Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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Tuesday rolls around, and as usual, I walk in with Chris's coffee, not really sure what to expect today. Yesterday, he acted like everything was perfectly normal, like nothing on Saturday even happened. He was focused, barely said two words to me, and left me completely baffled. The only thing I got from him was an invite to a Halloween party but other than that, nada.
Maybe he's changed his mind about being friends. Maybe that's better for both of us.
I step into his office, and he looks up with a bright gleam in his eyes. This man is super confusing. "Hey," I say, handing him his coffee.
"Hello," he replies, taking a sip, his eyes still locked on mine. I can't help but smile as I take a sip of mine, trying to figure out what to say. I want to stay a little longer, just to talk to him.
"So, anything I have to do today?" I ask, hoping to prolong the conversation. He shakes his head, still grinning. "Nope, just a normal day."
Well, this is just great. I nod, feeling a little awkward. He raises an eyebrow at me. "What?" he asks, clearly amused by something.
"What?" I repeat, feeling a bit flustered.
"You made a face," he says, his grin widening.
"Oh, it's nothing," I reply, though I'm not sure how convincing I sound.
"Come on, tell me," Chris insists, leaning forward slightly. I glance down at my coffee cup, debating whether to be honest or just brush it off.
"Well... Last Saturday, I said we're friends, but—"
"We are, aren't we?" he interrupts, catching me completely off guard. His eyes are bright, almost challenging me to contradict him.
I'm speechless for a moment, unsure how to respond. I was going to suggest that maybe we should keep things strictly professional, but now...
"I mean—" I start, but he cuts me off.
"Great! We'll go out after work," he declares, as if it's already decided.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. "As a friendly date... nothing else," he adds, his tone casual, though there's a playful glint in his eyes that makes my heart race. "By the way, you might want to start packing."
"Um, for what?" I ask, trying to keep up with his rapid change of topics.
"Paris," he says with a grin, like it's the most natural thing in the world. "We're leaving next Monday and won't be back until Friday."
Five whole days with him in Paris? That doesn't make me nervous at all.
"Five days?" I repeat, trying to sound cool and failing miserably.
"Yep, five days in the City of Love," he says with a wink. "Better start brushing up on your French."
I chuckle nervously, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. "I, uh, didn't know I needed to be fluent in French to get coffee."
