Michael thought about this for a moment, putting the end of the pen back in his mouth. Should she say something? Point out that it was her damn pen he was chewing on? If she did, he might try to give it back to her. Maybe she should just slip it in his bag or pocket or something as he was leaving. Then wash her hands really carefully.
He snapped his fingers in her face again.
“Okay, you have got to stop doing that.”
“And you have got to stop zoning out.”
“Then you should probably be less boring when you talk.”
“You think coming up with a plan that will keep Stan from tearing both our heads off is boring? Fine, you deal with that shit on your own, then.”
“What? Why would Stan tear our heads off?”
“Oh, interested now, are we?” Michael opened the laptop again and picked up his chair to turn it very deliberately. Tessa fought the urge to kick him very hard under the table. The only thing that convinced her not to do it was the fact that she wasn’t wearing shoes. Growing up with an older brother had taught her that kicking someone in the shin while barefoot usually hurt you a lot more than it hurt them.