by Elena Armas
I knew exactly who. I just couldn’t believe she was even suggesting it.
She humored me by replying, “Aaron.”
“Oh, Lucifer’s favorite son? I don’t see how I should consider him for anything.”
Watching how Rosie clasped her hands together on the table, as if she were readying herself for a business negotiation, I narrowed my eyes at her.
“I don’t think Aaron is all that bad,” she had the nerve to say.
All I gave her was a very dramatic gasp.
My friend rolled her eyes, not buying my bullshit. “Okay, so he’s … a little dry, and he takes things a little too seriously,” she pointed out, as if using the word little would make him any better. “But he has his good traits.”
“Good traits?” I snorted. “Like what? His stainless steel interior?”
The joke bounced right off. Ugh, that meant serious business.
“Would it be that bad to actually talk to him about what he offered you? Because he was the one who offered himself, by the way.”
Yes, it would. Because I still hadn’t figured out why he had done that in the first place.
“You know what I think of him, Rosie,” I told her with a no-nonsense expression. “You know what happened. What he said.”
My friend sighed. “That was a long time ago, Lina.”
“It was,” I admitted, averting my gaze. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. It doesn’t mean that just because it happened a handful of months ago, it’s now somehow been written off.”
“It happened over a year ago.”
“Twenty months,” I corrected her far too quickly to hide that I had somehow kept count. “That’s closer to two years,” I muttered, looking down at the crumpled paper sheet that had wrapped my lunch.
“That’s my point, Lina,” Rosie remarked softly. “I have seen you give second, third, and fourth chances to people who have messed up far more. Some even repeatedly.”
She was right, but I was my mother’s daughter and therefore stubborn as a mule. “It’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
Her green eyes turned harder; she was not letting this go. So, she was going to make me say it. We were going to talk about it.
Fine.
“How about because he told our boss that he would rather work with anyone else in InTech? On his second day of work.” I felt my blood rushing to my face at the memory. “Key on anyone. Even Gerald for crying out loud.” I hadn’t overheard Aaron mention Gerald in particular, but I was sure I had heard everything else.
“Anyone but her, Jeff. Just not her. I don’t think I could take it. Is she even capable of taking on this project? She looks young and inexperienced.”
Aaron had told that to our boss on the phone. I had happened to walk past his office. I had accidentally overheard, and I hadn’t forgotten. It was all etched in my memory.
“He had known me for two days, Rosie. Two.” I gestured with my index and middle fingers. “And he was new. He came here and discredited me to our boss, indirectly kicked me out of a project, and put in question my professionalism, and for what? Because he didn’t like me after the two minutes we talked? Because I looked young? Because I smile and laugh and I’m not a cyborg? I’ve worked hard. I’ve worked my ass off, getting to where I am. You know what comments like that can do.” I felt my voice pitch high. Same went for the pressure of my blood now pumping into my temples.
Making an effort to calm myself, I released a shaky breath.
Rosie nodded, looking at me with the understanding only a good friend would. But there was something else there too. And I was under the impression I wouldn’t like whatever she had to say next.
“I get it. I do, I swear.” She smiled.
Okay, that was good. I needed her to be on my side. And I knew she was.
I watched her walk around the table and take a seat beside me. Then, she turned and faced me.
Uh-oh. This wasn’t all that good anymore.
Rosie placed a hand on my back and continued, “I hate to remind you of this, but you didn’t even want to be on the GreenSolar project. Remember how much you complained about that client?”
Of course I’d had to go and find a best friend who had a borderline photographic memory. Of course she remembered that I had been glad to be relocated to a different project.
“And,” she continued, “as you very well said, Aaron didn’t know you.”
Exactly. He hadn’t bothered to do that before he decided to label me as a hindrance and talk shit about me to our boss.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “What’s your point, Rosalyn?”
“My point is that, sure, he judged you based on only a couple of days,” she patted my back. “But you can come across a little … informal. Relaxed. Spontaneous. Sometimes loud.”
