didn’t get an invite, and she’s pretty much family.” I manage to hide my bubbling temper behind a calm voice.
It’s a little too calm. As if my thought from before is actually true, and I’m becoming numb to these impromptu and unwanted distractions.
His jaw tenses and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, while a vein throbs visibly in his forehead. He’s annoyed. Well, that serves him right for trying to barge into everything I do, unannounced.
“But what is it you came here to talk about?” I say, keeping things professional.
“Look, Lil, I’m trying to be nice—“
“I understand. And like I said, appreciate i—“
“Don’t interrupt me,” he cuts me off from cutting him off. With that, his eyes open again.
If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. No, scratch that, I’d be way further down.
“I’ve been tasked with finding redundancies in this department.” He’s cold. Flat. Speaking as if he actually came here for business, rather than to ask me out again. “It’s come to our attention that there are too many employees for the workload, and we’d rather see the money go to a better cause.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, hoping it isn’t what I think it is. “Shouldn’t you be conducting an internal investigation?Quietly. So, there isn’t any foul play in who gets fired?”
He crosses his arms and ignores the question. “I’d genuinely hate for it to be you.”
