and we chased

Chapter 22

ARIA

If I thought Lewis and I hit it off in Interlagos, the last two weeks were a constant downhill. He stopped greeting me at first. Then, he started using "Miss Grant" in every sentence he says. Then, he stopped our conversation all together and decided for emails.

Now, he wants me to get him salad from somewhere across town.

I bet he chose the place just to keep me away from the office.

Sometimes, I don't get guys. Who am I kidding? I don't get guys all the time. Like, even in middle school. If some guy would tell you "You're pretty", you'd have to smile shyly and go like: "Oh, really? Do you think so? I had no idea." Or, if they would tell you "You're such a bitch", some friend of theirs would come to you and say: "No, he's just teasing you. He actually has a crush on you."

If you like a girl, just tell her. I mean, we overthink things in our head the entire time. Every word you say will be analyzed in the best friend chat anyway. A "Hey" will have ten thousand different meanings, and don't get me started on an emoji.

My bestie Livie and I once spent two hours talking about what an emoji with a half-grin means. She's also the one to which I told her everything about my time with Lewis in Interlagos. After calling me crazy for fifty times because I felt some spark for my boss who happens to have been one of my childhood friends, she and I spent another good hours just talking about every single word I could remember of our conversation.

Livie lives in Europe, that's why we get to see each other so rare. But we text a lot and we face time. And she promised to come attend one of the Prix together with her boyfriend as soon as she can.

I can't wait to see her again.

"Avocado?", a voice interrupts my thoughts.

I take back in where I am. A restaurant. Getting the salad Lewis asked for.

"Yes", I answer. At this point, I don't care if Lewis hates it. That's for the forty minutes car ride I had to endure to get here.

"Anything else, Miss?", the man asks me, handing me the To Go salad bowl. I look at the items and prices and decide to go for a bagel. As soon as I have that in my hands as well, I go back to search for a taxi and spend other forty minutes in a car.

~

"Leave it on the table, Miss Grant", Lewis tells me, not bothering to look up from the documents he's reading as I enter the room.

I barely stop a frown and go bring the salad on his desk, as requested.

Lewis finally looks up, but not to look at me, but at the salad.

"Oh", it's all he says.

Is this guy for real?

"Oh", I repeat, as a sign for him to elaborate.

"I usually always have my chicken cut."

Yeah, his explanation didn't quite help.

"Please, explain", I say, on the verge of my sanity.

"I always have my chicken cut. There are five strips of chicken. I always have three of them cut in stripes, and two of them in cubes."

What

The

Heck

Ladies and gentlemen, we gathered here today to mourn the sanity of Aria Grant.

"Do you want me to breast feed you as well?", I let out a bit too loud. Yet it's only after I said it that I realize what I said.

Lewis stares at me with a shocked expression, his eyebrow raised minimally. I cover my mouth with my hand, to avoid something else from coming out.

Remember who you are, Aria. He's your boss. You're his assistant. And whatever connection you think you two had in Brazil, it's long gone.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Cunnan. I'll be right back with your salad", I say. I grab the bowl and walk out of his room and to the office's kitchen before he can say anything else.