Spring [Completed]

FOURTEEN

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HIM

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"We both drowned under the waves of words we weren't saying."

—Ben Maxfield

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"Oh my God, Imani," I groan in satisfaction, taking another bite of my burger before glancing over at her. "I haven't had a burger this good in ages."

A small smile plays on her face as she shakes her head, typing steadily on her laptop. I watch as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before glancing at me briefly. "I don't want to say I told you so but..."

I chuckle. "Once again you're right, Imani. Is that what you want to hear?"

Her brown eyes crinkle as she smiles, nodding slightly. "Literally every second of every day."

I shake my head, tearing my gaze away from her as my phone buzzes in my lap. My mom's icon flashes across the screen and I immediately frown. I knew I'd forgotten to do something. I glance at my phone and back up at Imani as she speaks. Reluctantly, I hit decline and mute my phone, before sliding it back into my pocket.

"So, Imani," I say, interrupting her mindless rambling. "Are you planning on eating your burger any time soon?" Leaning forward, I rest my hand on the burger lying on her desk. "Because if not—"

"Touch my food if you want to," she says smirking. "I wonder how difficult operating with only seven fingers would be..."

My mouth hangs open as I lift my hands in surrender. "Alright then. Remind me not to ever come between you and your food."

She laughs, typing one last thing before shutting her laptop. "Okay, all done. I'm all yours for the next hour."

Her eyes meet mine and something foreign flickers in them before she glances away, unwrapping her burger. I clear my throat, turning my attention to the stapler on her desk. After a thorough inspection, I place it back in it's spot and tap my finger against the vase filled with a beautiful assortment of flowers.

"These are nice," I say, glancing over at her when I feel her gaze on me.

"I guess," she says, taking a sip of her drink.

I watch as she avoids my eyes, glancing down at her food with fake intent.

Curious, I press on. "An arrangement like this can only mean two things." I shake my head, remembering the countless times I'd bought flowers similar to these for my ex wife. "Either it's your anniversary or he royally screwed up." Judging by the fact that Imani's eating lunch with me today instead of her husband, I feel it safe to assume the latter.

My suspicions are confirmed when Imani doesn't say anything. Leaning my elbow on the desk, I duck my head, trying to catch her eye. "Imani—"

I flinch as she stands, abruptly, picking up the vase and tossing them into the trash. The vase and flowers land in the trash with a loud thud, as she stands over them, seething quietly in repressed anger. Her chest rises and falls slowly, as she balls her small hands in fists at her side. "I don't even like flowers," she mutters meekly before plopping down in her seat.