“You’re our only hope,” he says, pressing his hands together in prayer.
I instinctively know if I don’t go back soon it willlooklike I’m hiding, so with huge trepidation, I make my way back to DatStrat to face the music.
Connor and Martin are both on a call when I get there, giving me the perfect excuse not to talk to him. Or so I think.
CONNOR:have you had lunch
ANNIE:Yes
I actually haven’t.
CONNOR:Coffee then
CONNOR:I’ll be off this call in five
ANNIE:Can’t. I’m sitting in on the marketing update
Another lie, but needs must. If he thinks I am going to have a coffee with him while he tells me that it’s best we never kiss again in a kind, managerial way, he can forget it. I log off before he can suggest anything else.
Twenty
I make it another two hours before my luck runs out and I come face-to-face with Connor in the corridor.
He is marching toward me, his determination evident in the length of his stride.
“I need to talk to you.” He’s at my side in the blink of an eye, wrapping his hand around my elbow and turning me around to followhim.
“Now’s really not a great time,” I try to tell him as he frogmarches me back in the direction I just came.
“Too bad.”
He pulls us into the closest available meeting room, which unfortunately, turns out to be the music room.
Why do we evenhavea stupid music room? Despite what its existence suggests, it would absolutely be frowned upon if you got caught in here playing an instrument in the middle of the workday.
It’s a comically inappropriate setting for this conversation. There’s literally a drum set in the middle of the room. My eyes dart frantically around the space for something I can plausibly distract us with, but unless my plan is to start an impromptu jam sesh (which it is not) I have nothing.
Connor is on to me. He has strategically placed himself between me and the door.
“What’s your plan here, Annie, just avoid me for the rest of your life?”
I cross my arms. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“Really? Could have fooledme.”
“It’s been a busy day.”
“Yes, all those fake calls and meetings must have kept you really tiedup.”
“I wasnoton fake calls!”
“I have access to your calendar.”
I hesitate. “I forgot to put themin.”
“Fine,” he says, his tone making it clear he has no further energy to waste on my pointless lies.
“Look, if this is about yesterday, we don’t needto—”
