A SEAT
848 Words
Chapter Eight
I was still organizing the last batch of documents when the door creaked open and Mrs. Langston stepped inside. She looked at the screen, then at the neat stack of papers on the desk.
“You’re efficient,” she said. “I appreciate that.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” I replied, sitting up straighter.
She paused, then added, “Lunch is ready. Join us.”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“You’ve been working all morning. You’ll eat with us. It’s just lunch, Miss Whites. Not an invitation to move in.” She turned and walked out before I could respond.
---
The dining room was breathtaking. Soft sunlight spilled through tall windows, illuminating the long marble table dressed in elegant simplicity—white dishes, fresh flowers, and clean, modern lines. It was calm and expensive-looking, like everything else in this house.
Micah was already seated when I arrived. His curls were pushed back, still slightly damp from his workout earlier. He looked fresh and dangerously casual in a white T-shirt and dark jeans. He saw me, grinned, and stood to pull out the chair beside him.
“Saved you a seat,” he said.
I smiled shyly and sat down.
Mrs. Langston was at the head of the table, barely glancing up from her tablet. “We're having grilled chicken, asparagus, couscous. Dessert’s light.”
The chef began serving as we settled in.
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” I said quietly to Micah.
“Fate,” he said, smirking. “Or maybe just great timing.”
Halfway through the meal, I felt something brush against my foot under the table. I froze. A second later, it happened again—light and unmistakable.
I glanced at Micah, who was calmly sipping from his glass like nothing had happened.
“Stop that,” I whispered.
“Stop what?” he replied innocently, eyes on his plate.
“You know what.”
“You mean this?” He nudged my foot again, just barely.
I turned to my plate, biting back a smile. “You’re such a child.”
“And yet… effective.”
---
Dessert was a lemon mousse in tiny glass cups—fancy and way too pretty to eat quickly. I was halfway through mine when Micah leaned back and said, “Mind if I steal Rina for a bit?”
Mrs. Langston barely looked up. “Ten minutes. Then I need her back.”
Micah stood and offered me his hand with a playful little bow. I rolled my eyes but took it anyway.
He led me outside to the back garden—lush, calm, and almost too perfect. The wind moved softly through the hedges. Water bubbled gently from a modern stone fountain.
We sat on a bench near the shade of a tree.
“Okay,” I said, “so what’s the important thing you needed to talk about?”
He looked at me, thoughtful. “I just wanted more time with you. You’re interesting.”
I blinked. “Interesting?”
“Yeah. You’re quiet but sharp. And you don’t fawn over people like my mom expects most new employees to.”
“She terrifies me,” I admitted.
“She terrifies everyone.”
There was a pause between us comfortable this time.
“I’ve been rejected a lot,” I said quietly. “Jobs, interviews, opportunities… Sometimes I feel like I’m always the runner-up. Like I almost get there, but not quite.”
Micah didn’t interrupt. He just listened.
“But being here—it feels like maybe this time, I’ll matter.”
He tilted his head. “You already do.”
The way he said it made me look away.
“And what about you?” I asked. “What keeps you up at night?”
He chuckled. “Caffeine, mostly. And trying to figure out if I’m living the life I want, or the one that looks good on paper.”
I smiled. “That's deeper than I expected from someone who plays footsie at the dinner table.”
He leaned in a little, voice low. “You bring out the deep in me.”
I rolled my eyes, fighting back a laugh.
But when I glanced at my phone screen, everything in me froze.
2:47 PM.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, jumping up. “Your mom said ten minutes—it’s been almost thirty!”
Micah didn’t move from the bench. He just grinned, watching me scramble.
“You were distracting me!” I accused, fixing my hair as I backed toward the house.
“And yet, you stayed,” he said, all too pleased with himself.
“I have work to finish!”
“I’m just saying…” He leaned back with a lazy grin. “My presence has that charm.”
I shook my head, half laughing as I turned and jogged toward the house.
“You’ll be thinking about me all afternoon” he called after me.
And the annoying part was he was probably right.
- Writer
