On Purpose

~10~

I was back to work when Monday came around. It was a surprise for me and a sadness, I didn't wanna spend my New Year's at work, but I'll be fine.
I talked to Stacey and she told me about how her husband was doing worse. I didn't ask what was wrong with him directly, but the question stored in my mind, taking a note to ask her next week.
"Hey, Stones, I've been calling you." I look up and see my boss standing in the doorway of my office.
"Sorry Mr. Adler, I just got off the phone with my client." I say when I put the phone back onto the receiver.
I never really call my boss by his first or last name. That was his job to do to me. I simply call him, "Boss Man." He didn't say he hate it, so it's been that way ever since.
"Anything about Willmore? Did he do anything to get the hairs on my head standing?" I drew my bottom lip in my mouth so I won't laugh.
"Shut up, I know what you're thinking and it's not funny." I nod and stole a look at the top of his bald head, even though I've seen it for three years, I thought maybe I'd check again, just in case there was something I'd missed over the years. Nope, still no hair.
"So?" I find a website on my computer that could help Stacey. I know she told me to put our work on hold for the time being, but I couldn't help but put myself to work.
"Nope, nothing. Maybe he's satisfied with his pizza store?" I held back the urge to smirk or grin at my slight joke. I had to remind myself I'm with my boss, not with Isabelle.
"I'll just keep my guard up." He said, and turns to leave, but then he stops and looks at me as if the realizations just kicked him in the nuts.
"Why is it that I'm your boss but I come in here like I'm your assistant?" I answer with a shrug.
"I guess I do my work better than you." He looks at me with a smear of annoyance. "Yeah right, keep it up you'll be doing a better job at Wendy's." I laugh that time, not bothering to suck my lip to hold it back.
He shakes his head in shame at me and then walks down the hall and out of my view.

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"Tell me, Dip-Noodle, is it really worth it?" I look at Isabelle while she stuffed her face with fried pickles.
"I dunno." I shrugged.
"So then it's settled, you're taking me to the art museum tomorrow." I would've said, "Take yourself, I have work," but I said, "Sure, what time should I pick you up?" She pops another crunchy pickle in her mouth and chewed a few times. She wipes her hands on her pants and looks at me.
"You gotta ask me first." I opened my mouth to protest with her words. "Why would I? It was your idea." She glares at me, the glare I've been craving all day at work today.
"Fine." I sigh in defeat and look away. "Will you go out on another friendly date with me, Miss. Purpose?" I hear her huff which led me to look at her. Her arms crossed with a grumpy look on her face.
"Is that a no?"
"Yes."
"So it's a yes?"
She looks at me.
"It's a yes to it's a no."
I raise an eyebrow in confusion.
"Shut up, you know what I mean."
"What did I say that was wrong?"
"You didn't look at me, you always have to make eye contact when you ask a girl out. I'm only teaching you this just in cause you wanna ask your third girlfriend out." I lower my gaze when she spoke about my love life again. "What? Maybe you'll end up marrying her, you know what they say, third times the charm."
I held back the urge to smack my lips.
"Okay, on a serious note, you've gotta make eye contact when you talk to anyone." I look back to make sure my dad or Christy weren't in ear-shot of our conversation, or they'd think we were going on a real date.
"I do." I said when I faced her again.
"Okay, then ask me out, but make eye contact, show me what those pretty green babies can do." I saw her raise her hand to touch my face, I was swift this time, grabbing her wrist like how I did in the library last week.
"Your fingers are oily and smell like pickles." She smirked and used her other hand to reach for my bowl of fried pickles. I let go of her hand I was once holding to swat her other hand away.
"Don't you dare, Mr. Krabs." I say when she drew back. With me distracted, trying to protect my precious fried pickles, she dug her finger in my cheek.
"Ugh!" I groaned and swatted at her hand as if it were a fly. She sets her empty bowl down on the table and propped herself on her knees, digging them into the couch, as she starts poking me everywhere. I lean away from her but she'd pressed herself against me so she was stuck to me as she kept her poking campaign going.
"Isabelle, quit it."
"Make me, make me, make me." She said with each poke. I was saved, when my dad came in.
"What's going on in here?" His voice was deep and hard, nearly shaking the house.
"Oliver started it. He told me I look like the Grinch when I smile." She whined.
I've never been so fast to look at someone with shock as I did when she said those words.
"Olly, stop being a bully." My dad said, taking a seat next to me and he took a fried pickle out of my bowl before he attached his butt to the cushions.
I had so many words to say, but I let them have it. Since it was New Year's, they got lucky.
We all gathered to watch the Monday Night Football, but it was still daylight outside and the game didn't start until nine, so my dad watched Criminal Minds to keep himself busy until then. While he watched, I nudge Isabelle with my shoulder which she delivered one back to me. I looked over at her and she did the same to me. Her smile was small, but bright. She looked away first which made me do the same right after.
"What's going on?" I asked my dad.
He shrugged. "I dunno, someone killed someone and they tryna find out who that someone is."
I hear Isabelle give out a soft laugh.
"That's basically all they do, almost every single episode is of them getting into the minds of criminals." I look at my dad, an eyebrow raised that said: "She's got a point." He looks between me and Isabelle. "Kids." He rolled his eyes and he got up and left.
When he was gone, Isabelle says, "I'm twenty three years old, I'm far from being a 'kid'" and while she says this, she sits crisscrossed and cross her arms over her chest with an angry look, like a kid.

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Isabelle's sister-whose name I had yet to know- came over to pick her up. I asked Isabelle if I could meet her, but she said, "No, she doesn't like men." I said, "But she has a kid." As the conversation went back and forth, it went a little something like this.
Her: "She likes some men."
Me: "Like who? Chris Brown?"
Her: "No."
Me: "I let you meet my only family, let me meet yours."
Her: "No."
Me: "Please?"
Her: "No."
Me: "Are you gonna say no to everything I say?"
Then she stood on her tippy toes and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me down to her level before digging her finger into my left cheek and kissing the other, when she pulled away, she said, "No." Then she left.
As I watched my best friend leave, I felt my face hurt, mainly because after meeting her just six days ago, I haven't stopped smiling, and she was the reason.