28. It’s Just Lunch
Jared
It’s almost lunch time, and I’m waiting on pins and needles for the Chinese takeout I had Sophie order to arrive. Not because I’m craving honey chicken and fried rice. No, what I’m craving is the company, which is why I instructed her to order enough for both of us without further explanation.
I know what she’s thinking. That this is going to be a working lunch. Well, it’s not, and I have no fucking clue how’s she’s going to react. But it’s too late to turn back now, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.
A knock sounds on my door, and I push myself to my feet as I call out an invitation to enter. Sophie ushers in a young man with plastic bags in his hands, and the sweet and spicy scents of the Chinese food waft up my nose, making my stomach grumble with anticipation.
Another kind of anticipation overshadows the hunger as Sophie thanks the delivery guy and shows him the door. The light pink of her blouse highlights her fair complexion, and that messy knot of hair on her head makes my fingers itch to rip the elastic out and massage her scalp.
Slow down, Jared, I silently admonish myself.
This lunch is about getting to know her a little better. To decide if my desire for her is authentic, or just a challenge. A chance to tame her wild streak.
No. I know it’s not that. I wouldn’t change a single thing about her.
Closing the office door behind the delivery guy, she walks back toward my desk, and I notice for the first time the tablet in her hands. She sits as I pull the cartons of food from the bags and open each one.
“You’re not going to need that,” I say, pulling two paper plates and some plasticware from the bag.
I see her hug the tablet to her chest in my peripheral vision as she says, “But I thought this was––”
“Just lunch,” I say, finally meeting her eyes. “Are you okay with that?”
She stares at me, unblinking, for several beats before nodding slowly. The tension ebbs out of my body as I hand her a plate with a small smile.
“Good.”
We’re quiet as we spoon piles of food on our plates. I consider moving around to sit in the chair next to her, but quickly decide against it. She’s skittish enough, as it is. I sit down in my chair, keeping the expanse of my desk between us. Sophie scoots her own chair closer so she can use my desk as a table, and we both dig into our food.
Two or three minutes in, I feel frustration welling up inside me. Sophie is acting completely out of character, sitting all meek and mild across from me. She hasn’t said a single snarky or outrageous thing since she walked in here.
It’s ironic, really. The thing that’s annoyed me the most since the moment I met her is the thing I miss the most. Her saucy personality. Her wicked tongue. Her take-life-by-the-balls-with-no-regrets attitude.
“How’s the mandarin chicken?’ I ask, grasping at anything to get the conversation started.
“It’s good,” she says quietly.
My molars grind together, and I force my jaw to relax before saying, “The sweet and sour pork is delicious. You should try it.”
Without a word of protest, she reaches for the container and scoops some onto her plate. Taking a bite, she nods and mumbles something about me being right.
I fucking hate it.
“Sophie.”
Blowing out a breath, she pushes her plate away and meets my gaze. “What are we doing here, Jared?”
“Having lunch,” I say simply.
“But…why? When you asked me to order for both of us, I assumed you wanted to work through lunch today. But you don’t want to work, and you’re acting weird.”
“I’m acting weird?” I toss back at her, my voice raising slightly. “You’ve barely said two words since you walked in here.”
“You didn’t answer my question. Why did you want to have lunch with me? You don’t even like me.”
“Is that what you thought when I drove you to my house and let you sleep in my bed while I took the guest room?” flies out of my mouth before I can stop it.