Even though it’s dark, her outside lights illuminate her garden and I catch sight of her shimmying by the patch of vegetables next to the sunflowers. She spins to look at me, thick twists of hair highlighting a face shiny with exertion. Mrs. Davies works at the national labs as an electrical engineer. I’ve never met anybody smarter; if she says singing to the plants works, I’m inclined to believe her. “You know how the cucumbers get jealous.”
“You’re saying they’re green with envy?” I snort a little laugh at my own bad joke.
She blinks blankly at me.
“Good one, Julia,” Mr. Davies yells to me as he brings a tray of mojitos out. He bends to kiss his wife’s forehead. He’s wearing his usual jaunty hat over his bald head. His trimmed white beard is shaved with sharp edges against his dark brown skin. Mrs. Davies is still processing my attempt at humor as she reaches for her drink.
“You guys are up late tonight,” I say.
“Friday night happy hour had to wait,” he explains. “Mrs. D said the plants were feeling neglected.” He shrugged and looked at his wife with that glow that only comes with knowing somebody better than yourself. It’s the same look Grandpa would give Grandma Sue whenever she broke out in dance in the middle of a grocery store.
“Off on another adventure tonight?” Mr. Davies asks me.
“Something like that,” I say, trying and failing to hide the dead plant in my arms from Mrs. D. She shoots me a quick frown.
I stare enviously at the massive patch of life in their front yard. I watch how Mr. Davies hugs his wife close so their hips move in tandem before Mrs. Davies twirls back out, crooning to her carrots. One day I will have a garden. I’m not naive enough to hope for the rest: the loving husband, the secure home in the same place for thirty-plus years. But a garden would be nice. I can hope for that much at least. And yet, despite my brain’s warnings, my heart still yearns for that closeness. I want someone to hold me at night and make my coffee in the morning. I want someone to share everything with.
And then I’m right back at the beginning. Getting close to people means touching them, a luxury I can’t afford.
“Your lease is just about up, right?” Mr. D asks me, shaking me from my thoughts. “Have you decided if El Lugar is the place for you?”
I smile at the old familiar joke. El Lugar is Spanish for “the place,” a pun that has been made at least twenty times a day by its residents.
I actually have six weeks before my next contract starts and have tentative plans to travel the country, maybe even see my best friend Angel (though I haven’t breeched the topic with her yet, and it would be a big step in our online friendship considering we haven’t even done a video call). I keep all this to myself. As I’ve always kept to myself.
“My contract ends this week, I’m afraid,” I say.
“We’ll miss you. You’re the best kind of neighbor,” he says and settles onto the porch swing.
Having absolutely no social life makes for a quiet neighbor. “I’ll miss the singing,” I say as I nod toward to Mrs. Davies belting it out. “You guys enjoy your date night.”
I wave goodbye to the Davies as I unlock the door and step into my house. I assure Ginger, my fish, that I’ll be feeding her soon before placing Ferngully on the shelf next to her sisters. The sight of pot after pot of lifeless plants grips me with guilt. If I can’t keep a plant alive, what hope do I have for a relationship?
A sharp pain lances my side. It’s not the physical ache caused by my illness but the emotional reminder that I’m destined to be alone.
Time to pack, little jewel.
3
Nathaniel
Who would have thought one simple email would be enough to transform this Monday from crappy to amazing in just a second? This is it. This is the chance my team needs. Hours of working overtime, missing Lincoln’s tournaments, missing life—it won’t all be for nothing. Or at least it will give my ragtag company, Shemesh-Tek, a fighting chance.
I mumble out loud as I reread the email sent from the contractor coordinator associated with the El Lugar labs. “Leaving this week … timing might work … catch her in Building 45 before end-of-day paperwork.”
