Tuesday comes again.
I'm not supposed to go to his office. That was the rule after we almost got caught.
No more office meetings. Too risky.
But Monday night, I get an email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Research Update Needed
Miss Lane,
I need to discuss some concerns about your latest data analysis. Can you come by my office Tuesday at 3 PM? This can't wait until next week.
EP
I stare at the email. The cursor blinks at me in the darkness of my room, the screen's glow the only light. Outside my window, I can hear the distant hum of traffic on Sunset Boulevard, the occasional burst of laughter from students walking past.
Read it three times.
He's breaking his own rule.
Asking me to come back to the place we both agreed was too dangerous.
I should say no. Should suggest somewhere public. The library. A coffee shop. Anywhere with witnesses.
Instead, I type: I'll be there.
Hit send before I can second-guess myself.
