Lunch Date

It’s been a few hours since he yelled at me in his office and I haven’t seen or spoken to Mr. Crawford since. I’m more than grateful for the reprieve. I’m getting ready to go out and have lunch with Evan. He called earlier and said he’d be in the area, so he wanted to meet up.

I’m getting up from my desk when I knock a file off accidentally. I bend down to pick it up, and someone speaks to me.

“Where’re you going?” Vivienne asks. She must’ve seen my handbag on the table. I always keep my purse under my desk during working hours. I also hardly go out to lunch, opting instead to eat here at the office. We have a cafeteria, and the food isn’t bad.

“I have a lunch date,” I say, lifting my head from under the table. Mr. Crawford is standing in front of my office and the glare he sends me makes me want to pee my pants. What did I say wrong now?

“Who’s the unlucky man?” Vivienne asks.

“It’s not that type of lunch date. We’re just friends going to lunch,” I hope Mr. Crawford believes me