She wasn't at the stage where she could listen to instructions yet. “Did you just put your number in my phone?” she asked me again, and then came to dance around me, shrieking. “Oh my god!” I couldn't not laugh as she literally bounced around my chair. She stopped as suddenly as she started, though, and then looked extremely serious. “I have to hug you now,” she told me gravely.
“You hugged me before,” I pointed out. “That's your quota for today.”
She swatted my face with an empty sleeve. “I can't tell whether you're joking!” she accused me. “It's stressing me out. Just stand up so I can hug you!”
I rolled my eyes and stood, exaggerating my reluctance. I actually didn't mind; she'd touched me so much already I think I'd begun to develop an immunity to it. As soon as I was up she flung her arms around my middle and squished the air out of me. I coughed. “You're really thin,” she said into my ribs, her voice muffled by my t-shirt. “Like, really.”
She couldn’t talk, she was so short I couldn't even hug her properly; my arms rested on her shoulders. “That's a pretty bold statement for someone who's not even a whole person to make.”
“Shut up,” she said into my ribs. “It’s not my fault. My mum is like four foot ten or something. Besides, I only seem ultra-short because you’re huge.” She looked up, panicking. “I didn’t mean it like that!”
I expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. I just pushed her head back into my stomach to shut her up, anyway. “If you’re not careful I will feed you to the evil flowers.”
As she giggled into my t-shirt, I was struck for a moment by how normal this all was. We were just joking around like we had been before, and the fact that I now looked like a guy and was wearing guy's clothes didn't matter. It didn’t even matter that I had no idea what I wanted to do with what was under my clothes, either. The sky hadn’t fallen in, the world hadn’t stopped turning. Though Bree was hardly Henry, or Mum, or anyone at work, it was still reassuring. I was suddenly really glad she’d lied to me.
“You’re breathing funny,” Bree told me, and I looked down at her.
Probably, I thought, I'm high on pizza and garlic bread. I didn't joke this time, though, I just tried to decide if I really wanted to explain to her why I was feeling so good. I might as well. I’d come this far, right?
“You’re the first person I've told about me. And instead of being fucking horrified, you’re hugging me.”
She hadn't been expecting me to be serious, and the look she gave me... Wow. “Can today be my birthday instead?” she asked in this tiny little voice. “There's no way tomorrow can beat this.”
I ruffled her curls and peeled her off me. “Come on, let's eat ourselves into a stupor and watch bad TV,” I suggested. “If you're really nice to me I might draw you an actual birthday present.”
“Oh my god, are you serious?” she asked, galloping after me as I took the rest of our pizza inside so I could set up my laptop. “Are you fucking serious? Just tell me what I need to do!”
I set myself up on the floor with the laptop and tablet and while I was scribbling away on it, Bree leant over the edge of the couch and dropped crumbs all over me and into my hair. I’d drawn a rectangular shape and was choosing colours and levels when she realised what I was painting.
“You’re going to draw an actual present?” she said, giggling. “Like a wrapped present?”
I picked a few colours for the ribbon. “Yup,” I said. “What colour would you like for the wrapping paper?”
She brushed some of the crumbs off the top of my head. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly, and then answered my question. “I don’t care about the wrapping paper, I want to know what’s inside it!”
I held up the tablet so she could see it better. “What do you think’s inside it?”
She gave me a look. “You’re the artist, you tell me!”
I shook my head. “Don't you know anything about art? It’s all about the viewer’s interpretation,” I joked, and then chuckled as she flopped me with a sleeve again.
“Fine,” she said, rolling onto her back on the couch so her head hung upside-down next to mine. She watched me down over her forehead. “I think you bought me some new clothes.”
I laughed at her, and we went backwards and forwards guessing what might be inside until I’d finished the painting. The suggestions got slowly more and more absurd until Bree was insisting that I was buying her a carpet python. “That’ll go with the evil flowers,” I told her. “All I need now is a hairless cat and my collection of evil familiars is complete.”
