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Chapter 34: On Impulse

Chapter 34: On Impulse

"You're late, Furby," Dean comments the second I step into the office.

I get the feeling that he's been waiting for me for a while.

"What up, Mr. Muscles?" I greet him with a big grin on my face. "I'm late because...well...reasons."

"Sounds like an appropriate reason to me," he replies before loping over to me. "You're lucky; Tim was here, and I covered for you."

"Thanks, Deanio," I say appreciatively. "What did you end up telling him?"

"I said that you were taking your time in the bathroom," he answers with a shrug. "Food poisoning and all that nasty stuff."

I stare at him blankly, trying to comprehend what he's done.

"When I started going into gory details, Timothy opted out of hearing anymore," he adds, still upbeat. "He left very quickly after that."

My boss did not need to know any of that. If I were a normal person, I'd be embarrassed...I think.

"You couldn't think of another excuse?" I ask, baffled.

He grins and nods. "Oh, definitely! I came up with many, like a lot, but I felt the excuse that I used brought out a whole different dimension to you as a person. It's a side of you that we don't get to see."

A disgusting side?!

On impulse, I reach out and land one swift, punch to his gut. "You know you deserved that."

He squats over in pain. "Whatever. Didn't even hurt," he insists in a hoarse voice, acting tough.

"I should hope not because you're ninety-nine percent muscles and one percent brain," I remind him of the facts.

I tune out his muffled cries and glance over at Melinda. She seems preoccupied with her work. However, the fact that she hasn't even bothered to complain about me being late is extremely out of character for her. She loves to ride busses over me whenever she gets the chance.

"Dean," I whisper, hitting his arm when he doesn't respond immediately, "what's up with her?" I nod in the direction of Melinda.

He shrugs, still recovering. "Been like that all morning," he answers, sucking in a deep breath before straightening up again. "Check this," he says to me before approaching Mel with a flirty bounce in his step.

Oh, no! He's gonna get punched...again.

I watch him lean down and place his elbow on her desk, getting up close and personal with her. "Hey Mel," he says in a sultry voice, laying the charm on thick. "Violets are blue, roses are red, let's cut the sweet talk and go to my bed."

Melinda doesn't bat an eyelid. She doesn't flinch or react in any form. In fact, it's almost like she's not even here.

"See?" Dean turns back to me and throws his hands up in exasperation. "Nothing!"

Shot to his ego...

Taking matters into my own hands -- y'all know how I do -- I push my chair up to her desk and then take a seat across from her. She doesn't even lift her head to acknowledge me.

I take in her appearance, trying to solve a puzzle. She looks presentable and professional as always. There isn't a hair out of place. She seems the epitome of strength and independence – nothing out of the norm for her. However, on closer inspection, I notice the very slight quiver in her hand.

"Melinda," I use her full name, hoping that she'll listen, "look at me or I'm going to sit here and annoy you for the rest of the day. You and I both know that it's a long day..."