Chapter 7

"Miss Mark," Hames called. "The Manager of 'Friz and co.' will be here in a few minutes. I hope everything is ready?"

"Uh— yeah, sure." I scratched my arm, dropping the files on his table. "I'll send the remaining part of it to your email."

He hummed a response. His fingers drummed on his laptop keys really fast, forming the beat of a song.

Seriously? He hadn't said a thing about last Saturday. Was he really going to ignore it? I felt his gaze on me, so I raised my head to stare at him.

"What do you want?" He questioned crankily.

"Nothing." I shook my head.

"If it's about last Saturday, don't think I care. Hearing such words from people isn't a new thing to me." He explained. Unconsciously, a smirk played on my lips, forming a frown on his face. "It doesn't mean you should say it all the time, and in public. Gossipers are always around, ready to feed the internet with even the slightest mistake people like us make so your words could be manipulate