troubled | e.d.

nine

tessa

ethan's file: secured.

i put it back in his box and even surprised myself with my willpower of not touching through anything else. i simply slipped it back in and closed the cabinet quickly, trying to find another excuse to get daryl's key ring so i can return the gold key.

all i had to do was say my grape soda got stuck in the machine, and he handed it right over.

currently my dad is in a meeting, and i'm sitting at my desk in his office, staring out the window at the pretty trees outside.

a light knock comes to the door, and i turn my head.

ethan leans up against the door frame, his usual smirk present on his face.

"car lights working well?"

"perfectly fine," i grin.

"you're clever. tricky."

i shrug. "it's what i do."

he motions his head to the filing cabinet and asks, "so i'm guessing you put it away?"

"you would be guessing correctly."

"and i'm also gonna guess that you'll never open it again, even if i ask you to?"

"wow! you're on an answer streak. correct again!" i exclaim with fake enthusiasm.

he smiles. "hey, i was wondering if—"

a hand clamps down on ethan's shoulder, stopping his sentence. my dad look at me with his head tilted down, eyes disappointed. he then looks to ethan, who sighs, defeated.

"is this social interaction i see?" he asks.

"he was asking for a paper clip," i lie smoothly, reaching into my desk and pulling one out. i toss it to him, and he catches it with ease.

"let's go, ethan," my dad says tiredly, beginning to drag him away. he waves at me as he gets pulled along, earning a grumble from my father and a laugh from me.

the smile is still on my face as i go to the break room for lunch, instantly drooling over the fact that someone ordered pizza for the office. i take a couple slices of double cheese and find mary-anne in the corner with a salad, staring down at her phone.

usually i eat with my dad in his office, but it seems like he's busy with ethan right now doing god knows what. so i guess i'm stuck in the break room to fend for myself.

"hey," i say as is slide down in the seat across from mary-anne.

she looks up and smiles, then shuts off her phone. "what's up, buttercup?"

"nothing much," i answer truthfully, taking a slice off my plate and biting into the tip piece. "kind of just floating around today. lame friday."

"totally understand," she nods. "your father's been so caught up in his own work that he's barely given any to me. it's weird, but i'm not going to complain."