Page 54 of So That Happened

“We were talking about bending the rules,” I say through a mouthful of chip.

14

LIAM

Ways to make a casual dinner with your colleague awkward:

Panic order her every last thing on the menu.

Find yourself totally unable to stop looking at her mouth as she eats, so try to “fix” the problem by asking her a bunch of work questions with military-like precision and force.

Get approached by a relentless dance-mom from your niece’s class who’s asked you out no less than four times in the past year.

So, all in all, another typical interaction with Annie. Spending time with her is like holding up a giant disaster magnet to my life—one that sucks in carefully-arranged things at an alarming rate and flips them on their heads.

We’ve finished our food, but we’re still lingering at Maria’s Cantina, talking business. Our current topic of conversation is about flexibility when it comes to the rules. It’s a topic I am not happy with. One, because we already know what that leads to: inadvertent illicit cuddling of your pretty new employee. And two, because I can’t focus on what she’s saying when I know I need to explain what just happened.

I don’t like explaining myself.

“Why don’t we present this to Wiseman as something we’re still exploring. Seeing if it would resonate well with existing users as an optional feature,” I toss out as a compromise.

I also don’t usually like compromise.

But Annie has done her homework. She knows her stuff, is confident in what she’s saying. And I know better than to let a personal preference affect my ability to run my company. Plus, she maybe, just maybe, might have a point. It’s unlikely. But possible. I’m not going to be a stubborn jerk and ignore her work.

Even though I’m not convinced she’s right.

She offers a small smile. “Sounds good. I think you’ll see it my way eventually.”

“We’ll see,” I reply. I’m not sure I’m capable of seeing any way other than mine, but Annie makes me want to try. And that’s more than I can say for most people.

She wipes her fingers on her napkin. “Thanks again for dinner. I’m so full.”

“Should we get out of here? Walk and talk?”

“Of course. I’m sure you have other places to be. People to see.” Annie’s eyes flicker to the restaurant door as she speaks. The same door that Cassandra exited a few minutes before.

It’s now or never.

I suck in a breath. “Sorry about Cassandra.”

“Don’t apologize.” Annie frowns. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I was rude,” I correct. Pause for a moment before, perhaps against my better judgment, adding, “she’s been quite persistent in, um, pursuing me. Romantically.”

Annie’s eyebrows fly up. “Oh?”

“Her advances are”—I search for an appropriate sentence ending—“flattering, but unwanted. As I’ve made clear to her more than a few times.”

Annie’s eyes widen further. I’m not sure who’s more surprised that I’m revealing this information: me, or her.

“You don’t need to tell me this,” she says quickly. “You weren’t rude to me.”

“I just didn’t want you to think that I make a habit of being rude to people.”

Annie smiles cheekily. It makes her face sparkle.

“Ruder than I have to be, I mean,” I clarify with an accepting nod of her teasing smile. “I, uh, told her I don’t date.”

---