A Rainy Day [COMPLETE]

Chapter 9

"You can't keep canceling your—" Luke storms up to me halfway through my statement.

"As far as I know I'm still in charge. So we're going." After arriving at the door, he opens it, waiting for me to be the first to step through.

Walking by, I drop my tablet on the sofa and march out the door, speeding to the machine that hopefully might cut me away from him. Just as the metal doors begin to close, a hand slaps itself between the sides of the doors and prevents them from moving any further. Then, in a short distance away, his face peaks into my view.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." I face the wall for a moment, sparing some time to roll my eyes. He presses on the garage level and takes his place on the elevator. "So what happened after I left in high school?" I shift my head in his direction, gawking at him with parted lips.

"Nothing new. Just....same old," I lie straight through my teeth.

"Hm."

"So now you're interested in work?" I mention, peering over at his screen before returning my sight to the reflective elevator doors.

"Just because I don't like to be in meetings doesn't mean I refuse to do my job." I sigh with a long breath and observe as the polished doors separate, setting us free from the small space.

"I'm driving." I twirl the keys around my finger and throw them in the air, waiting for them to land back in my hand. Except for the fact that they don't. My eyes are directed to the side and discover a hand, larger than mine, is in possession of them.

"In your dreams." He ambles off in front of me as I stand there, dumbfounded. Eventually, I hopped in his expensive car and we drove off to some restaurant with a hard to pronounce name.

I slip inside the restaurant, hoping I can pull the same trick as last time and get away with it. Unfortunately for me, he's right behind me, wearing a smug expression. The host seats us, hands us menus, and then carries on assisting other customers. After some time, we're given our food.

"So what's going on with your parents?" Luke strikes a conversation into place. His persistence is like lightning during a thunderstorm. Loud and neverending.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I rejoin, keeping my eyes on the plate in front of me. 

"Okay, what really happened after I left?" He takes his second attempt at my personal life.

"I already told you that," I explain, picking around my plate.

"Why are acting so strange?" I stab my fork against the plate.

"You mean professional?" I correct him, hoping to put an end to the subject.

"I'm just trying to make conversation. All you have to do is answer one of my questions." 

I finish swallowing my bite of food to answer his question. "Fine. I'm acting weird because you're my boss and—"

"What a load of crap," Luke completely cuts me off, dropping his utensils on the plate, causing them to clatter.

"What? What do you mean crap?" I ask, surprised.

"What's the real reason?" He reaches over to snag a piece of bread from the basket the servers gave us.

"What if that is the real reason?"

"It's not." He stares through me as I continue to hold up the shield guarding my secrets. I swallow out of nervousness and take a sip from my drink.

"And how would someone like you know that?" I catechize back.

"Because you're the type of person who tends to dodge a person's eyes when they're lying.....and you still do." I hold my glass in the air and keep my gaze locked on his enigmatic eyes.

"You know what? Why not make this interesting. You know why it's weird?" I speak crossing my arms on the table.

"No, actually I don't, but I have a feeling you're about to tell me." And right he was.

"This is weird because you were formally my boyfriend, once my ex, and now my boss...and don't you think it's maybe just a little awkward when we're around each other?" I question him, leading off of the topic we were once on.

"You know what I think?" The tension only grows.

"No, but I have a feeling you're about to tell me," I mimic his words and hurl them back like a catapult.

"You simply overthink matters because, unlike me, I have no problem being around you," he answers. I catch the triumphant curve in his lip and a glint in his eyes.

"Well, maybe we just have our own reasons." 

"Why would your reason be any different from mine?" he questions with the slightest bit of curiosity replacing the glint in his gaze. The game is over with now and I'm starting to wish that we would've kept playing.

"Did you forget that you left me?" I remind him, subtly.

"That's not it. Why act like things are weird over something you could've gotten over years ago?" Because it was impossible to get over.

"Check please." I gently lift my hand allowing the server to see me.

"I'll find out eventually," Luke murmurs into the atmosphere as I fall back in my chair.

"I'm sure you will." Boy wonder.

"So there is something else!" he says with excitement as his eyes widen with hope.

"Let's go Sherlock Holmes." I pick myself off of the chair and brush an uncomfortable hand through my hair. Just as I strut out of the building, the lights to Luke's car flash once. I knew he was behind me, I just didn't realize how fast he could sign his checkbook.

When we return to the office, Luke makes an announcement as soon as he steps out onto the floor. "I'd like everyone to remember that tomorrow is P.J. Day. All of you know what happens if you don't follow the rules. I'll send out a reminder in a few minutes," he hollers over the short cubicles and hurries into his office.

"What's P.J. Day?" I catechize in a deep, disappointed tone, closing the door behind me.

"You get to wear your sleepwear to work, but if you don't then you'll wear whatever is in my office closet."

"You can't do that," I mutter in a whisper.

"Last I checked, I'm the CEO of the company," he retorts, lifting a brow.

"Last I checked, I'm not your slave." I fire back and send him a quick smirk.

"Yet, somehow you still work for me." My face says ugh as I stand there facing him. He roams over behind his desk, turning everything back on and pulling out different folders from his file cabinet.

"I'm going out," I proclaim, beginning to leave his office.

"What? I have appointments that need—" 

"I'll text you." 

"I don't have your number." Of course, you don't.

"Then I'll email you." I leave his office with my purse in hand, rushing over to the elevator of freedom. A burden lifts off my shoulders as soon as the elevator begins to move.