Chapter 17
Danni
I walk out the front doors of Citizen’s Tower into the hot August, immediately regretting my choice. After sharing lunch in the breakroom with Morgan and Kayla, I decided to move my legs and enjoy the ocean view. Seemed like a good idea, idyllic even. The sun could smite an ant in a millisecond out here. Me, it might take a few minutes, but I’m not risking it. Looks like I’ll be moving my legs by walking up four flights of stairs back to the air-conditioned office.
As I reach for the door handle, my phone buzzes. Just once, which means it’s not the Social Security Administration calling to tell me there’s a law enforcement action against me. I duck through the door, find a cool corner in the lobby, and check my phone. It’s a text from Willa.
Just left the vet’s office.
Wednesday during our dinner Zoom call, Willa informed me that Molly has a lump on her left leg, probably a cyst but she wanted to have it checked out.
What did they say? I ask.
They biopsied it. Won’t know anything until the results come back.
How did Molly do?
She was a trouper as always. The nurses wanted to take her home.
Nope, I type, They need to find their own Molly.
There’s only one Molly.
Truth.
Anyway, I’ll let you know , she says, and then adds, Got a big date tonight?
Ha. I have to go to a work thing. We’re binge-watching Temporal Grifter.
That could count.
No, it absolutely could not , I counter. You haven’t met the people I work with.
Speaking of, Chance just strolled into the lobby with an ice cream cone. He bites into it, chews, swallows and takes another bite. Gum-chewer Chance is also an ice cream chewer. I don’t know how to process this.
He glances over and changes trajectory, walks toward me with his cone out-stretched. “Want some?”
“No thanks.”
He enters my personal space anyway, tosses the cone into the trashcan beside me, and then steps back. A little. Why is he grinning like that? And why is he standing so close, like he’s trying to smite me with his hotness?
“You wasted it,” I say.
“It was my second one. I’m full.” He pats his stomach.
I retreat until my back hits the wall. “You missed our meeting this morning.”
“I was at the dentist.”
Sympathy pains shoot through my teeth. “You eat ice cream after going to the dentist?”
“I eat ice cream after a lot of things.”
“You’re…weird.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“Well, I meant it.”
“So, what did I miss?” He’s still close, his body a raging ball of plasma, trapping me in its orbit. My eyes rest on the triangle of skin revealed by his V-neck. This must be what Jupiter feels like. Or thanksgiving turkeys. I look at his shoulder instead–his strong, broad, capped shoulder–and my hormones flare. Nowhere is safe.
What is up with him? Weirdo Chance acting all weird. And why don’t I mind it? My stomach doesn’t, anyway. It’s riding a roller coaster, the ups and downs making the slurry in my stomach lurch. It’s more fun than it sounds. Time to put on my professional face.
“You missed Heng’s update. He’s making good progress on his module. He’s completed five tasks, which he moved to the ‘Completed’ column like I asked.”
Chance crosses his arms. “That’s good.”
“It is. He’s good at following instructions.”
“I am too.”
“Really?”
“I just follow them my own way.” He drops his arms and turns up the dial with that grin.
“Which isn’t following them. Which is why I have no idea what your progress is because you haven’t been using my kanban board.”
“I’ve been working at my desk all day every day this week. What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Playing Wordle.”
“I’m not that talented.” He holds up both hands, palms facing me. “I only have two hands and they’ve both been working diligently on your benefits portal, Danni.” He steps closer.
“ Our benefits portal. And why are you saying my name like that?”
“Like what?”
My stomach is having the ride of its life. This is so unprofessional. But he started it. “Never mind,” I blurt.
His grin turns into a full smile. “Do you trust me, Danni?”
“I have no reason to trust you.”
“Then let me make it easy for you. I’ve never missed a deadline. I’ll have my module complete and ready to go to test on the drop-dead date.”
“You better. My promotion is riding on this.”
He places a hand on the wall beside me and leans closer, his scent making me sizzle. “Trust me.”
My insides turn to ash under his gaze. I’m officially cooked. “Prove it.”
He cocks his head and pushes off the wall. “I will.”
And he’s gone.
