Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since Maisie and Brent had spoken a single word to each other. Brent hadn't spoken to anybody, really. He was angry and confused. Angry at himself, that is. He had always made himself promise to never catch feelings. Ever. He hated how they clouded your judgment and distracted him. They always complicated things, without a doubt.

Take Brent and Maisie, for instance. Ever since they locked lips, they both just sort of pretended like the other person wasn't there. The only acknowledgement they had given to the other person were extremely miniscule head nods as they would enter a room or pass each other, both of them being extra careful not to meet the eyes of the other. Brent had even taken the liberty of driving himself to work everyday so that they didn't have to be in the car together. And, in turn, Maisie skipped out on all meals with him and had to learn to cook real food for herself. She even had taken up a new schedule of not coming into Hollier Inc. until noon when she was sure that Brent was finished with is lunch.

The entire ride back down to their city had been one of the most uncomfortable things the two had ever had to experience in their entire lives. Maisie was sure that her family could sense the awkwardness from all the way in Georgia. The only thing that kept them the tiniest bit sane during those four hours was the music and hosts from the radio cutting through the heavy silence.

The only good thing that had come from this was that, since Brent wasn't speaking to anybody, he also hadn't yelled at anybody. And, to control all of his extra built-up anger, he hit the gym twice a day and took to letting out all of his problems on the punching bag. And, truthfully, neither of them could deny the fact that they were enjoying the results of it.

They were both being entirely too immature about this whole situation and they could easily admit that. But it was just so much easier to not do anything about it. Running away from the issue at had proved to be a lot less strenuous than to deal with things head-on. Though, they both knew that one of them would have to try and start handling things sooner or later.

And, for the first time in his life, Brent was going to try and mend his own issues. Because, honestly, he was tired of feeling even lonelier than he had before. And silent meals were far more tedious than he had remembered.

. . . .

Brent had purposefully waited an extra hour to go and eat. He knew that if he waited then he could eat at the same time that Maisie had started to eat her lunch.

He-very inconspicuously, he thought-waited outside of his office until he saw Maisie step out of the elevator and make her way down the opposite side of the hall and to his lunchroom. Coming into sight of the large glass doors, he couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth turn up a fraction of a millimeter at the sight of Maisie. She was sitting properly in his large and comfortable chair that was seated at the head of the table and was always reserved for him. If anybody else had even imagined sitting in that chair, he'd probably force them to eat on the floor. But Maisie, truthfully, looked at place in that chair. Which was so weird for him because he had always let something so silly as a chair to represent being in charge, but it's just what he did.

"You know," he began, "I'm starting to think that the only reason that you stopped talking to me is so that you could sit in my favorite seat whenever you get the chance." When he noticed that she was beginning to scramble to get all of her things up and move to a different seat, he quickly held his hand up and told her, "No, stay. I am perfectly capable of sitting in any of these other chairs. Besides, it suits you."

They sat in silence for quite a few more moments. Maisie was busy trying to decipher him and his words while Brent was worried that he should have written a list of icebreakers just in case he needed to use them.

Finally, Maisie spoke up, "I never planned on not speaking to you. I just really thought that you realized that you regretted what you did and didn't want to speak to me. Plus, it's so much easier to pretend like nothing happened than to actually handle things."

Slightly relieved that she didn't actually hate him, he answered, "Maisie, I always want to speak to you, honestly-and I can't even tell you why. And, no, we really didn't help things by not speaking about it but, what's done is done. Also, for the record, I don't regret what I did."

"So, you don't actually hate me?"

"God no. Not in a million years," he reassured.

Neither of them had intentions on ending the conversation there but they both had to take a few minutes to get their words together.

"Even though I haven't said it, I have been proud of you these past two weeks. I don't think I've heard you yell at a single person once. Maybe we should not talk to each other more often," she joked.

"No, I will force you to pinky promise me to never go that long without talking to me if I have to-that was horrible," he tried to play it off as a joke be he knew all too well how serious he really was, "but, no, I haven't yelled at one being at all. Granted, I haven't spoken to anybody but that's beside the point."

"Well, whatever it is that you're doing, keep it up. It is definitely working." On your anger issues and your biceps, she thought. Continuing with what she was saying, "We don't have to talk about what happened, if you don't want to. It'll probably be a whole lot easier if we don't. But can we at least go back to being friends? I miss that."

They were both slightly disappointed by her words. Neither of them wanted to pretend like nothing happened-they both rather enjoyed it. But, regardless, they had to be professionals, and kissing while your at a cabin four hours away was surely not professional.

"Yeah, Mace," he said, using the simple nickname that always made her heart flutter, "I'd love to go back to being friends. Best friends, even, as long as you don't tell Steven, that is."

"My lips are sealed, I promise," she grinned.

"So, I hope I'll see you at dinner tonight? And, if it's not pushing it, breakfast tomorrow?"

"I thought you'd never ask. Meals can be so boring when you have to eat them alone. Plus, I'm tired of having so many dishes in the sink from having to cook-and half-burnt omelets are getting tiring for breakfast."

"I'll make sure we have your favorite tomorrow, then: waffles. Sound like a deal?"

"Deal," she waited a few minutes with a growing smirk etching itself on her face, "best friend."