The Untouched: THE UNSEEN SERIES, #2

by Sheldon, Piper

  I grab my box and Ferngully from the passenger seat and stomp all the way through the corridors of the classified building Shemesh-Tek calls home. I stomp past the offices, aware of the ruckus I’m causing in the quiet building. I bang loudly on Nathaniel’s closed door.

  When I glance back down the hall, a few heads pop quickly back into their offices.

  Nathaniel opens the door, and I’m bombarded by his warm scent and sunny smile. A flash of my dream jumps into my brain and I shove it away. Not the time. I am here on a mission and seeing his handsome earnestness pushes my resolve.

  “Julia,” he says on a sigh. Then he takes in my frown. Which is probably more of a scowl. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ll do it. I’ll help out the Lite-Brite contract,” I spit the words out like an accusation.

  It takes him a moment to connect what I’ve agreed to with my hostile body language.

  “What? Okay, good.” He smiles.

  I frown. His smile falters and he flicks a look to the side. “Is it good?” he questions.

  “Yes.” I nod firmly, feeling my mouth still pursed. Better to keep it shut than spill what I just heard.

  “Excellent.” He blinks at me, his gaze moving from plant to box and back to my face. He has a half-confused smile that is disarmingly charming. “I think,” he mumbles.

  Dammit, he’s cute. “Where’s my office?” I ask, forcing myself back on track. I’m here to work and prove those two dingleberries wrong, not bask in the sunny personality of Nathaniel.

  “Yeah, okay. Starting like, right now? Okay.” He pats his body as though looking for something then shakes his head. He turns around to and grabs a key from his desk. “I can take you there right now.”

  “Fantastic,” I say.

  “Um … are you okay?”

  “I am happy to help the team,” I say, squeezing the box closer to my chest and picturing the smug faces of those two men. I’ll show them a lost cause. Shemesh-Tek is going to kick so much ass the whole town will talk about how awesome they are.

  Nathaniel gestures down the hall. “I didn’t mean to pressure you, if you aren’t sure.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sure,” I say it with a haughty laugh.

  He looks me up and down again before unlocking an office and pushing open the door. I thump my box down loudly on a desk.

  He seems skeptical. “Because you look like you want to punch something,” he says.

  I force myself to relax the tension in my forehead and slap on a smile. At least I hope my expression looks like a smile and not like a growling mini poodle. “Fine. I promise.”

  “Okay then. I’ll just let you get settled.” He stands just inside the office door, not moving.

  I hold myself still, waiting for him to leave. His gaze goes soft as he looks at me.

  “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.” I say softly.

  I swallow with effort as our gazes hold.

  “I’ll just let the team know the good news.” He taps my desk once before leaving the office. I close and lock the door after him. Once I’m alone, I let out a long breath and all the anger dissipates. Welp. That may have been an emotional decision.

  “Well, you’re sure in it now, aren’t you?”

  7

  Julia

  Two days in and my rash decision to stay with Shemesh-Tek may have been … well, rash.

  In Nathaniel’s defense, he had warned me. Their secret contract was infinitely more complicated than anything I had ever worked on and the days have been relentless. The team works an average of ten hours—on a good day. Trying to make heads or tails of the documents delivery schedule has been a disaster. The engineers have done their best, but they were too busy designing the actual product to care about things like deliverables—documents for the customer to track our progress. There is no unified folder structure. The contract calendar was completely out-of-date and off-track. I’m doing my best to fix the schedule, but everything will stay behind until progress with testing is made.

  With all the extra hours spent at work, I haven’t had time to go take care of myself since my last visit to the abandoned factory. I should have been okay for at least another few weeks, but instead I have the ill health and twitchiness as though it’s been a month or more instead of mid-cycle. I’m drained these days. The pain thrums through my body at work. The stress of this job and the developing crush on Nathaniel has meant I’m constantly battling my own body for control. By the end of every day, I’m exhausted, achy, and on the verge of a migraine.

