The rest of the evening, I end up in Bael's home office.
Not because I want to be there, obviously. I have dignity.
But during lunch, after that completely unnecessary kiss in the study and the emotional damage that followed, Bael had calmly informed me that whenever he works from home, I should bring my sketches to the small table by the window in his office so he could "keep an eye on me."
"Keep an eye on me?" I'd repeated, fork pausing halfway to my mouth.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"So I know you're not overexerting yourself."
The audacity of this man. I wanted to refuse on principle, to tell him that if he was so concerned he could come find me himself, but somehow I still ended up here anyway, sketchbook in hand, sitting at the small table while he works at his desk across the room looking unfairly composed.
It's irritating.
