A chorus of "aww's" fills the room as Mike sits back down, still shaking his head. Everyone returns to their normal conversation, Sarah and Lana gossiping.
"So Katie," Lana says after awhile. "Are you seeing anybody?"
I snap up, realizing I'm being spoken to. I feel Oliver and Dylan's eyes on me.
"Uh, yeah," I say.
"Ooh," Sarah says, nudging me. "Who's the guy?"
"His...his name's James," I say, blushing. "He's a medical intern."
"Wow," Lana says. "Sounds hot."
"Yeah," I say. "He's really great."
"Only an intern?" I look up to see Dylan's teasing glare on me.
"He's putting himself through med school," I defend James.
"And how old is he?" Dylan crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, taunting me with his deep green eyes.
"He's...he's twenty."
"A little young for you, yes?"
"No."
"Three years age difference."
"How would you know?" I snap.
Dylan smirks. "Have you forgotten that I'm an accountant?"
I clench my jaw. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"I had your file on my desk this morning," he says, playing with the top of his soda can. "I had to set up your account with the company." He meets my gaze teasingly. "I know more about you than you think."
I stand from the table. "I think I'm just going to get back to work," I tell Sarah, Oliver and Lana. I toss the rest of my salad in the trash.
I know more about you than you think.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
I decide I need some air and ride the elevator down to the lobby. I still have twenty minutes of lunch so I decide to call James.
I stand outside in the small courtyard in the back of the building. I dial James's number and run a hand through my hair, the cool Edinburgh air soothing my fiery temper.
"Katie, I wasn't expecting your call," James answers. "Aren't you at work?"
"It's my lunch break," I tell him. "I just felt like talking to you."
"Oh." A pause. "So...how's it going?"
"Alright. I mean, I love the job, but--"
"Katie, babe, I wish I could talk longer, but there's a man with an inflamed appendix here--"
"Right. Sorry. I'll catch up with you later."
I hang up. Wasn't he on call last night? Why should he have to work today, too?
It's a demanding job, I remind myself. He'll make time for you. Good things happen to those who wait.
I sit down on a small bench off to the side and watch the gardener mow the patch of grass. The smell of freshly cut grass invades my senses. I've always liked the fresh scent.
I hear the click of high heels on pavement and look up to see Jade, one of the other editors, smiling down at me.
"Hi, Katie?" Her voice is sweet. "Lunch break is almost over, and I saw you storm out of there."
I stand. "Sorry."
"No, don't apologize. Dylan is a real piece of work at times. Don't mind him."
As we walk back inside together, I notice that dark blue hair really suits her, where on some other people it would just look out of place.
"Why is he so rude?" I ask her.
She shrugs. "I don't know him too well," she says. "But it's always a bit funny to watch him stick it to the boss. It's not that I don't like Mr. Morris, but sometimes he's a bit stuffy."
I nod. "I see."
"I'm sorry you have to sit so close to him, though. The only reason why Oliver doesn't switch desks is because he's friends with Dylan." Jade shrugs. "I'm sure if you talked to Mr. Morris, he'd let you move workspaces."
I shake my head. "No, it's only the first day. I'm sure I'll be fine."
We ride the elevator up. I've managed to keep it a secret that Dylan and I are neighbors. I wonder if he's told anyone? I hope not. I don't need some sort of rumor to fly among the office.
I sit back at my desk and do my best to ignore Dylan's smirks. He spins in his chair and stares at the ceiling for the rest of the day, not seeming to do an ounce of work.
At four o'clock, I gather my things and walk out with Oliver.
"Where is your place at?" Oliver asks me.
"A few blocks down," I answer. "I wanted a place in the Pearl."
"Ah," Oliver says.
"What about you?"
"I'm up in Forest Heights," Oliver replies. "I guess it's not too long of a drive, and the expenses are lower over there."
I nod. "I heard Forest Heights is really nice."
"Yeah, they've got a lot of parks. It's a nice place to read, I guess." He stops walking at a grey car. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow," he says, unlocking the car. "It was nice meeting you, Katie."
