Page 11 of The Relationship Clause

What the heck am I doing? Bringing Mr. TDC his forgotten—no, stolen—coffee, yes, but WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING?

What do I think is going to happen? This isn’t a fairy tale. He’s not going to see me bringing his coffee to him like some upside-down version of Cinderella and drop down on one knee. I’m clearly the pauper in this story, not the prince—er, princess.

And anyway, I don’t want him to drop down on one knee. I don’t even know what I want. One thing’s for sure, he does not want me. Or he won’t, once he realizes what I am: a runner with a capital R.

Ding!

The elevator doors open, and I suck my panic back inside me. It’s still there, believe me, but I’m containing it. I’m good at containing my freak-outs.

Now, I’m just a girl in an elevator, holding a coffee that isn’t mine in an office that I so clearly don’t belong in. This place is intense. I can feel the buzz and the energy the second I step into the room. People are running around, talking to each other, gathering in a conference room, rushing for papers and computers and probably the launch codes to some top-secret, nuclear weapons, who knows? It literally feels like anything could be possible in a place like this.

My panic is at an all-time high, and I’m about to turn my butt back around and run back to Pete’s with my tail between my legs when a familiar voice calls my name.

“Junie?”

CHAPTER 4

JUNIE

I turn around and nearly drop the coffee and the gum out of my mouth at the same time. “Kiera?!”

She squeals and runs over to me, hugging me awkwardly as I proceed to stand still as a statue, shocked and confused. “What the heck are you doing here?” she asks, looking me up and down. “Does Pete’s make deliveries now or something?”

I shake my head, feeling like my brain is working extra slow. “No, but someone forgot part of their order and… Hold on, you mean you work here?”

“Uh, yeah. Why else would I be here?”

Then the rest of the puzzle comes crashing down on me, nearly knocking me over. The last ten-ish minutes of rushing over here had me so flustered that I didn’t even have time to put together that Kiera’s older brother’s name is also Owen.

Her gaze slides down to the name on the coffee cup in my hands, then her eyes bug out as she apparently comes to the same conclusion I have. “Wait, wait, wait. My brother is your Mr. TDC?” I can practically hear the extra exclamation points at the end of her sentence.

“Conference room in less than five minutes, people!” comes a deep, commanding, and familiar voice that shoots straight to my core. I think it does something different to everyone else in the room though, because suddenly, they’re all scurrying around like terrified mice, heading to the opposite end of the room where another large, bright, open room sits waiting, along with a table full of coffees and pastries.

“How did we never put this together?” Kiera asks, shaking her head.

I’m currently wondering the same thing. I mean, we were only roommates for a year, and I’ve heard her mention her brother, Owen, but I’m positive we never met. I would have remembered a face that swoon-worthy. He never came to our apartment, and we certainly never went to his. When we were freshman, he was a senior, busy with life, preparing for graduation, etc. Did I ever see pictures though? Maybe from when they were younger?

“I have no idea, but, um, here.” I try to shove the coffee into her hands, but she won’t take it.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just, um, running away. Can you please take this to your brother?” I say, whispering the last word.

But she has zero pity on me. She grins, and mischief glitters in Kiera’s eyes as she takes me by the elbow, forcefully walking me through the room. Lots of eyes are on me now, and I do my best to keep my chin held high and remind myself I’m a woman of strength, dignity, and poise.

“Where are we going?” I whisper.

“To see Mr. Tall, Dark, and Caffeinated himself, of course.”

I immediately dig in my heels. “What? No! I can’t. Kiera, why don’t you take the coffee to him yourself?”

“Because I’m not his secretary. That’s something a secretary would do.”

“Okay, where’s his secretary then?”

“Doesn’t have one.”

“What?”

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