I pulled the laptop onto my actual lap to upload the painting to Deviant Art, when I noticed an unread email icon down the bottom of my screen. It was from one of my team members, and it had an attachment.
My heart sank. I had work to do.
For about ten seconds, I considered not mentioning it and not doing anything about it. I was enjoying myself and didn’t actually want to start working again just yet… but then I remembered yesterday. Yesterday I’d been practically having a breakdown about my workload and how behind we’d been, I didn’t have the luxury of leaving the docs an hour or two so I could be silly with Bree.
“I thought you were uploading the painting?” Bree asked me, sitting up.
I took a deep breath and then released it. “I just got an email from someone at the office,” I told her, feeling myself deflate. “I’m going to need to do some work now.”
“Oh…” That girl could put so much emotion in a single syllable. She sounded so disappointed. “I’m going to have to go, aren’t I?”
I nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Bree. Work is insane at the moment.” I pushed myself up off the ground and put my laptop on the table. “Thanks for coming, though.”
“Thanks for having me,” she said automatically. “And thanks for the pizza and the carpet python in a box.”
I grinned, ducking into the bathroom to see if her t-shirt was doing okay. “If you’d given me more warning I could have bought you a real present,” I called back to her. The talcum powder hadn’t soaked up all the oil yet, and her top probably should be washed properly. I could get room service to do that.
That made her perk up. “Really? You’d buy me something?” she asked me as I went back into the living room.
“Sure,” I said, looking out towards the balcony. “I’ll give your t-shirt back to you next time I see you, it’s not done yet. It’s still light, are you okay to catch the train home? I can always drive you if you’re not.”
She stood up, still in my hoodie. “Yeah, I probably won’t go home straight away,” she said, and then pulled the hoodie off to give it back to me. She wasn’t wearing anything except the bra underneath, and it was still a shock seeing that much of her. I didn’t say anything about it this time, though, I just went and grabbed her the first cotton top I found in my drawer. I handed it to her and she pulled it on, being uncharacteristically quiet. It was so big on her it covered more of her thighs than her ‘shorts’ did.
“Happy Birthday for tomorrow,” I said to her at the door as she put her thongs on. “We can have a drink next time I see you, right?”
“Hah,” she said flatly, and the stood in front of me. “At least you have to see me again. You promised to buy me a present and you have my t-shirt. You have to give it back.”
I shot her a half-grin. “Yes, that’s definitely the only reason I’d want to see you again, Bree.”
She actually blushed. “Okay,” she said, giving me a quick hug. “Don't actually buy me a carpet python, though.”
I laughed. “Got it. It would probably just eat you anyway,” I said as I showed her out and we said our goodbyes.
Once she was gone, I sat down in front of my laptop and just stared at the email. I really didn’t feel like working, but I also didn’t feel like having any more meltdowns over being behind in the project, either. Not with everything else I had going on with me.
I downloaded the component and read it through. It was from that young guy
in the team, and the quality of it was terrible. I put my head in my hands for a moment. It was going to be a long night.
TEN
After a full weekend of dressing exactly how I felt comfortable, I wasn't prepared for how difficult it was to face my work clothes on Monday morning. I hadn't even thought about it because I'd been putting them on for five years, but now here I was, standing with my wardrobe open, taking ten minutes to talk myself into putting on a proper bra. I'd never liked bras, but I guess I'd always just figured they were an unavoidable part of being female. Now, it was like a switch had been flipped. I was looking at this lacy black bra in my hands asking myself, 'why the hell would I wear this?'
When I'd finally managed to get it on and put a blouse over it, looking at the shape of my breasts in the mirror felt really strange and uncomfortable. I felt exposed. I felt like people could see something I didn't want them to and I had to spend a good minute or two convincing myself not to take everything off so I could just put the crop-top on underneath. All my summer work blouses were floaty and thin anyway so even with the tight crop-top you'd be able to see I had breasts.
