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My heart beats a little faster, as if already knowing Oscar’s words are going to affect me hard.
“It was the first Christmas after the girls joined the team. The office was closed, and I’d just dropped by to pick up some papers. To my surprise, I found Rose working. That day, she told me about her family, or lack of it. She grew up in some sort of…home. I don’t think she knows who her parents are. I have no idea if she was abandoned at the time of her birth or later, but she didn’t speak till very late in her childhood. Kristy’s mother was her music therapist. That’s how the girls met.”
Bile rises in the back of my throat.
“You know the feeling of abandonment, Zander, but can you imagine picturing your parents and siblings every single day, knowing they’re out there living a life without you?”
My fists clench on the table. Heavy, nonsensical words like fucking coincidences and destiny run in my ears.
As if he hasn’t already said enough, stroking his chin, Oscar continues, “She suffers from social anxiety disorder—was diagnosed in her early teens. But with medication and support, she handles it well. She’s a fucking treasure for the company, Zander, but she’s nervous about new things and people.”
He raises an eyebrow at me, accusing me of being a nerve-racking stranger.“And that’s why I’m protective of her. I’m concerned about you bulldozing into her life—going on coffee dates when she doesn’t even like sitting in crowded places.” Oscar falls back in his chair, his mouth pressed into a hard line.
I hate his familiarity with Marr and the fact that he’s rubbing it in my face. “She’s not yours to protect, man.”
“But she’s yours, Mr. BFF?”
* * *
My hands tremble as I hold the cell phone, indecisive on whether or not to call her. I’m still trying to get my head around the information Oscar gave me this evening.
I was curious about Marr before, but now I feel something…stronger. Maybe it’s sympathy, or maybe understanding.
I always believed women take advantage of people, situations, and fucking everything. But there’s this one, breaking all my beliefs with her gullible eyes and feathery voice. And then there’s her name: Rose. The word I’ve dreaded and hated my whole life.
I decide to send her a text.
Me: Hello, couch girl.
Couch girl: Zander, you sent me a text.
My lips curl into a smile. Her immediate reply with my name does something funny to my heart. I rub my warm chest while reading her text again.
Me: Yeah :) What are you doing?
A few minutes later, my phone chimes, announcing a new text message. She sent me a photo!
The focal point of the picture is her computer, where some code is running on a black screen. But it’s the glimpse of her room that makes me do a double take.
Her computer table is facing a window, partly hidden with soft blue curtains. The wall is painted pastel pink. There’s a chaise, which looks super comfy with dozens of throw pillows. On one side of the window is a wall shelf with miniature decorative items. Moon-shaped string lights hang from the shelf.
Everything looks so homey, and so not Marr. I’ve been to her office. The only non-work-related item there is a plant. There are no photographs or postcards. Not even colorful post-its.
I look again at the picture and get a glimpse of a black-and-white poster.
What could it be?
My first instinct says Wolverine, but then maybe some actor or singer? I can’t fathom the idea of some half-naked actor’s or rock star’s poster hanging in her bedroom. This girl is driving me crazy. It appears she has so many layers. Every time I feel like I know her more, she reveals something new.
Me: Wow.
Couch girl: Yes, it’s amazing. Would you like to see it in person?
Holy shit. Is she inviting me to her place? Unfamiliar exhilaration fills my bones and muscles. Is she the same girl from this morning?
Me: Yeah. Sure.
Couch girl: Great, I can email you the details later tonight. In short, it’s an algorithm that uses AI for synthetic drug development and the prediction of effectiveness and side effects of the compounds developed.