This email got buried in the hundreds that I get every day. Thankfully, I just happened to catch it. I glance at my watch—
“Crap!” I yell as I shoot up from my desk. I lock my computer, grab my badge, and sprint out of the office, the door slamming behind me. I only have a few minutes to make it across the campus. El Lugar National Laboratory isn’t huge compared to some of the national labs across the country, but it is still a good half mile to the building containing my last hope.
I stop abruptly before crashing into a rolling trash can.
“Sorry, Jake!” I yell to the janitor as I spin around him and the obstacle.
“Watch out, Nathaniel, or you might lose a toe,” he teases.
I throw up my arms in apology but keep half-jogging in the direction I’m going. “We need to chat about that Dodgers game. We were robbed.”
He waves away my comment. “You’re lying to yourself, man. Slow down!”
“Robbed, I say!” I call over my shoulder as I keep jogging.
My long legs eat up ground as I try not to look too goofy sprinting down the narrow streets. The midday sun bakes the pavement and I force myself to a walk so I don’t arrive drenched in sweat. Also, this area of campus has a lot of bigwigs wandering from meeting to meeting in expensive suits. I can barely muster dress pants and a button-up shirt. I’m much more at home in jeans and a Millennium Falcon T-shirt but someone on the team needs to look professional. Last thing I need is to run into the lab liaison, Ken, when Shemesh-Tek is already on thin ice for being behind on the contract.
My team is gonna be fine. We’ve been given another chance. I haven’t met the document manager in person, but rumor is she could help any contract get back on track.
Julia Russo, my saving grace.
Now I just need to let her know.
When I get to her building, I attempt to smooth down my hair but feel the brown curls bounce back up, adding to my absentminded professor look. Jared once described me as a starting player for a basketball team crossed with a mad scientist. An oddly specific and apropos observation from my closest friend.
I’m still a little sweaty when I reach the front desk. An older woman is glaring at her screen; an Excel spreadsheet is reflected in her purple bejeweled glasses.
“Hello, can you tell me where I can find Julia Russo?” I lean against the high desk and tap the top with my knuckles.
She startles, eyebrows raising behind her glasses. Sometimes I’m a little intense. My brain moves fast and I forget my manners. Combined with my height, people don’t know how to take me. The men in my family can be intimidating with or without meaning to. I back up and give her some space.
“Hi. I’m sorry. That was rude. Let me start over.” I glance at the admin’s badge. “Susan. How are you?”
“I’m well, Mr. Aarons.” She blinks rapidly before shaking off her frown with a quick headshake. “You weren’t rude, it’s this spreadsheet. How are you?” I’m surprised that she knows my name, but then again, that’s why we have the badges. That, and for security clearances. I have the highest level. This, too, can sometimes intimidate people. They assume I’m one of the bigwigs and not just a dork with an ever-buzzing brain.
“I’m fantastic. Better now.” I give a large smile and she softens more. “Can I help?” I nudge my chin in the direction of the screen.
“No. No, I’ve got it. I just have to wrangle it into submission.”
“Okay good, because it was an empty offer. Excel scares me.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Julia is right down that hall.” She points to her left. “But she’s packing up her desk now.”
“I better zip right down there. You’re a life saver. Thank you again, Susan.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Aarons.”
“Call me Nathani
al. You show that file who’s boss,” I call over my shoulder as I make my way down the hall, leaving a smiling Susan.
I find Julia easily enough. She’s the only person with a paper name sign pinned outside her cubicle. I’m about to knock on the short wall that goes only a little higher than my shoulder when her voice reaches me.
“Don’t worry, Ferngully. You’ll be right as rain in no time.”
I frown and peek over the wall and find who I assume to be Julia bent over, hands on her knees, talking to a very dead plant. A dried-up leaf falls off and she sweeps it away with a short, sad moan. Something about the sweet and gentle gesture softens my nervous energy. Then I realize it looks like I’m staring over her cubicle wall to look at her ass.
“Your friend isn’t looking so hot,” I announce my presence from the doorway.