  The only silver lining is that I’ve been so busy, I’ve not had time to dwell on my superfluous feelings for Nathaniel. If I pass him in the hall on our way to different meetings, we wave politely. In the meetings we do have together, I keep my focus completely clamped on whoever is speaking. Unless it is him, in which case I doodle dances to try out in my now very limited free time. I don’t pay attention to how he commands the room. I don’t make note of how he has the respect of every member on the team. I especially don’t bask in the sunshine of his eternal optimism.

  Nope. These feelings are totally under control.

  “Can you make the meeting this morning?” Nathaniel’s head pops into my office. It’s as though my dreamy thoughts conjured him. He’s half in, half out, his long legs already heading toward his next destination as he hugs the doorframe as though to keep his bottom half from leaving without him. He’s in dark jeans and a forest green henley for casual Friday that makes his eyes even more captivating.

  I sit up straighter and then force myself into a relaxed position. I ignore the instant pulse of excitement that just seeing him causes. I tuck my hands in my lap.

  “Hi. Good morning,” I say.

  His mouth cocks into a half-grin. “Good morning, Julia. Sorry.” He lowers his head for a moment to show his remorse at being so abrupt. I get it. This whole contract is just constant sprinting. When he looks back up at me through his dark lashes my heart stutters.

  “How are you?” he asks.

  Gah. I smile. “I’m fine,” I lie.

  I glance to my screen. I really have way too much work to do to make this meeting. I haven’t even had a chance to eat more than a few nuts and some coffee all day. But yet he waits, obviously eager for my answer.

  “And how are you?” I ask to purposely mess with him. He’s like a hummingbird flitting from office to office, all but hovering off the ground with restless energy.

  “Good. There will be doughnuts,” he adds. “At the meeting.”

  “Hmm. You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Blatant bribery. We all need a little break.”

  For a fraction of a second, the world spins as we share a smile. Our smiles don’t have to mean anything. I wish the tingles spreading down my neck would get the memo.

  “I’ll be there,” I tell him, finally releasing him from this shared moment to zip to the next destination.

  “Good.” He blinks and shakes his head with a goofy grin. “Okay. See ya.”

  He’s off again in a flash of movement. That’s the thing about Nathaniel—he never settles. Never sits still. Always shaking or jiggling a leg, tossing a stress ball, pacing the room, or bobbing his head to the techno music pumping from his headphones. He’s a perpetual motion machine.

  I finish and save my current task with a sigh, then lock my computer. The whole team is already gathered in the small meeting room except Nathaniel. Kate and Febin face the door. Dylan types on their laptop without looking up. Jared gives me a small wave as I make my way to the other side of the room. I smile back but I keep my head down as I settle into a chair against the wall. I’m not a key person and try to leave the chairs around the table for the core team.

  Most people take notes during meetings on their laptops but I find something simple and pleasing about writing my notes in an actual notebook. It’s also how I track my symptoms. I use a code nobody would understand, but it helps to visually see the impact of my illne
ss.

  I track the last few days of my symptoms now as the engineers use acronyms to discuss things I don’t understand.

  “Nathaniel can’t figure it out either,” Febin says to Kate.

  “We’ve factored in everything. There’s no explanation for why they’ve started failing,” says Kate. There’s an edge to her voice that has me glancing up.

  Before I can tease out a reason for her tone, Nathaniel walks in. No, that’s not right. Nathaniel doesn’t just walk into a room. He always seems to hop, skip, slide, or lope. There needs to be a word for the energy he brings with him everywhere he goes. Everybody sits up straighter with a smile. They lean in like sunflowers toward the sun. I get it.

  “Hey folks,” he says as he moves to the center chair, setting up his laptop to share his screen.

  They greet their hellos before falling into a discussion of the possibility about crossover between the different MCU characters. I’m tempted to share fake spoilers to mess with Dylan. I bite back a mischievous smile as I doodle in the margins of my notebook.