"You, too," I say, smiling. I'm glad Oliver and I hit it off so well. I make my way to my own car. I hope I don't run into Dylan at our building. If I had known we would be neighbors, I would never have moved into that apartment.
I walk into my apartment, tossing my keys onto the couch. My first day was great on some levels, but tedious on others. Maybe Jade is right. Maybe I should request a different workspace.
I've always been a tolerant person. I don't like confrontations, and I don't like fighting. I sigh and begin to make myself dinner.
At around eight, there's a knock at my door. I turn off the TV and go to answer.
I clench my jaw at Dylan's presence. How many times do I have to run into him in a day?
"What?" I snap.
"Whoa there," he says. "No need to PMS."
I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. "What do you want?"
"Your mail got put in my box," he says, handing me a stack of letters. "Don't let it happen again."
"How is this my fault?" I ask, taking the letters. "I'm not the one that put them there."
"Yeah, well you moved in here!" He snaps.
I don't waste any time as I slam the door in his face, with lack of a better comeback.
I throw my mail onto the couch. I decide to go to bed early. All of Dylan's antics are beginning to drive me crazy. At work he was taunting me, and now he's just plain out rude. I don't think I've ever seen him smile if it wasn't teasing or taunting.
I turn out the light and bury myself in blankets. I hope every day isn't as stressful as this one.
Chapter Five
I walk into Mr. Morris's office Wednesday afternoon and put the edited manuscript down on his desk. He takes it into his hands, a shocked look on his face.
"Wow, Katie," he says. "I didn't expect you to be done editing this until Thursday, at least."
I smile, pride swelling inside me. "I work fast," I say.
"I hope it's as well edited as it is prompt," he says.
"I don't think you'll be disappointed."
"Confident. You're making a good impression on me, Miss Harris."
"Thank you."
He opens the manuscript. "I will go over this and get back to you as soon as I can," he says.
I nod and exit his office.
I decide to reward myself for finishing my first manuscript by stopping at the break room to get a soda.
I open the fridge and peruse the racks, settling on a Diet Coke. I hum quietly to myself as I shut the fridge, turning to see Dylan leaning against it as I shut the door. I scream a bit and drop my soda on the floor.
Dylan smirks.
"Why did you scare me?" I snap at him as I bend down to retrieve my soda.
"Because you're very unsuspecting," he replies.
I grimace. "Thanks," I say sarcastically.
I push past him and walk out of the break room. Unfortunately, he catches up to me.
"Congrats on finishing your first manuscript," he says.
"Whatever."
"A thank you would suffice."
"Don't you have work to do?" I ask, stopping and turning to face him, annoyed.
"Sure I do."
"Then go do it," I say through gritted teeth.
"I'd rather not," he says, eyes twinkling with mischief.
I roll my eyes. "How do you even keep your job?"
"Ah," he says, taking my soda from me and tapping his finger on the top. "I'm damn good at it."
I snatch back my soda. "Arrogant, much?"
"No, just accurate."
I huff and walk away again, making my way back to my desk. I slide into my seat and put my head in my hands, thoroughly annoyed with Dylan and his teasing. Dylan's wide smile doesn't diminish as he gets into his own seat.
"You don't want to open up that soda yet, love, it'll explode from the fall," he says.
"Shut up," I snap and open the manuscript I got from Mr. Morris earlier.
This seems to amuse Dylan more as he spins in his chair, a current of air being blown out from his lips in boredom. Rachel hands him a paper across his desk and he picks it up, eyes trailing over it.
"You've got to be kidding," he says, jolting up from his seat. The paper wrinkles in his fist as he marches into Mr. Morris's office, leaving the rest of us shocked. The door slams behind him.
"What did the paper say?" Oliver asks Rachel.
"Nothing out of the ordinary," she replies. "Just the budget cut percentages the company has to make."
I shrug it off and eye my soda. I decide to wait a while longer to open it.
A few moments later, distinct yelling is heard from Mr. Morris's office.
"These cuts are too big! If we make them now, the company will be out of money in three years. We can afford to make smaller ones!" I recognize Dylan's deep British accent.
