I could still feel the intensity of his eyes and the weight of his words the next day.
He would protect me. I had friends.
I should have been thrilled that he thought of himself as my friend and protector. So why did I feel disappointed?
I did my best to distract myself by working hard. If he was going to spend time thinking about protecting me, I was going to do my best on the orphanage story.
It was six forty-five and everyone at Social Scene was gone by six at the latest. I was able to do good work in the quiet office, and I stiffly got up from my desk, hitting save on my document before grabbing my bag and heading through the empty cubicles toward the elevators.
I steeled myself as I got out at the 14th floor penthouse to face Jessica and her latest snide comment, but when the d
