Chapter Seven:
WILL:
"But now Alicia says she can't just up and leave since Sasha's Boutique is currently experiencing a crisis with the latest shipment. I swear we'll never get to our honeymoon. Just as well since Bains is practically breathing down my neck," Rupert complained as he shrugged on his trench coat and picked up his leather briefcase. He carried on, "Rumor has it that we'll start having to work through lunch. Apparently Paxton heard it from Bains' secretary. Evans won't say a peep, but surely he wouldn't actually agree with the Yank, right?"
I shrugged, not actually invested in this conversation. I then thought better of it, and took the opposite side of the argument just so I could potentially see that irritated look flitter across Rupert's face, "Well, an hour for lunch really isn't needed – it's actually quite inefficient."
Bingo. There was that annoyed look – the look that signaled I had successfully gotten under his skin. Pretending not to notice, I focused on buttoning my own jacket before checking my watch. I had exactly 15 minutes to get to the train station that was only two blocks away from here.
"Well, that's because you work through lunch," Rupert muttered. Again, I pretended not to notice and instead started to head towards the elevator. He hurried after me, "How's the Andrez account coming along? Evans says that if all goes right, five percent of this quarter's earnings will come from that account. Lucky you are to have it."
"It's fine," I replied back as I stepped into the elevator. I wasn't interested in prolonging the conversation any more than what was natural. Rupert had a tendency to be able to construct a conversation out of nothing but a few words from his victim. I knew. Not only had he used it upon me, but I had the same talent. It came in handy during business affairs.
The ride down to the main lobby was in complete silence – the hum of the elevator being the only noise that came in between me and my ex-best friend. I didn't need to glance at him to know that he was utterly annoyed at my behavior. And I didn't mind. In fact, it cheered me up a bit that I had been so successful – a much needed change in mood ever since the weekend.
The reminder of what had occurred this past weekend suddenly emerged in my brain. But as the elevator doors opened, I straightened my posture and suppressed any thoughts of the weekend. It was irrelevant. I had thought about it all Sunday and Monday and had come to this conclusion: surely Clark wasn't that mad at me. Or if she was, it would quickly pass over. It was a lesson learned: Clark and I had different types of humor. Obviously she disliked the good humored joke I had played on her, and she had every right to feel that way even if that did confirm my opinion that she was boring.
I repeated these thoughts to myself, my confidence rising. Yes, this was truly what was going on. She had called off work on Monday because she was indeed sick. Today, when I arrived back in the town, I would find her and Nathan behind the counter.
The thought brought me comfort.
NATHAN:
I eyed her suspiciously as she wiped the counter, claiming she had found crumbs and stains which I personally believed to be nonexistent. She scrubbed furiously, applying what looked to be a little too much pressure than what would have been considered normal. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, wondering if I should dare ask her what was wrong.
"Louisa," I said aloud, not even realizing that her name had been said by me until after she made eye contact. I had no choice but to carry on now. "You're awfully quiet today," I said, hoping that this would be enough for her to speak.
It was true. She was rather quiet today, only saying the occasional few words to the customer as need be.
I watched as she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly before focusing her attention back to the counter, scrubbing away. I watched as her knuckles turned white from the pressure.
I pursed my lips slightly, wondering if I should push. Ah, but it really wasn't my business, was it?
"Well," I found myself saying, as if I needed to somehow fill the silence. "You can take off early if you'd like today. You worked awfully hard." I was hoping I would get some sort of smile, perhaps a look of relief. But instead she just nodded, her face blank – her eyes distant. I leaned against the counter, watching her as she scuttled around the area and put away her apron.
"See you tomorrow," I added quickly as she shrugged on her coat and somehow in record time made her way towards the exit.
"Yes, tomorrow," she replied.
At this point, I was extremely puzzled. My eyes lingered on her figure as she left the vicinity, and I found myself wondering what would inspire her to be in such a mood. It was such a stark contrast compared to her usually bubbly self.
"Where's Louisa, Nathan?"
That interrupted any thoughts I had. I blinked a couple times in order to have my eyes focus on the new figure that stood in front of me at the counter. Will Traynor. He stood there, in all his glory. His coat was clutched in his hand and his cheeks were a little flushed. His breathing pattern wasn't quite as normal as I thought it would be. Did he hurry to the castle's cafe? But what reason would he have to dash over here after work?
Not that it was my business.
"Nathan?" he prodded, looking at me still.
I cleared my throat, "She went home. You just missed her." I added as if it would be any help, "I told her she could leave a few minutes early. She was quite the hard worker today."
I watched Will Traynor's Adam's apple bob just a little bit before he nodded stiffly. It was a few moments of silence as I watched him shrug his coat back on before checking his watch. He then glanced at me, "Right, well…make sure you lock up correctly."
And with that, he pivoted and left the premises.
Author's note: Yes, I know it's been forever. With that said, where do you think Will is going?