Slowly, like a Polaroid being developed, it came to him. Andhe could have smacked himself on the forehead at how dense he’d been. Mackenzie stepped in when she felt like someone needed her assistance. She wouldn’t leave a person stranded if she thought she could help them.
He looked back at his computer screen. He wouldn’t even have to fake his distress, as he really could use her insight.
Standing, he walked over to her workspace. With the noise-canceling headphones on, she hadn’t heard him approach. He put his hand on her shoulder.
She gasped, whirled around, and clutched the area over her heart. He held his hands up, palms out, an apology on his lips as soon as she removed the headphones to hear it. She did so slowly. Warily.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay.”
Like it had the past few times she’d talked to him, her voice made him feel like he’d won a race he hadn’t even known he’d been running. The gentle cadence of her soft tones, a trophy.
He slid his fingers into his pants pockets. “I was wondering if you’d look at my current project. Maybe give me some feedback and tips for improvement.”
“Me?” She pointed to herself.
“Yeah, you.” He kept his smile small. “Everyone knows you’ve got the best eye for design here. Just look at the tree.”
She did, even though his statement was more of a rhetorical device than an actual command. Her expression lost some of its rigidness. She looked like an artist pleased with her work. “It does look nice despite some hiccups.”
His hand rose to run through his hair, but he managed to change course at the last second, rubbing the back of his neck instead. He supposed he should apologize again, but what could he say?I wanted you to talk to me, so I resorted tothe grown-up version of pigtail-pulling?
“So,” he said instead, “will you help me?”
She chewed on her bottom lip, enticing his attention. She had nice lips, full and soft. The top dipped in the middle, then curved. He could agree with the design concept of well-formed and flowing lines drawing one’s eye. He had a hard time looking away.
Seeming to come to a decision, she released her bottom lip and stood. “Show me what you’ve got.”
He dragged her chair over to his work area, and she leaned forward and studied the design.
“Have you always known you wanted to be a graphic designer?” he asked.
She spared him a glance out of the corner of her eye. She pointed to the keyboard. “May I?”
He rolled his chair over to give her more room to work. She tapped on the keyboard.
So that was it. She would help him with work but ignore his attempts at a conversation. Why was his disappointment so disproportionate? Nothing had really changed, so why did he feel as if he were losing something precious?
“I’ve always liked art.” Her voice filled the space between them.
His middle jolted, and he cleared his throat. “Any specific medium?”
A few clicks of the mouse. “Drawing, mostly. I spent a lot of time with a pencil in my hand, scratching out pictures on blank computer paper.” She spoke to him but kept her eyes glued to the screen.
“I’m actually really bad at drawing.”
Another quick glance. “How’d you get into graphic design?”
That decision felt like a lifetime ago. “I minored in photography and have always had a penchant for technology. The two sort of merge cohesively as a stable career choice in graphic design.”
He watched her work. She hadn’t changed any of his elements, but with every click and keystroke, she brought more life to the image, more finesse.
“Is there anything about the job you don’t like?” he asked.
When she looked at him next, she searched his face. “Are you trying to find my weakness so you can exploit it and win the promotion?” She sounded serious, but the slight twinkle in her eye gave her away.
He made a show of being hurt and a little offended. “I would never do such a thing.”
