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“Mr. Shadowvale,” I say.
“Ah, so you remembered my name.”
No need to be a dick.
I paste a smile on my face. He can tell me whatever it is that he wants to, and then I’ll figure out what I’m supposed to be doing for lunch. Maybe I can grab a sandwich from a convenience store down the road. Hell, there could be a vending machine in this building somewhere that I’m unaware of. The only thing I care about is that the food is fast, easy, and cheap. The less I spend, the more I can save up to find Aaron.
“Can I help you?”
“I believe you can,” he says.
“How can I be of assistance?”
“We need to order lunch.”
“Order lunch?” I can’t tell if he wants to cater lunch for a meeting or if he literally means for the two of us. Am I supposed to buy him lunch?
“Yes,” he says. Ryan seems completely unconcerned with my inner turmoil. I was thinking that I’d spend like five bucks on lunch. Ordering in feels expensive. Just the tip alone could be five bucks or more.
“What do you mean?”
“We need to catch up before our afternoon meetings.”
“I have meetings?”
“Yes, that’s what I need to catch you up on. Order us something from Exquisite.”
“The restaurant downtown?” That place is so far out of my price range that it’s insane.
“Yes,” he says. “I don’t care what you order me. Just get two meals and have it delivered. Here.” He drops a credit card on my desk. “When it arrives, let me know.” Then he turns to leave, and I’m left alone with a shiny black credit card and orders to buy us lunch.
“You totally got this,” I lie to myself.
Totally.
EATING LUNCH TOGETHER shouldn't be something that terrifies me. Most of the time, I consider myself to be something of a normal person who doesn't get scared of lunch or eating, but that doesn't seem to be the case when it comes to Ryan. With him, the world seems hard and heavy. Everything I've ever known - all of the lessons I've learned throughout my life - seem to be colliding with who I am in the present and with where I'm existing right now.
I order the food, but I don’t really understand why this is something he’s chosen to do as a business expense. It's a waste of money and not that difficult to go downstairs, walk down the street, and pick up an order of food. This is his life, though. It's his money. I'm being shoved into his reality, and it's a place I don't really feel comfortable. It's a place I don't really understand.
"We'll eat in the conference room," he says, and he leads me to the door in his office that opens directly into the conference room. This is another one of those rich-boy perks, I suppose. Everything in Ryan's life is carefully designed to be good for him. People cater to him all of the time. His every whim is not only accounted for but anticipated.
I'll never know what this is like.
"Of course," I say. I follow him into the conference room, and we sit down across from each other at the table. He places the two box lunches in front of us. I open mine carefully, slowly, and pull out a turkey sandwich that's on a croissant, a side dish that could potentially be fries, a salad, and a cookie. The cookie is the thing I'm most excited for, and Ryan seems to notice this.
"Is it agreeable to you?"
"Yes."
"You like cookies."
This isn't a question, but a statement of fact. I look up at Ryan and nod. I feel like this is something weird that I should probably lie about, but I don't really want to bring myself to do that. I don't mind lying when I'm in survival mode, but I don't feel like I'm actively trying to survive anymore. Instead, I feel like I'm finally at a place where I can relax, if only for a little while.
“I like cookies. I used to bake them with my brother.”
Crap. I didn’t mean to share anything personal today.
“Me too.”
