5
Nathaniel
“Well, that went swimmingly,” I say to the empty room as my head thumps to my desk.
The door to my office is closed as a sign to the team that I’m working and need to focus. Really I just need a few minutes alone to process the past hour with Julia.
I wince at the image of her pale and shaking. I had one job: convince her to join the team. Yet I managed to completely mess even that up. “So much for a great first impression.”
Out team needed help. We could not afford to lose another DM this late in the contract. Learning about Julia’s last-minute availability felt like a gift before I went and scared the shit out of her.
I scrub my hands through my hair. Things had been going so well before that too.
The chair squeaks as I lean all the way back to stare at the ceiling. I can’t help the smile that tugs up the corners of my mouth as I think about her. She’s a little weird and dorky. Like me. Like us. She’s perfect for the team. I could tell with each interaction—from the small smiles they gave me when she played with the toys lining their desks—that they felt the same. She teased easily, matching each personality seemingly effortlessly.
I don’t let myself think about her mysterious brown eyes as they blinked up at me. At the long dark curls that carried the scent of sweet flowers I can’t name. I won’t think about the current of tension that seemed to run between us the entire meeting. Surely, I made that up.
“No, no.” I chastise myself.
It’s bad news to think that way. Plus, if I did feel any sort of attraction to her, it may be a moot point anyway. After leaving the lab, she said she’d take the night to think about it, but we needed her yesterday. I’m asking for a few weeks, and even that is a big ask.
Maybe I had pushed too hard? My size can be intimidating. I think again of how Julia pulled back when I reached for her. Did I scare her or was it just her disorder? The idea that she might think I could hurt her, or anybody, makes me sick. If she only knew how wrong she was.
I grab the stress ball and squeeze it, unable to sit still any longer. There is too much to do to sit here dwelling. We’d figure it out. My team always does.
There’s a knock at my door and I let out a long breath. I relax my shoulders from my ears and call, “Come in.”
I sit up straighter when Ken, the liaison for the labs, strolls in. He shuts the door behind him. He’s impeccably dressed in a tailored suit and his black and silver hair is neatly trimmed, like always. Once again, I’m thankful I decided to make an effort today. As the liaison for the labs, Ken has to meet with customers weekly and maintain an air of importance.
His mouth is set in a flat line and the clear tension in his crossed arms ratchets my shoulders back up to my ears.
“Ken, how’s it going?” I ask, gesturing to one of my office chairs.
He shakes his head once. “I can’t stay.” He glances at his very expensive watch. “I’ve got another meeting in five.”
“What can I do for you?” I keep my tone light, like I don’t know that I’m about to get another talking to.
“I just got off the phone with General Smith. He’s been looking over last month’s financial reports on Lite-Brite. To say he’s displeased is an understatement.”
I nod and keep my jaw clenched tight. General Smith should be discussing the financials with me and not the lab liaison. This is my job. I get that he wants the labs to look good but because the two men are friends, I often feel like I’m being pushed to the side. I tread lightly however, because it was Ken that ultimately took a chance on Shemesh-Tek and I need him in my corner.
“You’re behind schedule. You are over budget. Your documents are weeks late,” he continues.
I appreciate Ken. Mostly. He exudes that cold, old-guy confidence that people still seem to rely on so much. He keeps the military happy because of his years served in the Air Force. He thinks old school and doesn’t like or understand that the world is changing. He and my father would get along swimmingly. But my work is about the future. Before I can get there, I have to play the game a little longer.
Ken doesn’t understand this project. He’s the smooth, silver-haired figure that schmoozes the customer; I’m the gremlin in the basement building the tech. He has no idea how hard this team works, how their home lives suffer. I know we are struggling with some of the paperwork, but all that stuff … it’s just procedure and bureaucratic necessity. The technology the team and I are developing can change the world.
“The team is all pulling overtime for a few weeks to help fix the gap in our schedule. I will make the deadline,” I assure.Even if I have to live at the office, I finish to myself.
Ken uncrosses his arms. “You can’t afford to lose this contract. I took a chance hiring you.”
“I understand,” I say, knowing that’s what he needs to hear.
“What about that new girl for DM?” he asks.
I cringe at his use of “girl.”
“Julia. She’s extremely smart. Highly recommended. She’s going to be a great fit for the team.” I don’t explain that she technically hasn’t accepted the position yet. Thinking of her again compounds the growing anxiety in my chest.