The skirts were a different matter. I did actually own a pair of work pants, but they were tailored to give me the illusion of curvy hips. Mum had had them made for me and I'd only kept them because I was terrified one day she'd demand to see me in them. I'd never liked them, but I put them on anyway and then inspected myself. Not surprisingly, they gave me curvy hips. I made a face at my reflection; I preferred the way my hoodie narrowed me out. Still, I couldn't manage stockings today, so pants it was.
Then I did my makeup, slipped on a pair of heels and rushed out the door.
I made slower progress than usual to work because I'd run out of bandaids and without stockings I kept reopening my blisters. Furthermore, all the reflective surfaces I normally needed to brave on the way to work seemed to have multiplied over the weekend. Looking at myself from every angle like this was depressing, I hated it. Whatever I ended up privately deciding I was, it definitely wouldn't be this.
It was early when I got to the office and none of my team were in yet. I could see the light on in Jason's office so I thought I'd stick my head in there.
“Sorry to bother you,” I said, knocking on his open door as I entered. “Did you get a chance to have a look at the Pink docs?”
Jason turned his attention from the screen to me, and gave me a very obvious once-over. If I thought I was going to be able to forget about my body today, boy, was I wrong.
“Mini in pants,” he said, ignoring my question. “I didn't even know you owned pants, I don't think I've seen you in anything except a skirt in five years. Must be hard to find pants long enough with those legs, hey?” He laughed at himself.
There probably wasn't anything else this man could possibly do that could make me dislike him more than I already did. “I felt like a change,” I said pleasantly, instead of telling him he was a fucking prick and suggesting alternate places he could shove his observations. “So, did you get a chance to read the framework and what we've done with the requirements so far?”
His laugh tapered off and he nodded. “I did, it's not too bad,” he leant back in his chair, considering me. “I like your reasoning, Russia looks like a good direction and there's definitely a market for ridiculously expensive jewellery over there. The upper class is just drenched in oil and mineral money. Did you know the minerals department have trade partners in Vladivostok and Moscow?” I shook my head. “Speak to Frost Energy about getting some leads for buy-ins there. I'll forward you an email from the guy you need to meet with. He'll probably know people who know people. Be discreet when you set up meetings, though; don't put any details in writing.” At my nod, he remembered something and added, “And for fuck's sake do something about that kid in your team.” He sounded annoyed. “What’s his name? Ali? Mohammad?”
He had to be fucking kidding me. “It’s ‘John’,” I said, discovering there were actually things Jason could do to make me dislike him more.
“Yeah, whatever,” he said dismissively. “Anyway, he sent that last component unencrypted and that’s just not good enough.”
I winced. I hadn't noticed, but it didn't surprise me. It was frustrating that Jason had been the one to pick up on that, though, because I’d rather have been on top of that issue myself. “Will do.”
As I was leaving, he stopped me. “Oh, and Mini?” I turned back toward him. I couldn't tell if he was going to say something serious or not. “You did a great job of turning the project around on the weekend. But let's make sure we stay on track, yeah?”
I kept expecting him to finish off with a snide jab at me, but he didn't. He just went back to whatever he'd been doing before I'd called in on him. That actually just made me angrier, because the fact that he'd complimented me made me felt really proud. I shouldn't enjoy getting the approval of pricks like Jason, but apparently I did. Bastard.
I'd gone back into Oslo and sat at my desk, conflicted as to whether I wanted to be angry at Jason or relieved that the project was on track again. In the end, my relief won out.
My meltdown last week apparently hadn’t ruined everything for us after all. We were making good time if Jason thought we were up to the point of scoping contacts; contacts were just one step away from setting up pitches, and that meant we might actually have signatures right after Easter. There was a good chance I could avoid fucking this up if I could just keep my head together and make good use of my time.
There were no clocks in Oslo—on purpose, I think, so we couldn't gaze at them and lament all the hours of our lives we were losing—so I took my phone out of my handbag to check what time it was. If it was before 8:30 I could probably go downstairs and buy Henry some sort of pastry to thank him for being wonderful. As I glanced at the time I noticed I'd gotten a text message.