My scoff was heard all the way in Spain. “Excuse me?” I gasped loudly. Dammit.
“I love you, sweetie.” My friend smiled warmly. “But it’s true.” I opened my mouth, but she didn’t give me the chance to speak. “You are one of the hardest workers here, and you are amazing at your job while you manage to create a light and fun working atmosphere. That’s why you are a team leader.”
“Okay, I like this direction far better,” I muttered. “Keep going.”
“But Aaron didn’t have a way of knowing that.”
My eyes widened. “Are you defending him? Shall I remind you that we—as friends—should hate each other’s enemies and nemeses? Do you need me to print a copy of the best-friend code for you?”
“Lina”—her head swiveled, looking frustrated—“be serious for a minute.”
I sobered up immediately, deflating in my chair. “Okay, fine. Sorry. Go ahead.”
“I just think you were hurt—understandably so—and that bothered you enough to write him off this long.”
Yes, I had been outraged and hurt too. Something I despised was people making judgments based on shallow impressions. And that was exactly what Aaron had done. Especially after I had gone out of my way and tried to welcome him in the division with the best and warmest intention. I couldn’t believe I had shown up in his office with a stupid welcome gift—a mug with a funny quote about being an engineer. To this day, I didn’t know what had come over me. I hadn’t done that for anyone else. And what had Aaron done? He had just looked at it in horror and gaped at me like I had grown a second head as I cracked jokes like a total awkward dumbass.
So, to overhear him say that kind of stuff about me not more than two days after that … it had just made me feel small and all the more pathetic. Like I was being shoved aside after not measuring up to the real adults.
“I’m going to take your silence as confirmation of what I said,” Rosie told me, squeezing my shoulder. “You were hurt, and that’s okay, sweetie. But is it reason enough to hate him forever?”
I wanted to say yes, but at this point, I didn’t even know anymore. So, I resorted to something else. “It’s not like he has been trying to be my friend or anything. He has been a constant pain in my ass all this time.”
Except for that life-saving homemade granola bar, fine. And those papers he’d printed out for me when he didn’t have to, sure. And maybe for the fact that he’d stayed late, working with me on Open Day last Wednesday.
Fine, okay, except for those three occasions, he had been a constant pain in my ass.
“You have been too,” she countered. “You two are equally bad. Actually, it’s even cute how you two have been looking for excuses to trip each other and—”
“Oh, hell no,” I cut her off, turning in my seat to fully face her. “Let me stop you right there before you launch yourself into this weird shit about looks and whatnot.”
My friend had the nerve to cackle.
I gaped at her. “I don’t know you anymore.”
She recovered, pinning me with a look. “You are oblivious, sweetie.”
“Am not. And you seem
to need a reminder, so here’s how things are.” I pointed in the air with my index finger. “Since I overheard him saying those ugly and prejudiced things about me, to our boss no less, his name has been on my black list. And you know how seriously I take that. That shit is carved on stone.” I punched my palm with my other hand to be clear. “Have I forgiven Zayn Malik?”
Rosie shook her head, snickering. “Oh, Lord knows you haven’t.”
“Exactly. In the same way that I haven’t forgotten what David Benioff and D.B. Weiss did to us on May 19, 2019.” I waved my index finger between us. “Didn’t Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, First of Her Name deserve better than that?” I paused, just to let it seep in. “Didn’t we, Rosie?”
“Okay, I’m going to take your side on that one,” she admitted. “But—”
“No buts,” I stopped her, holding a hand in the air. “Aaron Blackford is on my black list, and he will stay there. Full stop.”
I watched my friend take in my words, mulling over what I had just said. Or more like passionately stated—whatever.
Rosie deflated with a sigh. “I just want what’s best for you.” She gave me one of those sad smiles that made me think she might be disappointed in me.
