So this would be part two.
Monday
Washington DC
Basement office 1
1:47 AM
He was going to be professional if it killed him. But after two days stewing over what had happened in California, he was finding it harder to put into practice than he'd thought. Things would be markedly better if Monica would just look at him. It's not as if she would turn to stone if she made eye contact. "Have you finished with that witness statement?"
"Yeah. Here it is." Monica passed a folder across the desk.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
John had had enough. "Are you gonna spend the whole day looking at your desk, or are you actually gonna meet my eyes at some stage?"
Her head jerked up, still not quite looking at him, then quickly looked back down. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"No? Ever since California – "
"We shouldn't talk about California, John," she interrupted hastily. No, California was bad, what with the looking and staring and the oh-so-high curiosity factor.
"Maybe I want to talk about it."
"It's inappropriate," she said primly, and was surprised at how prudish she actually sounded, considering the route her mind was taking just hearing the word 'California.'
"For who? I'm the one who . . . I mean, it was me that . . . and if I can talk about it, I don't see why you can't."
"Because firstly, it's not the type of thing I should even be aware of, and secondly, I don't feel comfortable discussing it."
"Didn't know you were this squeamish."
"I'm not. Besides, it won't be a problem – not if we forget it ever happened."
"Problem?" His face tightened. She thought he had a problem? It was one thing for him to acknowledge it, but quite another for her to voice it.
Oh crap. She hadn't meant to give herself away. It was just that he wouldn't leave it alone, and she was feeling flustered and uncomfortable, and her mind kept revisiting the scene of the crime. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant . . . oh brother. See, this is exactly why I don't want to talk about it."
"Monica, it's not a problem."
"Of course not. I just . . . I mean, obviously it's not for you. But for me . . . I just need to put it out of my mind and things can get back to normal."
Great. Not only wouldn't she look at him, but she was patronising him now. "Really, I told you I'd prove it to you, and I meant it."
She wouldn't bite. She wouldn't bite. She wouldn't bite. Well, she actually did want to see what he was talking about, but she wasn't going to travel down that road. Something told her she'd get more than she bargained for if she took him up on that offer. So no, she didn't need to see his proof. Not at all. And if she repeated that to herself often enough, she might actually believe it. "And I told you it wasn't necessary."
"And I told you I thought it was." He would win this argument, he would. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would convince her that what she saw in California was just an aberration.
Monica met his eyes for the first time in two days. "John, it's fine. Let's just forget I ever saw what I saw and move on."
She hadn't turned to stone, but he would have preferred that to the look that was in her eyes right now. "Don't think I can do that."
"Well, you're going to have to. Get used to it."
"So you're sayin' you're never gonna give me the chance to explain?"
Her head dropped and her gaze went back to the desk. "You don't need to explain anything, and I'd really prefer that we just drop the subject."
John pushed himself up from the desk in disgust. Maybe he should just forget about it. If she couldn't even hear him out then she wasn't the woman that he thought she was. "I thought you were better than this," he said, and left the office.