She snaps up and turns to me. We lock eyes. I know you. The thought comes so fast and true it doesn’t even feel like mine. It’s like a voice in a dream that tells you that you can fly. Warmth spreads over me like I’ve just stepped into the sun from the shade. I don’t know Julia. Not really. But I have seen her around. I didn’t know her name or who she was, but I couldn’t forget the soft brown curls that frame her heart shaped face. Or those wide lips and breathtaking caramel eyes that hold the mystery of a sphinx. She’s beautiful.
A memory bubbles to the forefront of my brain. A few months ago at Free Energy coffee, I found myself in line behind her. I had seen her several times and had just worked up the courage to ask her name when she turned around and saw me. Flustered, she mumbled her way past, very careful to give me a wide berth, and left without her coffee or another look back.
Like I said, I come off as intimidating to strangers. I hate it about me. It ties me to the man I cannot stand. I try to make up for it by living my life the exact opposite way my father lives his, but in the end there is only so much I can do. I give people space and smile easily. I remember names and details to get to know them better.
I want to know her better.
I push the thoughts away. Hopefully she doesn’t remember and more importantly, I hope it doesn’t influence her answer.
She’s my Obi-Wan Kenobi—my only hope. I realize I have been staring at her for way longer than is socially acceptable. But God, there’s something about her that makes looking at her just so easy to do.
“Hi.” I straighten and try to look relaxed. Her gaze flicks to me and then around her cubicle to where her few belongings sit in cardboard boxes. “I’m Nathaniel Aarons.”
“I know.” Her softly freckled cheeks flush and she sucks in her lips. “I mean, hi. I’m Julia. Uh, Russo.”
I reach out my hand to shake hers. Her surprise at the sudden action causes her to back into her desk, jostling a stack of vanilla folders. We both reach for the tumbling stack at the same time. Our hands collide and an electric shock zaps me.
“Ouch, that was a big one,” I say. At the same time, she starts to profusely apologize, “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault static electricity exists.” I straighten the precarious stack and she steps back, tucking her hands into a long-sleeved shirt. Her arms wrap tightly around her middle.
Already off to a great start. I’ve freaked her out. I am such a dork.
Okay. Act normal.
I step back to the opening of her cubicle. Is it possible that she knows that I have crushed on her a little bit? I have to forget about all that now. I need her help.
“You’re shocking,” I tease trying to move the conversation to a lighter tone.
“That’s what they tell me.” She relaxes her shoulders with a shrug. But still she steps back behind the desk to put more space between us.
“Julia,” I say her name again and then realize I don’t have a plan. I always have a plan. Well, okay, that’s not true, but I’m really good at winging it. I’m not easily put off by a tough situation and usually the words flow easily. But now I’m having a hard time finding the right words.
Or any words.
And every second that ticks by I realize I have just said her name and nothing else.
Words, Nathaniel. Why are you here? Speak.
But my most base brain just keeps thinking about how lovely her curls are and how it might be nice to tug on one just to see it bounce back into place.
She clears her throat.
I blink back to life. “Julia,” I repeat and cringe.
Yes, we have established that is her name. Say what you need. Why did you just run across campus? Words, man. Words! What do you need?
“I need you,” I say.
Ohh, not those words.
* * *
Julia
Doth my ears deceive me? Did Nathaniel Aarons just say what I think he did? Because there is no way …
“You—” I start.
“Your help,” he finishes quickly and then clears his throat before adding, “I need your help with the Lite-Brite project.”
“Oh.” Well, that makes more sense.
When he first appeared at my cube I had to blink to make sure I hadn’t imagined him. He introduced himself as though I don’t know who he is. As though the whole of the laboratory doesn’t know the whiz kid engineer who is taking the energetics world by storm. A legend just a year or two older than me, everyone at the lab was quick to share how he had filed five patents all while earning his double masters at UC Berkeley in mechanical and electrical engineering.
