Adam replied: [Speak.]

I asked: [What would you do if someone owes you money but refuses to pay?]

Adam replied: [Court summons.]

I asked: [What if the amount is too small for a case?]

Adam replied: [The people I know aren't likely to owe such a small amount.]

I asked: [Is there any chance you owe someone money?]

Adam replied: [No.]

I asked: [How about you think carefully? One hundred dollars.]

Adam replied: [?]

I asked: [I mistakenly sent an extra hundred dollars. My input method messed up.]

Adam replied: [What exactly are you trying to say?]

I said: [You asked me to cover your takeout beforehand.]

After receiving the transfer from Adam, I felt a lot better.

That evening, I returned to the apartment I shared with Tiffany. I bought wine and ordered the burgers, planning to vent about the past few days.

"Tiffany, there's something wrong with me," I said seriously.

She replied casually, "I know. If you weren't, we wouldn't get along."

"No, I'm seriously not well!" Tiffany still thought I was joking.

"I get it. Who isn't a bit crazy from working?"

"Listen to me, I've caught a disease where I can only tell the truth!"

"What?"

I told her about how I'd been insulting Adam the past few days.

Tiffany stared at me. "Wow!"

"You help me figure something out now. If this keeps up, I'll be fired sooner or later." After all, my resentment toward Adam after two years of working for him is almost supernatural.

"But seriously, I think he likes you. Huh, you've been like this, and your boss hasn't fired you yet?"

"Pfft!" I spit out the wine before I could swallow it.

"Oh, the bossy CEO's sweet assistant." Tiffany started wiggling her eyebrows.

"Are you okay? Have you been reading too many novels?" I rolled my eyes.

"You read plenty of them back in school too!"

"Get real. There's no such thing as CEO romances in the real world. If this were a novel, I'd just be the overworked assistant. Besides, the boss is so cheap!" I paused. "Hey, maybe his mom will throw ten million dollars at me to leave him?"

"I have a friend who confessed to her boss. It didn't work out, but she started coming in late every day and slacked off for two months. Her boss was too embarrassed to fire her. Your boss is handsome and rich. If you confess and succeed, you get ten million dollars from his mom. If you fail, you get paid to slack off. It's a win-win!"

"I'm telling you, the only outcome is getting kicked out." I harshly interrupted her fantasy.

"Don't be so hard on yourself!"

"So I go up and say, 'Adam, I like you,' and he asks what I like about him. I say, 'I like your money.'

"Also, I admit Mr. Smith is good-looking. But when I see his face, I don't feel romantic. Most of the time, I just want to punch him."

"You've got a chance, but you just don't take it!" Tiffany said, taking a sip of wine.

"By the way, have you ever cursed me behind my back?"

I shook my head but didn't say a word.

Tiffany squinted her eyes. Her gaze turned dangerous. "Speak!"

"I have, I have."

"Why did you curse me? What did you say?"

"Because you like jerks. I called you a lovesick fool. Even zombies would laugh at you."

"Joanna, you've been single since birth, so you don't understand. You'll know when you're in a relationship."

"Thanks, but I'm not interested in marriage or kids."

"Down this bottle, and we'll still be friends."

"Cheers!"

...

After a few rounds, Tiffany and I were both a little drunk.

"Joanna."

"Yeah?"

"You're Adam's assistant, right? Can I ask you a few personal questions about him?"

"Go ahead."

"Do you think Adam washes his own socks?"

"Huh? I have no idea. Want me to ask?" I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.

"Hello?" A cool male voice answered.

"Mr. Smith, can I ask you a few personal questions? My friend is curious."

"Go ahead," he said.

"Do you wash your own underwear?"

He was speechless.

"Oh, is that too personal? Let me try another. Do you dislike women? Especially the ones with strong perfume? Or are you allergic to them?"

"No, but you're pretty annoying."

"Okay, next question. Do you have a stomach problem?"

"No."

"Mr. Smith, were you kidnapped as a child and saved by a little girl who became your first love?"

"Enough. I'm going to bed."

"Wait, Mr. Smith! You must have a young, handsome doctor friend, right? Can you send me his contact?"

He didn't reply.

"Hello? Mr. Smith, hello?" I looked at my phone. He hung up.

Tiffany hiccuped beside me. "Who's asking the questions here? Me or you?"

"Hey, besties share everything. Set the alarm for six. We'll shower and go to work tomorrow. Let's keep drinking."

"I hope you won't regret this when you sober up tomorrow," Tiffany muttered. She didn't even have time to stop me from making that call.