"This is the smarter route in the long term, we'll make the money back by the end of the year and it will be fine. You don't know what you're talking about--"
"Do you want to be out of money in three years? That's three more years of work for all of us, and then we'll all be laid off!"
"How do you know your calculations are accurate?"
There's a pause. "I'm taking this to Crane."
"Wilson--"
Dylan bursts out of the office, cheeks pink with anger. We all watch as he storms past Caitlin's desk and out the doors, into the elevator.
Oliver chuckles. "Dylan and his temper," he says.
"Why is he so mad over budget cuts?" I ask. "It seems so petty."
Oliver shrugs. "He's very concerned about his job."
I snort. "Doesn't seem like it."
"He may not be on task most of the time, but he's damn smart. Barely needs a calculator for anything. He's kind of a math whiz."
This news shocks me. Dylan doesn't seem like the type of person to be a "math whiz."
I turn back to my manuscript and click open my editing pen.
Three o'clock rolls around and Dylan still isn't back. He's been away for a good hour and a half. It makes me wonder what's happening.
"Miss Harris," Mr. Morris calls from his office.
I cautiously stand from my desk and walk up to him.
"The manuscript you edited was fantastic," he says. "I'd like the CEO to read it for the final say before we begin publishing. Do you mind taking it to Mr. Crane two floors up? Usually Caitlin does it when we have all the manuscripts edited for the week, but I believe he'd like to meet you."
I nod. He smiles and hands me the folder.
I try to shake the nervous jitters inside of me as I walk into the elevator, the heels of my pumps clicking against the tile floor.
I walk into the office of Mr. Crane, a receptionist greeting me.
"Katie Harris," I say. "Mr. Morris sent me up here."
She nods. "I believe Mr. Wilson is still in there with him, do you mind waiting?"
"I just need to drop this off. I'll be quick."
She nods, pursing her lips. "All right, go on in."
As I walk down the hall to Mr. Crane's office, I hear Dylan's loud voice. I swallow as I knock lightly on the door and enter the office.
Chapter Six
Dylan leans across a desk, palms flat on the surface as he speaks to a distinguished man sitting in a chair behind the desk. His face is stoic as Dylan steps away, eyes dilating in confusion when he sees me.
"Ah," the man behind the desk says. "You must be Katie." He smiles. "Robert Crane, CEO of Chronicle Publishing." He stands and walks over to me, hand outstretched.
I shake it tentatively, trying to ignore Dylan's intense stare. "It's a pleasure," I say.
"No," Mr. Crane says. "I believe the pleasure is mine." He seems to be relieved I rescued him from Dylan and his yelling.
"Mr. Morris directed me to drop off this manuscript I edited," I tell him, placing it on his desk.
"Ah, of course," he says, picking it up. "Let's talk about it, shall we?"
"Mr. Crane," Dylan interjects. "We weren't finished speaking--"
"What's done is done, Mr. Wilson, there's nothing you can do about it," Mr. Crane sighs.
"Yes, there is," Dylan says. "There's a simple solution--"
"I'm sorry," Mr. Crane says. "What's done is done."
Dylan's cheeks flush. "With all due respect, Mr. Crane, are you out of your damn mind?"
My jaw drops at the way Dylan is speaking to his superior. It was one thing with Mr. Morris, but this seems to take it to a whole new level.
"Go back to work, Wilson."
"I won't go back to work until these budget cuts are reduced by at least six percent."
"You may be the best accountant we've got, Wilson, but I can still bloody well fire you!" Mr. Crane shouts.
Dylan swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Look, I know I'm a slacker. I know I don't get a lot done. But you need to listen to me about these cuts, Crane, because if you don't this company is going down." Dylan takes one last look at Mr. Crane before turning and stalking out of the office.
Mr. Crane sighs, shaking his head as he sits back at his desk. "Two hours," he says. "New record."
"He comes up here a lot?" I ask, taking a seat.
"Oh, at least twice a quarter. Has a complaint of some sort on how this company is run." Mr. Crane shuffles some papers around on his desk. He reads over one paper and shakes his head. I sit silently as he arranges and rearranges the multiple papers on his desk, shaking his head. "I hate to admit it, but the boy may be right."
He Looked Back Page 3
