I am slightly giddy when I enter my apartment building that evening. I'd spent the rest of the day in the city, shopping and treating myself to lunch. I take the stairs to my apartment instead of the elevator and consider going one extra flight to talk to purple boy and get his story. Michael.
I am still slightly irritated at him for deliberately messing with my head, but my emotions are conflicting. He did practically secure the job for me. I resolve to talk to him later; it's not difficult to tell when he is home.
The heavy grocery bag in my arms makes unlocking my door twice as difficult as usual, but I manage. I toss the keys on top of a stack of folded towels, making a mental note to put those away later. Things seem to add up so much around here, there is always something to do. Living on your own is not as glamorous as I had always imagined it would be.
"Need a hand?"
"OH!" I scream, jumping backward and dropping the grocery bag onto the counter.
Michael laughs loudly from the barstool across the kitchen from me, leaning his elbows onto the counter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"How the fuck did you get in here?" I ask, placing my hand over my racing heart.
"Key under the doormat," he smirks.
"What are you doing here?" I ask faintly.
"Well I came to drop off your towels, which I did wash, per your request. And then I decided that I would stick around to see how your interview with my sister went." He eyes the grocery bag in my hand. "And now I am considering staying for dinner."
"Get out!" I huff, pointing to the door.
"That's not the nicest way to talk to your new boss' family."
"Out, purple boy!"
"Oh right, we've never formally met." He stands up, extending his hand to me. The gesture is polite but the attitude behind it is mocking. "Michael Clifford."
I fold my arms across my chest, pointedly ignoring his outstretched hand. He laughs before conceding, and I am almost certain that he is going to leave before he walks back and takes his seat at the barstool.
"You don't really have to tell me anything about you, Katherine Williams. I read your file. Straight A Student in high school, B and C student in college. Waitressing twice as many hours as your schoolwork. And now I guess, personal assistant to Dana Hawksley."
"You read my file?" I ask. Everything he does pisses me off.
"Yes. I am very unprofessional."
"I could report you," I scoff.
"Would you?" He asks, knowing full well that I wouldn't. "Thought so," he smirks when I fail to answer him.
"You are an asshole," I huff.
"Yep," he says with a shrug. "So what's for dinner?"
"I'm not feeding you."
"I figured you would say that. I ordered a pizza."
"Michael!"
"So you can use my name! Good to know. I was getting a little worried. 'Purple boy' was starting to grow on me though, I have to admit." Everything he says is accompanied by a satisfied smirk, and I know that he is pleased with his little game. I just glare at him before he softens slightly. "I was going to pay for it," he says quietly. "I'll buy you dinner if you let me stay."
"Why do you want to stay?" I ask.
"I'll tell you if you let me," he challenges right back.
I consider my options, curiosity eventually winning out over stubbornness. "Fine," I sigh.
