Yes, Sir.

Chapter 8: Friends

I love my job at Styles, honestly, but the atmosphere is so different from any other place I have worked before. At Miller, my boss was an old man of about fifty named Daniel Holt. Though we got along fairly well (until he fired me, that is), our conversations were always business related. Of course I had friends at the office, like Rachel....and Kenna, before she turned out to be an absolute hoe bag. And then there was Ryan, but he worked in accounting and I worked in sales retail so we never had to do business together.

But here at Styles, everything is just so different. For one, my boss can't be five years older than me, not to mention he acts like he's still in kindergarten. Everything here is so informal and sometimes it feels as if I work at a daycare instead of a largely successful company.

And the real kicker is that Harry and I have actually become pretty close once we called a truce. I'm closer to him than I ever was to Mr. Holt, that's for sure.

Everyone always told me I was a worrier, and now my natural instincts kick in. There's a very thin line between a business relationship and a personal one and somehow I feel like Harry and I are standing close to the edge.

+++++

My mind has been elsewhere all day, so I make sure to triple check the company models before I turn them in. When I finally show up to Harry's office, paper's in hand, it's past 6 o'clock.

"Oh good, you finally finished. Let me just send these real quick," he says when I hand him the files.

His eyes scan over the papers lazily at first, but the farther down he reads, the closer his eyebrows come together in frustration.

"Something wrong?" I ask.

"Yeah, these models are," he snaps, looking up at me with a hard gaze. "Leah, some of these numbers don't match at all!"

"What?" I grab the papers back from him. "That can't be right, I triple checked everything!"

"Yeah, well maybe you should have quadruple checked," he growls. "Damn it. These were supposed to be sent in tonight and you totally screwed them up."

It only takes that one sentence to flare up my anger. "I typed up exactly what you gave me Harry, do not try to put this on me."

He looks at me again, and I'm glaring at him. He scoffs incredulously and waves the papers in the air.

"Are you trying to say this is my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine!" I say angrily. "I just typed what was on the sheet you gave me this morning!"

"What sheet?" Harry's shouting now, his green eyes black with anger. "I didn't give you anything this morning!"

"Yes you did, do you not remember me frantically searching your office for it this morning? And you had it on your desk all along? Remember that, Harry?"

Obviously he does remember, because a look of realization dawns on his face. "Okay, but that still doesn't make any sense, because the models here are way different than the ones I gave you earlier today."

"Jesus, what do you want me to do? I did exactly what you asked and now you're just yelling at me for something I had no control over," I point out in a loud voice.

"You know what, I'll just type up the models myself, since you're obviously incapable," he sneers before turning to his computer, effectively dismissing me. He's so rude I just stand there and gape at him for a few seconds.