A hum of energy shoots through me as I take in the man watching me with an amused smile on his face. Nathaniel Aarons. My heart starts a tippy-tap tempo my feet would struggle to keep up with. He’s even more handsome up close. His smile accents the deep dimple in his cheek and his brown curls are perfectly tousled, but there’s no way the style is intentional. The man has a high-processing computer for a brain; he doesn’t spend time in the morning fixing his Superman curl just so. He probably forgot to brush it completely and that little cowlick on the side of his head formed courtesy of his pillow.
Why was that so damn adorable?
He’s tall and athletic-looking even in charcoal gray dress pants and a white dress shirt. The fabric pulls tight around strong shoulders and biceps. It’s not enough that he’s a super-nerd; he’s also ridiculously good looking. Don’t even get me started on his piercing hazel eyes that suck the air out of the room. I can’t say that I even notice most people’s eyes. At least not unless they are so striking I can’t seem to look anywhere else. Or blink. O-M-G, look away and don’t be weird. How long have I been staring at him?
“How can I help?” Be normal.
I can practically hear Grandma Sue say something along the lines of Now there is a man that could plow my fields.
“Do you have a minute to talk? I know you’re packing up to leave, but that’s actually why I’m here.”
Despite my racing heart, I gesture to the chair that isn’t stacked with boxes. “Sure.”
I don’t have a lot of personal effects but somehow I always manage to accumulate little knickknacks from each job that I never have the heart to let go of.
He steps into my office. Suddenly, the space that felt so big only a moment ago shrinks down to the size of a pin. His scent surrounds me and a sudden heat causes me to flush. I glance at my hands to make sure I’m not actually glowing. I swallow as he extends an arm past me to pet Ferngully.
“Hello, I’m Nathaniel,” he says to her as he gently taps her dried-out body. I swear she shudders in response to his affection. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she bloomed back to life thanks to his natural light.
I laugh nervously. “She’s a bit shy. Her name is Ferngully.”
He glances up from the plant to grin at me. “Fern.”
I clear my throat and step back to reduce the growing heat in the room. That shock a few minutes ago was exactly what I’m afraid of. Most people I can avoid touching easily enough. When I do have to touch someone, if I make it quick, I’m usually okay. But there�
�s something about Nathaniel. He pulls all my emotions close to the surface. Like I can feel his energy zinging around the room, amping me up. As he straightens back up, I press cool fingertips to my cheeks and take a deep breath in.
I’m wearing a high-collared blouse buttoned all the way up and long slacks with heels to give the impression of height. I’m covered up like usual and hope it’s enough to hide my blush. My first day on base, I noticed him. He was chatting with his team in the cafeteria. And every time after that my attention shot to him like he had one of those green diamonds above his head like a character from Sims.
The closest we had physically ever gotten before today was one time at a coffee shop when I swear my body noticed him long before my brain did. I’d been waiting in line when all the sudden every single one of my nerves sat up and took notice. Startled, I looked up to figure out what had set me off when I spotted his reflection in the mirrors behind the baristas. I was acutely aware of him the entire time the line crawled forward. I had no idea how to act. The simple nearness of him got me so wound up I was afraid I was going to shock him into the next building. Stammering out my order, I turned to wait for my drink only to find Nathaniel staring at me, like he was about to say something. I freaked out and left.
Not that I still think about that look.
Only all the time.
Here and now, Nathaniel taps his foot. I can feel it shaking the floor. It’s weirdly comforting. I may not be able to touch people but I still find certain people’s company reassuring. A reminder that I do exist.
“So Julia Russo, world’s best Document Manager. I have heard a lot about you.”
I make a sound that is somewhere between a “heh” and a snort. “I don’t know about all that.”
Every time my name leaves his mouth I feel it like a caress down my neck. Why does he have to have that deep, rumbly voice? Why do I want to hear him moan my name? And why am I only hearing him speak it now as I’m about to leave?
The Untouched: THE UNSEEN SERIES, #2 Page 2