In his wake, I start floating. So high my head enters Cloud Cuckoo Land. My entire body enters Cloud Cuckoo Land. Princess Unikitty greets me with, “Any Idea is a Good Idea...” I have no idea what she’s talking about, because I have no ideas. Especially none about Chance. Gravity doesn’t exist up here. It’s a burden for those land dwellers, not me. I could do flips and endless somersaults.
Instead, I drift up four flights of stairs, barely noticing where I’m going, my heart pounding but not from strain. At the top of the stairs, I find the door to our office and glide in. My eyes immediately latch on to Chance. He’s working diligently on the benefits portal app like he promised, which tugs on my heart and makes me feel even more lightheaded.
Water. I need water.
I circle Chance. He doesn’t budge, his eyes fixed on his monitor. A touch of sadness lowers my altitude. Why is he looking at that instead of me ?
No, I’m not sad. I’m happy. I’m floating. But I need to come down. Fast. A little ice-cold water will surely do the trick.
Morgan and Kayla are still in the breakroom. Morgan lays eyes on me, and her expression goes from casual to concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Her face is fuzzy. “Nothing,” I hear someone say. I can’t feel my mouth.
“You look flushed. Did you just see a centipede?”
“No.”
I bypass them both, grab a plastic cup, hold it under the water dispenser, and press the blue button. Blue for cold. Like my nails. I am cold. Calm. Professional.
The water goes down like it should, freezing my insides, adding weight to my body, allowing it to slowly descend. I go for another cup, pour it down my throat.
As soon as I turn around, they bombard me with questions.
“Are you sick?”
“Did you throw up?”
“Do you need me to drive you home?”
“Did Chance delete your code?”
He deleted my reason and common sense. And that’s a problem.
“My stomach hurt for a bit,” I lie, “but I’m fine now.”
“You still look a little weird,” Kayla says.
Great. Chance’s weirdness rubbed off on me.
“Sit,” Morgan says, patting the table.
“I can’t. I have a lot of work to do.”
“Bruce is in charge,” Morgan says. “It’s a free day. Don’t make the rest of us feel bad by being responsible.”
On cue, Bruce walks into the breakroom juggling a ping pong ball. “Skittle Pong in the main conference room in five,” he says without looking away from the ball.
“What’s Skittle Pong?” Kayla asks.
Bruce catches the ball and peers at Kayla through his glasses. “It’s Beer Pong, but with Skittles.”
“Why not beer?” Morgan asks jokingly.
“Because no one drives drunk on my watch. And no one works either. So if you don’t play Skittle Pong I expect you to waste your time doing something equally unimportant. That’s an order,” he finishes in a booming military voice.
Morgan and Kayla look at me. “Are you going to play?” Morgan asks.
“We don’t have to act like hooligans every time Christopher goes on a management retreat,” I say.
“But we can, so we do,” Kayla says. She hops up from her seat. “Skittles are gross. I’m going to go play Animal Crossing.”
“You brought your Switch to work?” I ask.
She looks over her shoulder. “Yes, it’s play day. So go play. I think I saw Chance in the conference room.” She flashes me a mischievous smile.
“I don’t care where he went,” I say to the empty void where Kayla once stood.
Morgan scrutinizes my face.
I shrink back. “What?”
“You have that weird look again.”
“I just–” The mention of his name caused my stomach to lurch. “I need to get back to work.”
“I’m going to suggest you play Skittle Pong, because it’s team building and Christopher loves team building. He knows we horse around when he’s gone. He doesn’t care.”
“But I have a deadline.” I stand and head to the door. Morgan runs up behind me and gently places her fingers on my shoulders like I’m a steering wheel and she’s the driver.
“You’ve been working all morning. Just one game.” She turns me left, away from my desk toward the conference room where I see Chance through the glass.
I shimmy out of Morgan’s grip. “Fine. I’ll have your mandated fun.”
“That’s my girl.”
She follows me into the conference room. I round the table and lean against the back wall, careful to keep my eyes away from Chance’s eyes. I can’t afford another trip to Cloud Cuckoo Land, especially not in front of my coworkers.
Bruce is at one end of the table. Chance is at the other. Triangular arrangements of cups are at both ends.
I dare a peek at Chance as he aims. He tosses the ping pong ball. It bounces once and arches neatly into a cup.
“More for me,” Bruce says as he grabs the cup. He pours out a handful of Skittles and tosses them into his mouth.
