“You can’t get in trouble if lunch runs late with a boss.”
She gazes up at me. “What are you proposing?”
I use my finger to shut down her laptop. “Lunch?”
She considers for half a beat, then nods. “Okay, I can do that. I am kind of hungry.”
I tip my head toward the elevators. “Come on. I know a place.”
She stands, grabs her bag, and falls into step next to me.
We head out of the building and down the block. There’s a little sandwich shop tucked behind the security kiosk, some sort of holdover from before the neighborhood went all-in on artisanal pizza and microbrews. We snag a window seat. I cantell she’s surprised, maybe relieved, that this is not some sort of meeting or test.
Nope. That’s not how I do things. It’sjustlunch.
She surveys the menu for a few moments, finally landing on a BLT. I get the grilled cheese and fries.
“Are you… vegetarian?” she asks, glancing at the order slip. I can tell she’s worried she missed something about me that she should know—an allergy, a dietary restriction, maybe a philosophical alignment—that could get her in trouble down the line.
Still worried about work.
I shake my head. “I just could eat nothing but bread and cheese, and I’d die a happy man.”
She laughs, and it’s easy as she holds my gaze. “You’re not what I expected.”
“I hear that a lot.”
We sip our drinks and watch people pass outside. She drums her fingers on the table, a restless energy that seems to always be there. I wonder what it would take to get her to stop and just be still.
I have a few ideas. But none are appropriate.
So, I start with safe conversation. “How are you liking the system so far?”
“I think I broke three rules just this morning,” she says, “but your interface is weirdly resilient. I mean, I almost crashed the database, but I figured it out.”
I nod, impressed. “That’s better than most. First time I ran a live deploy, I brought the entire office server down for an hour.”
“Did Adrian flip out?” she asks, with genuine curiosity.
“Absolutely,” I burst into laughter. “But it turns out, if you fix the problem quickly, he keeps his mouth shut and increases your next quarterly bonus.”
She widens her eyes. “That’ll work.”
I note that her posture is looser now. She gestures as she talks and smiles alot. I can tell she still has some major walls up, but it just drives my curiosity. Maddy Williams is so fucking intriguing, and she has no idea.
When our food arrives, I nudge the basket of fries toward her. “Help yourself.”
She eyes them, then shrugs and grabs one, popping it into her mouth. “These are incredible,” she says as she chews, and immediately goes for another.
“I like this version of you,” I blurt out, before I realize how it sounds.
She freezes, caught off guard. “As opposed to…?”
“The one who looks like she’s about to get a pop quiz at any moment,” I say. “You don’t have to be on all the time. And Adrian comes across like the biggest dickhead you’ve ever met, but he’s mostly bark, as long as you’re doing your job.”
Her eyes flick away, then back to me. “You know, you’re easier to talk to than most people. Most men.” She says the last part so quietly I almost miss it.
“Is that a compliment?” I tease, and she nods.
