Page 53 of EverGreene
“What is it, Loche?” I turned around in the hallway to face him.
“I’m going to grab something to eat. Why don’t you come with me? There’s this pub across the street that’s pretty decent.”
Was Loche Greene asking me out?“Uh, yeah. I know. I’ve worked here a little over a year, remember? I’ve been to the pub before.”
“Yeah, of course you have.” He paused, his face flushing in the terrible office lighting. “So, let’s go.”
“I, uh, I don’t know. I have a lot to get done yet tonight.”
“So do I. But you know what? There’s a little something called tomorrow. You’re going to work yourself into the ground if you keep this up. Besides, you need to eat. Even you can’t argue with that.”
“That’s not true. I’m quite adept at arguing about just about anything.”
“I’ve noticed. Look, this is me trying, Ever.” His brown eyes softened when they met mine. “Think of it this way, we can bill our meal to the firm, since I could categorize it as trial prep.”
“Free food, you say?”
“Not only free, but also at Conrad’s expense.”
It was appealing, but if I was going to leave now, I was going home, not out with my coworker who had been growing ever more annoyingly attractive since I quit thinking of him as Satan. Not to mention there was a package waiting for me at my front door, and I had just as much willpower as V thought I had—which was none at all. “Nothing personal, but if we’re closing up shop, I’m going home. How about a raincheck?”
Loche nodded. If he was disappointed, he was hiding it. “Boyfriend waiting for you?”
“Why? Are you jealous?” I countered, intending to turn the tables on him and leave the office with a triumphant fist pump in the air like Judd Nelson inBreakfast Club, having gotten in the last word for once. But as always, Loche seemed to be one step ahead of me.
“Yes, actually.” Even he looked taken aback by his response. I anticipated him rescinding it or spinning it into some sort of joke that would land him in Sylvia’s office if she were here. “Yes, Ever, I am. I’m astronomically jealous of anyone who gets to spend time with you.”
“Are you fucking with me right now?”
“What? No. Why—why would you think that?”
I shook my head, struggling to find an answer for him, coming up short instead. “You know what, I’m not doing this with you tonight.” If he was trying to get inside my head to fuck with me, he was doing a bang-up job, which I took as my cue to go home. Ignoring his protests, I turned on my heels and strode with purpose down the hall, stopping at our shared office just long enough to grab my tote bag and jacket before heading to the elevator. My heels echoed in the empty lobby as I walked past Shelby’s desk, smacking the elevator call button as though it were Loche’s face. In all our banter, I hadn’t pegged him as being cruel. A dick, sure. He had that mastered.
The elevator door slid open, and I walked in. My hand had just reached out for the button to choose the floor when Loche forced his way inside, stopping the door from closing with his forearm. The steel door slid back open, allowing him to step inside the car with me.
“Seriously? What is your problem?” I asked, slapping the button for the ground floor.
The doors closed, trapping us inside the cramped box together as the elevator began to descend, prompting Loche to hit the emergency stop button. A sharp jolt forced me to grab hold of the railing while an alarm sounded inside the car. My eyes drifted up to Loche’s face, catching another glimpse of the discoloration I’d noticed earlier. He’d tried to conceal it, but a hint of purple and green had bled through the makeup, indicative of a bruise.
“Ever, whatever I said back there to upset you, I’m sorry. I went too far, apparently, and I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Where did you get that bruise on your face?” I asked, ignoring his apology.
Loche put a hand up to his cheek. “I drank a little too muchover the weekend and smacked my face on my nightstand as I was getting into bed.”
“You’ve come to work with a lot of bruises. Are you that much of an alcoholic or are you engaging in…other activities?”
“I have an iron deficiency. It causes easy bruising.”
“All the more reason for you not to be drinking.”
“I can’t argue with you there.”
His answers were quick and measured, his eye contact unbroken as he spoke. A sign he was telling the truth. But I couldn’t quite stop myself from thinking his answers were a little too perfect, as though he’d stored his responses away in a mental filing cabinet, ready to pull out when he needed an out.
“What do you want from me, Loche?”
He rested his hand on the railing next to mine, leaning in as he answered me. “I just want you to realize I’m not the villain in your story.”
