Page 42 of Pucking Matt
“This is your fun job, remember? It’s still fun, even if Matt’s in the mix. Are you done with the other two?”
I nod, handing the sandwiches over. I stay at the cutting board, annoyed that Matt’s behind me. I can hear the smile in his tone, and the sound makes me sick to my stomach.
“Alright, Matt. Nice to meet you. The next time I come in, you’ll be making the sandwiches.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt says.
I clean the little mess I made with the lettuce.
“What’s the matter, Amby?” Matt says, leaning down to look at the ingredients. “You’re looking a bit tense. Is it the sound of my voice?”
“That you were born at all actually.”
He blows out hot air. “Then you would be living such a boring life right now.”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes. “I would be able to sleep at night if you didn’t exist.”
The doorbell rings but Jen’s already greeting the couple.
“You lose sleep over me, Amby?”
I glare at him. He should be counting his blessings that I am controlling myself.
I grab his wrist, but he pulls away. I glance down at his hand. No touching it will be then. He follows me to the back.
“Matt,” I scoff. Anger is simmering at the top, and I’m trying not to let it explode.
“Amber.”
“If you’re working here, we need to steer clear of each other. I’ll treat you like any other coworker–”
“No, you won’t.”
“I won’t, but we need to figure this out if you’re going to work here.”
“It sounds like you need to figure it out, so stay out of my way until you do.”
I scoff. “Stay out of your way? I have to train you.”
“I catch on quick.”
I storm off and help Jen with this order. While I’m waiting for the bread to toast, I feel Matt’s presence behind the counter. He’s gone to a crazy extent. I mean, he’s working here.Hereatthe Grind Stone. I’m not wrong for thinking this is insane. He is insane.
And maybe if I play this right, he won’t win.
Professional Amber is who I’m going to be…and she is kind, neutral, and never a hater.
The next day.
Before I can even sit at my desk, Mr. Robinson is already barking orders at me.
“Amber! My office.”
I pivot towards his door.
“We've got a new divorce case,” Mr. Robinson says without preamble as I enter. “I need you to prepare the documents to serve the husband with divorce papers. And read through all of this,” he adds, dumping a stack of files on his desk.
“Of course, Mr. Robinson. I'll get right on it.”
