𝑴𝒚 𝑹𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒐𝒔𝒔

-𝙵𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍-

«𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚡»

And just like that I lost her. I didn't think it would go that way. And to be honest I feel...odd.

A moment later the doors to my office sprung open and in stepped Amy. If her face wasn't scrunched in anger I would think she was here to complain about one of the girls, but I knew what she was here for.

"She quit?! Why'd she quit?" Amy stopped in front of my desk with her hands on her hips —face still writhed in anger.

I exhaled. "I fired her actually." Really, Alex, still playing this game?

She huffs crossing her arms. "I don't care. What I want to know is why?"

"Amy-

"Don't you dear give me a heavy exhale like you don't want to hear it."

I gaze at her.

"And now you're lips are playing with your ring finger and that's telling me that you are thinking. Probably thinking of a way to send me on my way but guess what Alex it would not work on me today, no sir." She said, all, in one breath.

I have to break it to her, she has mastered the art of studying me. Maybe too well. I don't like it. I put my hands down in my lap and crossed my leg on my left knee, still gazing at her.

"Different pose means you actually don't know what to say."

"Okay, are you done now?"

She set her hands on my desk and glared at me. I felt a bit of sarcasm behind her actions and I challenged her. I tilt my brows, waiting to see what she's got.

"Why?"

"She's unprofessional." Vise versa, actually.

"Okay so you did something to her. And you know Mr.Morris if you did it would be another lawsuit in your book. Not to mention her purse is here." She motioned to it and a smile, one that I didn't know I was holding, dropped upon seeing it.

Right, I was supposed to return it.

I leant up, setting my foot down as I grabbed it from my desk. I sat back, feeling the thick leather of the purse. It smells like her. I didn't know it was possible for an item to smell as good as it's owner.

No. Don't.

But my brain did anyways. Could I be true to myself and admit that maybe, just maybe I like her?

I shook my head, pushing back the thought. I can't like you it's bad news if I do. Then Amy's raspy, high pitch, voice cut through my thoughts.

"Oh. My. Gosh. You like her." I looked at her and she pushed those circular glasses of her onto her nose with a wide smile.

Oh no.

"No I-

"You totally do!" She squeals. Then she began to pace. "Okay let me see. When did it start?"