Page 85 of Prove You Wrong

‘That minx.’ I tut.‘She’s been telling me she walks home.’

‘Standard teenager, right? So, things are going well on the whole “see what happens” front?’

‘I’m trying not to overthink it.’ I bite my lip and look around at the grand downtown buildings as I walk.

‘Proud of you. So, what’s happened today?’

‘Urgh, Boris,’ I groan.

‘Oh, chick, what?’

‘I got copied in on an email. All staff did. He recommended all senior staff get a Christmas bonus except for me. Because I’m a junior. They left it up to him. He held my bonus in his hand and thought, nah, screw it.’

‘Shit, Ella.’

‘After everything I’ve done for them. Forhim. What’s it to him if I get a bonus or not? But it’d mean the world to me.’ I work hard not to let my voice break.

‘You’ve gotta leave that place. He’s taking the piss.’

‘We both know I can’t,’ I sigh. ‘Obligations. Bills. Sorry to moan. I just need to vent.’

***

Having left for lunch earns me the stink eye upon my return. Screw you, Boris. I'm entitled to leave my desk for half an hour and I'm definitely rethinking all my overtime in light of this no-bonus situation. What’s the point in being so diligent all the time when you just end up getting taken advantage of?

When I receive an email from HR mid-afternoon telling me I need to take all my annual leave before January or I'll lose it, I have no hesitation about booking the following afternoon off. Again,screw you, Boris.

Nate: Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?

The message quietly lights up the screen of my phone, hidden in the shadow of a pot plant on my desk. Despite my affront at the bonus situation, I can’t shake abiding by office rules. Movingsubtly, I send a response.

Ella: Need to work on Helena. Rain check?

Tucking my phone back away, I keep my head down and carry on with my work. Yes, I’m pissed off, but I don’t want to give them grounds to discipline me.

***

Bending backwards to try and unkink my spine, I sigh before straightening up and circling my shoulders. My watch says it’s just gone four in the afternoon. Being hunched over the engine for so long is less than ideal, and tinkering with Helena always takes longer than I think it will.

‘Hey you,’ Nate calls from the open garage door.

‘Woah!’ I spring back, startled.

As I walk over slowly, I take him all in. A checked shirt peeks out from under his jacket. He’s wearing old jeans and the most heart-melting smile.

‘This is a nice surprise,’ I say with a bemused tone in my voice, dragging my oil-covered vinyl gloves off.

He gives me an innocent look as if he’s pretending he doesn’t know how happy I am to see him, despite having toldhim I needed to work on Helena.

Reaching up to link my hands around his neck, I pull him down for a kiss.

‘Seeing as you didn’t explicitly say “No” to my text yesterday, I thought I’d see if I could help. And, I figured you’d need to eat at some point, so I’ve brought it to you.’ He holds up a bulging bag.

‘That’s so thoughtful, thank you.’

Suddenly, it’s Nate’s cheeks going red rather than mine.

‘What are you thinking?’ I ask coyly.

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