  “Julia?”

  I blink up at Nathaniel’s voice. As always, my heart skips when he says my name.

  “Hi. Yes. Here. Sorry,” I say in a rushed breath.

  Around the room, a few people chuckle. I glance at them, but they’re not laughing at me. Still, I have to fight the flush that’s tempted to creep up my covered neck.

  “I just said why don’t you come sit at the table. You don’t need to be on the sidelines.”

  My mouth opens to protest but I don’t actually have a good excuse. I’m just used to sitting on the sides. If you get too involved, if you make attachments, it only leads to trouble. Even though I’m staying and fighting, I can’t afford any more hurt. I’ve found it’s best to withhold from personal discussions because then people start to want to talk more … and then it’s second verse, same as the first.

  “Sure.” I move to the main table. The only chair left is the one right next to Nathaniel. I pull my notebook closer to avoid having my doodles in the margin spotted. He smiles at me.

  I swallow and pretend to take notes as he launches into the meeting updates. As he speaks, my gaze spills off my notebook to his arm controlling the mouse. Our limbs are so close that the masculine hairs on his arm are clearly visible. His soapy, clean smell fills my nose. The tendons and muscles of his forearms flex as he clicks through the presentation and it’s hypnotic and alluring. His hands are so large that the mouse looks like a child’s toy.

  When he talks about the technology they’re developing, he doesn’t dumb it down, but shares in a way that even I understand. Nobody else in the room needs this remedial version, so it’s clearly for me, but I never feel belittled or talked down to. Even the other engineers are excited to share the science behind their portion of the project. Their consideration makes me feel so warmly welcomed compared to other contracts I’ve worked on.

  Nathaniel’s passion for their project in particular is so evident, it’s infectious. He doesn’t talk over people. He encourages ideas and debates. He never steals ideas or mansplains. The more we work together, the more I’m in awe of him.

  Sigh.

  Nathaniel grows quiet as the meeting goes on. He tosses a small stress ball from hand to hand.

  “And now the tests are failing for no reason. This was our one chance to catch up on the delay in schedule,” says Febin.

  By the time it’s my turn to present the dread in the room is palpable. “Not to add to the list, but many of you are behind on the docs you need to deliver to me.”

  A few mumbled apologies float across the table.

  I decide to pull from myself an energy I don’t feel. The mood is depressing and my report is only adding to their overloaded plates. “The good news,” I say, “is that the schedule isn’t as far off as we think.”

  A few heads look up from their laptops with interest. Nathaniel’s gaze on me is almost tangible. He’s stilled himself, clearly too cautious to hope, so I go on. “Yeah. Looks like there are extra days in the schedule for delays in testing. So if you can just do your best to get me reports as you pull them, I can do my best to turn them around in a day and get them out to the customer. You just concentrate on the heavy lifting and get me those reports when you can, and I can take care of the details.”

  Around the room, shoulders sag in relief followed by thankful sighs. What I don’t say is that this will mean I have to start pulling even longer days to scan through their reports looking for errors and correct the complex classified markings. But I can do it. It’s what I can contribute as they do the real work. It’s my small part I can contribute.

  “That’s awesome. Thanks, Julia.”

  I turn to see Nathaniel smiling at me. That makes it worth it. A zing flashes through me and I slide my hands under the table just to be safe. This doesn’t make sense. I shouldn’t be this close to the surface, but I have been pulling long days. Everything sets me off lately. I must just be tired.

  “We’re going to get through this,” Nathaniel addresses the team. “One day we’ll all look back and realize the long hours and struggles were worth it. You’re all changing the world. You’re a piece of history.”

  The mood lifts and a few smiles spread on the faces of the engineers. They believe it too. Because Nathaniel states it as fact: their work will change the world. “You all have been spreading yourselves too thin. I appreciate you all so much, but you need some R&R.”

  “Hence the doughnuts,” Jared says as he takes a happy bite.