“I know.” Like the hugger I was, I launched myself at her, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a good squeeze. Frankly, it probably wasn’t her who needed it the most. This whole thing was draining the life out of me. “But that’s not Aaron Blackford.” Squeezing once more, I let myself enjoy the embrace, my eyelids falling shut for a second or two.
Much to my dismay, when my eyes opened back up, they tracked a large and towering figure that could only be one man.
“Dammit, Rosie,” I whispered with my arms still around her, making eye contact with the approaching man. “We have summoned him again.”
I watched Aaron Blackford close the distance with quick strides. His long legs stopped right in front of us. We were still hugging, so I peered at him over Rosie’s shoulder.
Aaron took our embrace in, looking somewhere between appalled and engrossed. I couldn’t be sure because he did a good job at hiding whatever he was thinking behind that infamous frown.
“What? Who have we summoned?” I heard Rosie say as we disentangled our arms from each other under Aaron’s attentive gaze. “Oh. Him,” my friend whispered back.
Aaron had definitely heard that, but he didn’t react. He limited himself to standing in front of us.
“Hello, Blackford.” I forced a tight-lipped smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Catalina,” he answered. “Rosie.” He looked at his watch and then back at us—or more, me—with one of his eyebrows up. “Still on lunch break, I see.”
“Break police have arrived,” I muttered under my breath. His other brow joined the one that was almost touching his hairline. “If you are here to impart any of your lessons on how to become a working robot, I don’t have the time.”
“Okay,” he replied simply. Then, he turned toward my friend. “But it’s Rosie who I have a message for.”
Oh.
I frowned, feeling something tug in my stomach.
“Oh?” my friend echoed.
“Héctor is looking for you, Rosie. Something about a project falling through because someone he called Hand-Breaker had a fit,” he explained. “I’ve never seen Héctor so worked up.”
My friend sprang up. “Oliver ‘Hand-Breaker’? It’s one of our clients. He … he shakes hands so hard, you can literally feel your bones grinding together.” She shook her head. “That’s not important now. Oh crap.” She picked up the few things she had—the corporate badge, office keys, and wallet. “Oh no, no, no.” A panicky look took over her face. “That means the conference call is over. I had meant to be downstairs by now, but with this whole mess with Lina and—”
I pinched her arm, stopping her before she said too much.
Aaron perked up—if his eyes narrowing slightly could count as perking up.
Rosie continued, “About Lina’s cat—”
Another pinch. I didn’t have a cat, and she knew this.
“Neighbor’s cat?” Rosie looked everywhere but at Aaron or me, her cheeks turning pink. “Her neighbor Bryan, yeah. Yes, that’s it. Bryan’s cat. Mr. … Cat.” She shook her head.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed further and then jumped to me. He searched my face as my friend stuttered through her obvious lie.
“Lina is taking care of Mr. Cat this week because Bryan’s grandma is sick and he’s out of town. You know how much Lina loves to help.”
I nodded my head slowly, as if Rosie’s gibberish had made any sense.
“Aren’t you allergic to cats?” Aaron asked, shocking the hell out of me.
“I am.” I blinked. “How do you …” I cleared my throat. I don’t care. I shook my head. “It’s a hairless cat.”
His hands slipped in his pants pockets, taking a moment to assess that. “A hairless cat.”
“Like in Friends,” I said, trying to sound as casual as I could. “Rachel’s cat. A Sphynx.” I watched Aaron’s face, not a sign showing that he knew what I was talking about. “You live in New York, and you are American, yet you haven’t watched Friends?” Nothing there. “Ever? Oh, never mind.”
Aaron stayed silent, and I pretended he hadn’t caught us in a blatant lie.
“Okay, phew,” my friend said, gifting us with a wide and toothy grin. The fake one. “I really need to go talk to Héctor.”
She looked at me apologetically. I stood up, too, scared of being left behind to explain more about Mr. Cat.
