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ethan

harper pushes around her plate of salad, clearly not finding it appetizing.

i blow on a spoonful of my chili and raise an eyebrow. "is everything okay?" i ask.

she sighs immediately, as if she was waiting for someone to ask her that. "why don't i just ever order a damn hamburger?"

i blink and my lips part as i try to come up with an answer to this question. "i- i don't know. why don't you ever order a burger, harper?"

she locks her eyes with mine and nods her head. "that's such a good question. honestly, i don't have an answer. i'm so sick and tired of being vegetarian, you know? all i eat are salads and drink tea."

"do you want me to order you a burger...?" i offer, hoping to not say the wrong thing.

she laughs at my obvious hesitation and carefulness, and shakes her head. "no, i don't know what would happen if i did eat meat. i've been vegetarian for a couple years."

"literally nothing would happen," i reply blandly.

harper looks at me humorously and says, "i don't think we've ever been out to lunch, just you and me."

i shrug and take another spoonful of my chili. "yeah, i guess so."

"what do you do for fun, ethan?"

i almost laugh at the question. "harper, you're probably the person in this city that i've known the longest, and its crazy the me that i still know nothing about you."

"same here," she agrees. "so tell me about you."

i widen my eyes and stare at my plate. "trying to think of something that i would be able to tell my boss..."

"i'm not your boss right now, i'm your friend."

"well," i start slowly. "i like to go out on the weekends, watch football, read, you know... the average boring stuff. what about you?"

she suddenly smiles. "i have a strange fondness to sitting on my balcony on sunday mornings and people watching."

"people watching?" i question with a quirked eyebrow.

she nods eagerly and leans across the table a little bit. "i make up fake lives for them in my head. see that couple over there?" she points across the restaurant and i nod.

"he's cheating on her," she whispers, not taking her eyes of the pair. "and she totally knows it, too. but they're about to get married and their parents are pretty much forcing them together so they don't break up the business that ties the two families together and—"

"wait, wait," i interject with a loud laugh. "slow down. he's cheating on her?"

she gives me a mischievous smirk and continues. "with a girl named yolanda, from sweden. her dad was the inventor of cadbury eggs, and the guy secretly wants in on her business instead of the other girl's fiber glass company."

i feel myself beginning to relax and beg for more fake lives from people.

she spots a woman looking slightly dirty, like she just went on a run and fell down.

"her name is gwen. she caught her husband feeding the family dog her caviar, so she buried him underneath the trump tower across the river walk. see how her clothes are all dirty? it's from her digging."

"that's so messed up," i chuckle, facing her once again.

she shrugs, sitting back down in her seat and taking a small bite of the salad in front of her.

"most people in this city are, ethan."

i nod in agreement. "that's true."

we continue eating for a couple minutes until a ding on her apple watch makes her jump up.

"what's wrong?" i ask confusedly.

she grabs her coat from the back of her chair. "i have to be back at the office right now to discuss next week's cover article with one of the layout managers."

i follow her rushed manner right out the door as watch as she hurries to order an uber, her breath being visible in the air of the frosty day.

it arrives minutes later, and by the look on her face, i can tell she's stressed out.

"what's so special about this meeting?" i ask.

"she needs my help with color scheme and font, which is honestly her job, but whatever," harper mumbles, and struggles to pull a small compact mirror from her purse, and check her makeup.

i sit quietly on the ride back, being kind of sad that the relaxed and funny girl i was just having lunch with is now back to normal.

when we arrive back at the building, she bustles past everyone and into the nearest elevator, cutting off a delivery man and apologizing right after.

i struggle to keep up with her quick feet as her heels click across the marble floors and into her office, where she throws her coat and bag.

"you can go home early," she says, grabbing folders off her desk. "i don't need anything else today."

"are you sure? not even a coffee?"

she offers me a weak smile and brushes past me. "nope, enjoy it. i'll see you tomorrow, okay? leave the calvin oliver folder on my desk, and i'll read it over before i leave tonight."

before i can respond, the office door is slammed shut with a slight breeze, leaving me in a slight daze.

but nonetheless, i gather up my things and hesitantly drop the file onto her desk before leaving to go home.

the drive back is filled with my quiet humming and drumming fingers on the steering wheel.

when i get home, i immediately unbutton the shirt i'm wearing and throw it across the room, along with my belt and work pants.

in return, i put on some sweatpants and grab a tub of raspberry sherbet from the freezer.

just like an average night.

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