  “Yeah, but we need more than that,” Nathaniel continues. “I want you all to take the long weekend. No working Saturday through Monday. Spend time with your partners and families. Relax. You’ve earned it.” He looks around the room. “Seriously. I won’t approve anybody to work this weekend.”

  “Then you can’t either,” Kate says.

  He just smiles.

  “And we should go out for happy hour tonight to celebrate Julia’s birthday,” Nathaniel says.

  I was smiling down at my notebook when my head shoots up. The whole room grins at me. Someone’s snuck a candle in one of the doughnuts and slid it in front of me.

  My mouth falls open. “How did you know?”

  “We’re a small team,” Dylan says. “We like to celebrate where we can.”

  Inexplicably, emotions tighten my throat. No team has ever celebrated my birthday before. I blow out the candle to avoid having to speak.

  “I hope that’s okay.” Worry starts to cross their faces when I don’t say anything.

  “It’s great. Thank you.” Truth be told, except for a message from Angel, I wasn’t expecting this day to be any different than another. It’s a Friday before a three-day weekend and that’s really all I have going for me.

  “You really didn’t have to do this. It’s not a big deal,” I say, blushing.

  “How old are you?” Febin asks. Febin is naturally blunt and doesn’t mean it in an offensive way. His brain just works more efficiently than a neurotypical brain and I’ve grown used to it.

  “I’m twenty-nine,” I say.

  “You have to celebrate the last birthday of your twenties,” Kate says.

  “I’m basically an old woman,” I say. “I drink tea, go to bed by nine, and I get angry when youths are on my lawn.”

  Everyone laughs and any remaining tension melts away.

  I still feel Nathaniel watching my profile. “Are you doing anything tonight?” he asks.

  My heart trips and flails like the comedic relief on a sitcom.

  “I was just gonna have a low-key evening with my roommate,” I say. No one needs to know my roommate is a temperamental fish.

  “We should go out.” Nathaniel sits up straighter. “You can bring your roommate, but we should definitely hit Beaker Brewery.”

  At the mention of the local brewery, the others begin to talk excitedly, already texting their partners the plans for the evening.

  “Oh, I don’t really
drink very much,” I say. The last thing I need is even less control over myself.

  “Well then we’ll drink to celebrate your birthday and you can just hang out.”

  “They also have shuffleboard so you’ll be right at home, grandma,” Jared teases.

  I pretend to glare at him. “Okay. Just for a little bit.”

  I’m happy and smiling but I can’t help feeling like this is a very bad idea.

  But I have been working really hard. And it’s my birthday. One night out. Surely I can celebrate a little. Just because they’re all being nice for my birthday, doesn’t mean we’re actually friends. It doesn’t mean I’m forming connections.

  8

  Nathaniel

  Happy hour is upon me before I’m ready. Even though it was my idea, the hours just slip by and there’s still so much to do. The pile seems to grow without anything being checked off.

  “Ready, BC?” Jared pops his head in my office door.

  Big Cheese has really stuck with the team. It has experienced several iterations and interpretations including but not limited to: Queso Grande, The Cheesiest, Big Cheeser, and now even BC when in a hurry.

  “Yeah, just wrapping up. I’ll meet you guys in five.”

  He squints at me with skepticism.

  “I will. Look. Saving file,” I insist.

  “Want to ride together?” he asks. “I can bring you back here since you’re most definitely going to work more.”

  I give a sheepish shrug. “Nah, thanks though.”

  He nods and heads out. The truth is I will have to come back to catch-up after. I have more than enough work to keep me here all night but getting the team together and intentionally talking about anything other than Lite-Brite is crucial for morale.

  I also have to insist Julia joins. When she first started, she seemed so full of easy light and happiness, optimistic in a way that drew everyone in. And yet lately every time we pass, her shoulders are a little more hunched, her color more drawn. It’s like working on this contract is sucking the life right from her. I have to keep an eye on her.