Rain In July //Itachi Uchiha

Ch Four

Itachi sat at his desk, trying desperately ignore a stack of paperwork, when his phone buzzed.

He lifted the device, reading the text displayed across the screen with a raise of an eyebrow.

July 11:48 AM

- wanna grab lunch? my treat

He hummed slightly, sliding the message over and typing in his password. He typed his response, getting a reply a minute or so later.

Itachi 11:49 AM

-Sure. Where at/what time?

July 11:51 AM

-fancy. ihop, whenever you get there.

His eyebrow arched again, though didn't bother to question her restaurant choice. He pushed away from his desk, tucking his phone in his pocket and grabbing his keys. He opened the door to his office and returned the stare his secretary gave him.

"Hold all calls. I'm going out for lunch." She grinned slightly, nodding in understanding.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the tall blonde, would it?" she questioned. He stared at her coolly before sliding his eyes forward.

"Hn."

She laughed as he walked away, still grinning when her phone rang.

Itachi had seen the photos already; most were blurry shots taken from in between party-goers or on cell phones, but each held the same thing; Itachi Uchiha and an unknown blonde. The news had calmed down in the four days since the party, most just wondering who July was instead of questioning the fact that Itachi was with her.

He stepped out of the elevator that lead to the lower level, walking towards his car and unlocking it. He slid into the drivers seat and turned the car on, cranking the air to full blast as he pulled out of the lot.

xxx

"So," July questioned, cutting a piece of her stuffed French toast and shoving it in her mouth. "You dress like that everyday?" she asked, swallowing the sweet bread.

Itachi regarded her with his signature stare. "Do you dress like that everyday?" he pointed towards her loose tank top and leggings, dingy moccasins completing the look. She didn't have makeup on, something Itachi had seen the first time they met, and her hair winded down her back in a tight French braid.

"Hell yeah," she said, punctuating it with a sip of her coke, "I dress for comfort, most of the time. When I go out, I dress to astound."

"You need to try harder on that," he teased, ignoring the kick sent to his shin. He cleared his throat. "I dress according to company policy," he said, glancing at his black slacks and matching dress shirt, "I only do the minimum most days, though."

"I like it," she shrugged and used her fork to attack her food, "It makes you look important. I couldn't do it, though."

He smirked. "Look important?"

She laughed, ignoring his teasing, and leaned back in her chair. "No, idiot. I couldn't sit in an office nine to whenever you go home, everyday. Any day. I think I'd go insane."

"It's not that bad."

"I couldn't do it. I like hands on stuff better, anyways."

He hummed. "What do you do?"

She shrugged and pushed her empty plate forward, picking up her glass. "A little of this, a little of that. A lot of that."

He quirked an eyebrow, something he had been doing often lately. "Fancy."