“That can be arranged.” Flash Fiction for Siobhan Muir’s #ThursThreads

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“You’re still here?” I stopped at the door to Mark’s office, a stack of files in my arms. “I thought I was the only one dumb enough to leave these until the end of the month.”

He looked up from the pile of papers on his desk with a weak smile. His typically bright blue eyes were dark and puffy. “Nope. Just as dumb.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. It read seven-thirty. “I haven’t even had dinner yet.”

Poor guy. He looked exhausted. He had been the new guy before I got hired, and he had helped me out more than anyone else had bothered to in the firm. I figured he was merely being nice, but I hoped there was more to it. I had a bit of a crush on him.

“I have some leftover Kung Pao in the fridge.” I shifted the files to rest against my hip.

“Really?” He perked up.

I nodded.

“What do you want for it?”

His question surprised me. I couldn’t tell if he was being flirty, but decided to take a chance. “I’ve been on my feet all day. I could really use a foot massage.”

He ran a hand through his hair and grinned. “That can be arranged. And maybe if I do a good job, you’ll give me a neck rub?”

My night just got ten times better. I chuckled. “Deal.”

Copyright: nyul / 123RF Stock Photo

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