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“Oh, I packed my lunch today. But thanks for asking.”
“Stop,” she croons, swatting a hand through the air. “Save your lunch and have it for dinner. The office is literally paying for it. Email me your order, and I’ll add it to the list.”
Yeah, I’m not about to turn down free Chipotle.
“Okay, fine,” I hum jokingly. “If you insist.”
A few hours later,Evie arrives back at my desk with two bags of takeout.
“God, that smells good,” I chime, inhaling deeply.
“Tell me about it,” she echoes. “I’m the one who had to try to not rip into the food as I carried it up from the lobby. It smells divine,” she hums. “I’m starving. Mind if I sit?”
“No, not at all,” I shake my head.
She takes a seat in the chair opposite of my desk and begins pulling the compostable bowls from the bag.
“So, do you always have lunch at your desk?” she asks while sliding me my burrito bowl.
“No, I go out for most days. Even if I bring my lunch, I’ll walk over to the park and eat. It’s nice to get out of the office for a bit. Gets kind of depressing sitting here all day,” I chuckle.
“I know exactly what you mean. I always make sure to takea lunch.” She scrunches up her nose in disapproval before continuing.
“Never become one of those people who works through lunch every day,” she adds. “You deserve a break. Just because Elliot doesn't give himself one, doesn't mean that you don’t deserve it.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I scoff. “Elliot already tried to give me shit about taking a lunch break, and I put him in his place real fast.”
She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing as her lips tilt up in a smirk.
“You’re good for him, you know?”
I ignore the way her comment causes my chest to tighten.
“Why do you say that?”
“Just like you said,” she shrugs. “You don’t take shit from him. I’m not lying when I say that you’re the only person in this office, other than Skylar, that I’ve seen stand up to Elliot. He’s a tough cookie, but I think you may be tougher.”
I lean back in my chair crossing my arms over my chest.
“That might be the best compliment anyone has ever given me,” I brag.
“I mean it,” she clarifies before taking a sip of her drink. “Enough talk about Elliot…What are you doing after work next Friday?”
“Probably what I’ve done every Friday night since I moved to Dallas,” I reply honestly. “Order takeout, hang out with my cat, and watch Love Island.”
She arches a brow at my response.
“Okay but to be honest, that sounds like a bomb ass night,” she admits. “But next Friday, you have different plans.”
“Oh really?” I chuckle. “And what would those plans be?”
“A group of us in the office try to go out at least once a month after work on a Friday. We usually start with dinner andend up at a club downtown. It’s always super chill and fun. Plus, I can introduce you to some of my friends at the company.”
I can’t conceal the wide grin curving my lips. My stomach bubbles with excitement to have plans other than sitting in my apartment, stuffing my face with shitty food, and watching trashy television.
“You don’t have to convince me,” I beam. “I’m indireneed of a night out.”
“Yay!” she squeals, clasping her manicured hands together. “I’ll add you to our group text.”
