The long meeting finally came to a close, the hum of discussions gradually fading as the last of the attendees filtered out of the boardroom. Mark leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The digital clock on the wall read 5:03 PM. It had been a grueling day, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was relieved or simply drained.
Emily approached him, phone in hand, scrolling through messages. "Done saving the world?" she teased, glancing up with a smirk.
Mark chuckled, grabbing his laptop bag. "Something like that. Let's get out of here."
The elevator ride to the ground floor was quiet, save for the occasional ping of Emily's notifications. Mark's mind drifted to his friends, who had texted earlier, urging him to meet them at Johnny's Diner. They hadn't all been in the same room for months, and the thought of catching up sounded far better than collapsing on the couch at home.
As they reached his sleek black sedan, Mark unlocked the car and slid into the driver's seat. Emily buckled in beside him, her brow raised as she noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor.
"You're thinking about something," she said, her voice curious. "What is it?"
Mark started the car, the engine purring to life. "The guys are in town," he said, pulling out of the parking space. "They want to meet up at Johnny's Diner."
Emily's eyes lit up. "Johnny's? That place is still around? Thought it would've crumbled under its grease by now."
Mark laughed, maneuvering onto the main road. The city's skyline was bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. "Yeah, still standing. Guess I'll head over there before going home. You good with that?"
Emily shrugged. "Fine by me. I'll figure out how to get home. Guess I should start riding my car more often."
Traffic was light for once, and they reached Johnny's Diner within fifteen minutes. The retro-style restaurant stood like a beacon of nostalgia, its neon sign flickering slightly. The smell of sizzling burgers and fries wafted through the air as Mark pulled into a parking spot.
"Enjoy catching up with the boys," Emily said, stepping out of the car. "I'll see you at home later."
Mark nodded and watched her flag down a taxi before heading inside. The familiar red vinyl booths and checkered floors greeted him, along with the sound of laughter and clinking cutlery. In the corner booth, his friends Amos and Patrick were already seated, waving him over.
"Marky Mark!" Amos called, grinning as he slid over to make room. "We thought you'd bail on us."
"Not a chance," Mark replied, shaking hands with them before sitting down. "It's been too long."
Patrick, nursing a milkshake, leaned back with a smirk. "Busy with work, huh? Must be nice."
Mark rolled his eyes. "It's work. Same as always, just with bigger headaches."
"Anyway, I'm really sorry about your mom," Patrick said, his tone softer.
"Yeah," Amos seconded, his voice quieter than usual.
"It's fine, guys," Mark said, offering a tight smile. "Thanks for saying that, though."
They ordered their usuals—burgers, fries, and sodas—and the conversation flowed easily. They joked about old times, shared updates on their lives, and laughed until their sides hurt. But as usual, the topic inevitably shifted to Amos's favorite subject.
"So," Amos began, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin, "how's cute Monica?"
Mark's brow furrowed. "She's fine," he said cautiously. "Why?"
Amos shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Just curious. You know I've always had a thing for her."
Patrick burst out laughing. "Had a thing? You've been obsessed with her for years. She's way out of your league, man."
Amos ignored him, his eyes still on Mark. "I'm serious. She's amazing. Smart, gorgeous, classy. I'd do anything to win her over."
Mark's jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. "Amos, she's not interested. And even if she were, I wouldn't let you anywhere near her."
Amos raised his hands defensively. "Whoa, relax. What's with the hostility?"
"The hostility," Mark said sharply, "is because you're crossing a line. Stay away from my aunt. Show some respect."
Patrick stepped in, trying to defuse the tension. "Alright, alright, let's cool it. Amos, you've been warned. Let it go."
"Fine," Amos muttered, though his grin suggested he wasn't entirely serious.
Mark exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you and Jerry so obsessed with older women anyway?" he asked, his tone light but still tinged with annoyance.
Patrick grinned, shrugging. "I hear they've got experience, man. Confidence. It's attractive."
Amos nodded in agreement. "Exactly. They know what they want. None of that guesswork."
Mark shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "You two are unbelievable."
The tension dissolved as they returned to lighter topics, the warmth of their camaraderie filling the booth once more. Still, Mark made a mental note to keep an eye on Amos. Some lines weren't meant to be crossed. He couldn't let anyone manipulate his aunt.
As the three were still chatting, Mark pulled out his phone and typed down a message, a smirk spreading across his face.
Amos's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, look at him. Getting all serious. Who's the lucky girl, Mark?"
Patrick joined in, grinning. "Yeah, c'mon, don't leave us hanging. Who's got you blushing over there?"
Mark scoffed, pocketing his phone. "It's just a girl from work. Nothing to get excited about."
"'Just a girl from work'?" Amos mimicked, leaning closer. "Sounds like someone special to me."
Patrick laughed. "Yeah, spill it. What's her name? Or are you keeping her a secret?"
Mark shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "You two are ridiculous. It's really nothing."
But before they could press further, Mark's phone buzzed. This time, his face broke into a grin as he read the message.