“Thank you, Aaron, for coming to get me. That was very”—she glanced at me quickly—“very kind of you.”
I rolled my eyes.
Rosie elbowed me softly. “Wasn’t it, Lina?”
She probably thought she was being clever. She wasn’t.
“The kindest,” I said with a clipped tone.
“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Rosie rushed toward the staircase, leaving us behind.
An awkward silence surrounded Aaron and me.
He cleared his throat. “Catalina—”
“What’s that, Rosie?” I cut him off, pretending my friend was calling for me. Coward, I thought. But after everything that had gone down today and having to relive our rocky start during my conversation with Rosie, the last thing I wanted to do was talk to Aaron. “Oh, you are holding the elevator door for me, you say?” I shot after my friend, not paying attention to how Aaron’s lips had pressed in a flat line as I left him behind. “I’ll be right there!” Then, I turned one last time, quickly glancing over my shoulder. “Sorry, Blackford, I gotta go. You can send me an email maybe? Yes? Okay, bye.”
When I turned my back to him, Rosie came into view. She was repeatedly pressing on the call button for the elevator.
“Rosalyn Graham!” I called after her, willing my head not to turn and check on the pair of blue eyes I was sure was drilling holes in my back.
Chapter Five
You knew the universe didn’t like you all that much when, after an exhausting week that had been crowned with a catastrophic Friday, it started pouring down the minute you stepped out of the office.
“Me cago en la leche,” I cursed under my breath, looking out through the glass of InTech’s massive entrance door and taking in the dark clouds crowding the sky, rain falling from it almost violently.
Pulling up my phone, I checked the Weather app and discovered that the summer storm would probably hover over Manhattan for a couple more hours.
Perfect, just perfect.
It was already past eight in the evening, so staying in the office to wait out the rain wasn’t an option. I needed my bed. No, what I really needed was a can of Pringles and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. But that wasn’t a rendezvous I would be having today. Instead, I’d probably trick my stomach with whatever leftover veggies I had in the fridge.
A thunder rumbled somewhere nearby, returning me to the ugly present.<
br />
The rainfall increased, now gusts of wind veering the falling water from one side to the other.
Still in the safety of InTech’s entrance hall, I extracted from my bag the light cardigan I wore in the chilly building and covered my head with it in hopes that it would somehow act as a barrier between the rain and me. Thankfully, the bag I had grabbed that morning, even if not the prettiest, was waterproof.
Looking down at my beautiful and brand-new suede loafers—which, contrary to my bag, were gorgeous and unfortunately not resistant to water—I took in their pristine state one last time. “Farewell three-hundred-dollar shoes,” I told them with a sigh.
And with that, I pushed the glass door and stepped out into the dark and wet evening as I held my cardigan over my head.
It took me about five seconds under the rain to know that by the time I got to the C Line, I’d be completely and absolutely drenched.
Fantastic, I thought as I speed-walked under the unforgiving downpour. I only have a forty-five-minute commute to the part of Brooklyn I live in anyway. Time I’d spend soaked to my bones.
As I turned the corner of the building, another thunder roared somewhere above me, the rainfall increasing and turning my pace slower and clumsier, while more water fell heavily on top of my useless cardigan umbrella.
A gust of wind stuck half my hair to my cheek with a wet smack.
Trying to get the wet locks out of my face with my elbow, I kept hopping around, realizing quickly how bad of an idea that was.
My right foot slipped on a puddle, sliding forward, as my other leg remained rooted to the sidewalk. My hands, still holding the cardigan, whirled in the air as I fought to keep my balance.
Please, please, please, please, universe. My eyes closed, not wanting to bear witness to my own fate. Please, universe, don’t let this horrible week end this way.
My foot drifted one more inch as I held my breath before coming to a miraculous stop.
I opened my eyes. My legs were close to doing a split, but I was still standing.
Before I could fully straighten and resume my way under the rain, I noticed a car pulling up a short distance in front of me.
