Max expected Megan to avoid him at all costs the next day at work. After an incident like that, he would have hesitated even coming to work. The thought of having to face a potential embarrassing conversation with people he was only vaguely familiar with left him squeamish.
But much to his surprise, Megan had shown up, dressed and made up as usual, acting as if nothing had happened. She’d even given him a small smile and a way when she’d come in. He had to admit that she was a strong woman, and he was a shy introvert who couldn’t last half an hour at any given social gathering.
His thoughts were interrupted by David slapping a new assignment onto his keyboard. Max jumped, nearly yelling out at the unexpected appearance of his boss. David chuckled, patting Max’s shoulder.
“You make it too easy, Max. Don’t be so skittish. Anyways, I’ve got this story on a local writing competition. I’d like you to cover it since Devin over there broke his hand.” He directed his gaze to another journalist, a sandy-haired man with large glasses as he pecked away at his keyboard one at a time. David scowled, obviously unhappy that one of his employees were currently out of commission. “Drop it on my desk by Tuesday morning. Make me proud.” He gave Max’s shoulder one more firm pat before heading to the receptionist area.
Max took a deep breath, willing his rapidly-beating heart to calm down. That was one thing he hated, how easily he was scared. Maybe if he started watching scary movies it would help? He shook his head, picking up the new assignment and looking over the details.
“Hey…Max?” A soft female voice called from behind him. Glancing back, he saw Megan peeking her head into his cubicle. She smiled softly.
“I uh…just wanted to say thanks again for, you know, last night.” Her repeated thanks was making him nervous. He glanced away, swiveling in his chair to distract him from his growing anxiety.
“Ah, there’s no need to thank me. It was nothing.” He scratched the back on his neck, feeling the heat there and cringing. He hoped his face wasn’t bright red by now. Megan stared at him for a second, before nodding slowly.
“Right. Well, I’d better get back to my exciting new assignment on the little boy that somehow got his bike stuck in a tree.” She rolled her eyes with a grin. Max couldn’t help but smile back.
“I guess I should be glad I got the writing competition then.” Megan’s ears perked up.
“Writing competition?” He nodded, grabbing the details and handing them over.
“It’s next week. They take submissions for every category of writing and the panel of judges picks the three best winners to publish in their newsletter.”
Megan smiled, finally handing the papers back. “Sounds exciting. Maybe I’ll enter a poem or two.”
“You write?” He asked in surprise. He didn’t see her as the kind of person who wrote. She always had that outgoing personality that made him think she was always somewhere else, with someone else, doing something fun. To his question, she laughed.
“No, but I’m sure I could dig out a couple haikus from fifth grade. You know, something like, ‘The flower is pretty. Red is my favorite color. I just love flowers.’” They laughed, and Max wasn’t feeling quite so embarrassed as before. At least she wasn’t thanking him anymore. He couldn’t handle that.
“Megan! I wanna see that report on my desk by lunch!” David called, spotting her talking with Max. He walked away, probably to ride someone else’s rear about deadlines. Pursing her lips, Megan gave a little smile.
“Well, I’d better start writing that ‘headlining’ story about the boy and his bike.” She said sarcastically.
“Don’t want David to get mad.” Max agreed with a smile, seeing her give a wink before disappearing behind the wall. He sighed quietly, turning back to his computer. He hadn’t realized how often Megan talking to him until then. Several times a day she’d pop her head around the wall, telling him funny things and participating in their own version of gossip. Though, Max wouldn’t really call it that. Mostly, Megan just sat there telling him things that had happened over the weekend and such.
His eyes fell onto the new assignment. He was actually very happy that he’d been assigned this one. The thought of a writing contest intrigued him. He’d never participated in one before, but maybe if he wrote anonymously he could work up the courage to finally send in a submission. Biting his lip, he set aside the papers and promptly went to work finishing his old story.
It only took another half hour before he created a creative title and signed off on the bottom. Printing it all out, he rose and took it to David’s desk. His office was ornate, but simplistic. A Newton’s Cradle sat on the edge of the desk, still swaying back and forth from when it had been used before.
Max turned, heading out the door and towards the break room for lunch. It wasn’t often he associated with the rest of the staff, he normally just ate at his desk alone, or sometimes with Megan when Angela, one of the receptionists, got on her nerves. Still, his lunchbox was in the fridge, and so he went to retrieve it.
Devin and Angela were eating from their own lunches in the corner, talking quietly. A handful of others were scattered about the tables. Only a few looked up when Max entered. Good, he didn’t like being the center of attention anyways. Wandering over and opening the fridge, he took out his box. Closing the door, he headed towards the door.
The conversation between people was low, but within the idle gossip, he could pick out a few words.
‘Megan,’ ‘affair,’ and ‘Max’ were what reached his ears a few times. Internally, he froze. Stopping mid-stride would indicate that he heard their words being whispered amongst themselves. Forcing his steps to continue naturally, he went back to his desk.
They thought the two of them were having an affair? Or was Seth having an affair with someone besides Megan? Max had been the one to be there to help. Or Megan was having an affair with someone besides Seth? The rumors were certainly discouraging, especially since he was being thrown in the mix. He didn’t want any drama within the workplace. He hated drama. Max never knew how to respond or work around the stuff.
Deftly, he realized he’d made it to his desk, and sat down stiffly. Setting down his lunch, he discovered he wasn’t all the hungry anymore. His racing thoughts had taken away any desire to eat. Instead, he stared down at his still-closed lunch box with dread. He didn’t like rumors. And he didn’t like being part of them.
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