“Dammit, Sofie. You don’t always need to have the last word. Now, get in the car. The rain has already saturated your clothes, and you’re not even wearing a decent coat for this weather.” Mr. Morgan put his hand on my back and guided me to the car.
At this point, continuing to argue seemed futile. Mr. Morgan wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He took the laptop and pizza box from me, jockeying them in one hand while he helped me into the back seat. I scooted as far away as possible, my thigh pressed against the door. Mr. Morgan climbed in beside me and placed my belongings on the seat between us, the inside of the car smelling of wet leather and a hint of his cologne.
“I thought your bus stop was across the street from the office.” He brushed the raindrops from his face and ran his hand through his hair, the water causing it to look darker as he slicked it backward.
“I moved. I have to take a different bus.”
“Where do you live? I need to tell Lawrence where to take you.”
“The bus stop at North Washington and Cooper in the North End is fine. My apartment isn’t far from there.” I looked down at the seat, trying to increase the distance between us. There was nowhere to go—my entire left side was crammed against the car’s door.
“I’m not dropping you off at a bus stop.”
“It’ll be fine. I stop there every day. You don’t need to take me home.”
“Okay, we can play this game. We’ll sit here at the curb until you tell me where to go.” He leaned back in the seat and crossed his arms over his chest, arching an eyebrow at me.
We were at a stalemate, and I knew we couldn’t sit here forever. I reluctantly gave in, even though the last thing I wanted was for Mr. Morgan to take me home.
“I live on Endicott, around the corner from the bus stop.”
“Lawrence, did you catch that?” Mr. Morgan said to the man in the driver’s seat.
“Yes, sir.” The man pulled away from the curb.
“Why do you have a laptop? You’re not taking work home, are you?” Mr. Morgan unzipped the case and peeked inside.
Feeling cornered, I figured I had no choice but to tell him the truth. “Krista told me to make all the revisions on the presentation from this afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you do it at work?”
“Because I’ve never used PowerPoint before. It’ll take me all night to figure it out since I don’t know how to use it.”
“Wonderful. Krista gave you an assignment without checking to see if you could do it.” He looked upset, his head tipping down as he rubbed his forehead. After a long pause, he turned toward me. “I’d override her instructions and tell you to work on it tomorrow, except I know she needs the revised presentation first thing in the morning. That leaves only one choice—the two of us working on it together this evening.”
“Excuse me?” I stared at him, thinking he was insane. “There’s no way I’m working on this with you.”
“You’re working on it with me because you don’t have much choice, and don’t even think about arguing with me. What do you eat?”
“What?”
“If that pizza was your dinner, it’s now a soggy mess. So, what do you like to eat? We can stop and pick something up.”
“Food.”
“I swear, you act like I’m torturing you. Is being nice that difficult?”
“Yes.” I sat there feeling flustered. Tonight wasn’t going as I had planned. I pressed my teeth into my bottom lip as I stared out the window. Unnerved by the silence, I finally decided to talk. “There’s an Italian place down the street from my apartment.”
“Okay. That’ll work.”
We drove in silence once again until we got to my street. I pointed to my building. “I live in those apartments. The Italian place is a couple of doors down.”
“Lawrence, can you park in front of the restaurant and run in and get us something to eat? I’m afraid Ms. Fletcher will disappear if I leave her alone.”
“Yes, sir. What should I get?”
“See if they have some shrimp scampi. Sofie, what do you want?”