Bree, I thought, feeling even better. I opened it. “so ive picked like the top 3 places id go if i had to run away....have u been to new zealand canada or sweden???”
I grinned. I had actually been to Canada a number of times on business, but I'd never been able to see any of it because I'd spent the whole time working. I didn't think that was her point, though. “I take it your birthday went well, then?”
“i saved u some cake. can i bring it over before it goes gross??? :) :) :)”
I sat back in my chair. I really needed to focus on my work, but since it had been her 18th and she was hinting at it not having been so great... well, I supposed I could make an exception, maybe just an hour or so. She'd been over on the weekend and I'd still managed to get everything done, after all. “Okay, but I won't be home until after six, and an hour at the max because I'll still have a lot of work.”
“did u buy me that present yet??? :) :) :)”
I groaned. Did she think I just sat around looking for stuff to do? “I haven't had time to, and if you want to come over tonight I won't have had time to, either.”
“Must be a pretty interesting conversation,” a woman's voice said from behind me. She sounded like she was smiling. “'Morning, Min.”
The suddenness of it got my adrenaline pumping; I hadn't noticed anyone come in. It was just Sarah. “Jesus, you scared the hell out of me!” For a moment I was relieved, and then I remembered I'd run out on her and Rob on Friday.
She slung her handbag off her shoulder into her drawer, looking kind of smug. “Why, what were you afraid I'd see you doing?” she said, grinning at me. “Something naughty? You look guilty enough.”
I blushed, which was stupid, because I wasn't doing anything naughty. “Yeah, nothing naughtier than making birthday plans with friends,” I said. “God, and you interrupted us just as she was about to describe her cake to me!”
Sarah had a big smile on her face as she rummaged around in her bag for her purse. “Hah! I'm guessing you're feeling better, then? You didn't look great when you got up from the table on Friday.”
That. The memory of it didn’t make me feel that
great, either. I hoped I looked as apologetic as I felt. “Yeah, I'm sorry I disappeared on everyone like that,” I said. “I was feeling pretty crap.”
She shrugged. “Rob wasn't great either, actually. If anyone's sorry it should be me for choosing a place that made everyone sick!” I felt bad about letting her believe that, but there weren't many other options. “You can choose somewhere next time,” she said, finding her purse and then standing up. “And by the way, Rob loves you. He was bothering me all weekend before he flew out to invite you over for games and I had to explain to him that some of us have work to do.”
I laughed at that. “We can do that next time he's in town, I guess. He's great.”
She immediately dissolved into a mushy smile. “Isn't he just? I don't think I've ever met a nicer man. I get that he's not Einstein, but it doesn't matter. He's everything else.” She remembered something and cringed. “Also, by the way, sorry for basically making out in front of you. I keep forgetting how bad I am on alcohol.”
I was still snickering at the Einstein comment. “It's okay. I can't be certain, but I'm pretty sure it was just the food that made me sick.”
“I did wonder,” she said, grinning again. “But I didn't think we were that disgusting! He wasn't groping me or anything.”
At the mention of groping my eyes darted downward on her. I wished they hadn't, because her curves were all deliberately on display and looking at them made me self-conscious. She was clearly so comfortable with who she was and that was in stark fucking contrast to how I felt. Fuck, she was so lucky. She probably didn't even know how lucky she was. I liked her, though, so I couldn't really resent her for it.
Unfortunately, she caught me looking and craned her neck downward. “Don't tell me I've put this top on inside out again.”
I think I might have gone a bit red. “No, I was just looking at what you're wearing.”
Her eyes went straight to my body, and she seemed to think she understood. “Oh, because you're wearing pants for once? Yeah,” she looked down at her own pants. “I can't be bothered with stockings most of the time. I like how sexy they make me feel but I always seem to catch them on stuff and rip them.”
Under My Skin Page 19