A rogue Skittle pelts Chance in the face and then clatters to the table. He rubs his cheek and grimaces at it. “What was that for?”
“That was for your stinky fish,” Juanita says from the corner.
“That’s it,” Chance announces. “It’s on. Me and Juanita.”
“Let’s play teams,” Bruce says. “Pick a partner.”
“Danni,” he says too quickly, without looking at me.
“I don’t know how to play.”
Drew, who is holding up the wall next to me, obliges. “Beer Pong, also known as Beirut,” he says in his curt, choppy style, “requires exacting aim and precision throwing of one ping pong ball across a long table, preferably eight feet, by two feet, on which two arrays of cups are positioned at both ends. The cups are filled with an alcoholic beverage, such as–”
“Shut it,” Bruce says, holding up a hand. He looks at me. “You toss the ping pong ball across a table. If it lands in your opponent’s cup, they eat the Skittles. Got it?”
“Uh, sure.” I sidle over to Chance, Morgan watching my every move, her expression saying she knows more than I know, which makes her very satisfied. Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. Standing next to Chance has me soaring like I have little helicopters on my feet. I stomp twice to disengage them.
“Is that your pre-Skittle Pong ritual?” Chance says, glancing down at me.
“What? Stamping my feet? No, that’s just because I’m cranky.”
Chance smiles. We share a moment, a memory that suddenly feels fond. I am in so much trouble. Morgan looks pleased. I scowl at her.
“Prepare to taste the rainbow, crybabies,” Juanita announces before tossing the first ball. It bounces off the table and hops across the floor.
“Sweet move,” Chance says. He retrieves the ball and offers it to me. “You want to go first?”
“My hand-eye coordination is bad,” I say. “Really bad.”
“Just go,” Bruce says. “I’m hungry.”
Chance ignores him and hands me the ball. I pretend to aim and then toss, falling well short of the cups. Physics does me no favors, sending my ball right into Bruce’s solid grip. “Next time try aiming,” he says.
“I did. I aimed for your hand.”
Bruce smirks at me and then tosses effortlessly into one of our cups. “Boom!” he says, with his hand still poised in the air like he just swooshed a winning free throw shot.
I grab the cup and fish out the ping pong ball before pouring out the Skittles. “Where has this ping pong ball been?”
“You don’t want to know,” Bruce says.
“Great.”
I look at the four pieces of candy in my hand, two reds and two purples. “Wanna share?” I look up at Chance.
“Sure.”
“Open your mouth.”
“Why?”
“Target practice.”
He drops his jaw and I toss a purple Skittle at his face…at his mouth actually, but it hits his nose and drops to the table.
“Why is everyone pelting me with candy today?”
“I’m not done.” I toss the next piece. It lands directly in his mouth. “Do we get bonus points for that?”
Chance chews and swallows. “I don’t think so.” He directs my hand, palm side up, toward my face, and I drop the candy into my mouth.
“Stop flirting and take your turn,” Juanita calls.
My face goes warm, and those little helicopters on my feet start whirring. I tamp them down and focus on the game.
We go several more rounds, me missing the cups, Chance landing most of them, until each team is down to one cup. And it’s my turn.
Chance pulls me to the side and leans in close. “You got this, Danni,” he says softly.
I look into his eyes, feeling incompetent in so many ways. “I don’t got this.”
Let’s list the things I don’t got: my wits, my professionalism, my rational mind, any ability whatsoever to throw a ball in the general vicinity of a Dixie cup. I got nothin’. Just Chance staring down at me, daring me to look away. Which I do, but not without experiencing a full-body wave of silliness. That’s what I’m calling it. Not passion. Not desire. Not longing even. Just silliness.
“Do you want me to help you?” he says in the same husky voice he’s been using on me all afternoon.
“No, I got this.”
“You just said you don’t got this.”
“We’re waiting,” Juanita says.
“Okay.”
I walk back to the table and take aim. Before I can throw, Chance comes up behind me, really close. Like, no space between our bodies close. He wraps a hand around mine, levels his head with mine and guides my hand through the throw. The ball soars across the table along with my…silliness. (Yes, that’s what we’re calling it.) It lands smoothly in a cup and cheers erupt all around the table.
Chance is still holding my hand. Mine feels like a firecracker about to go off. He steps away and I turn. We smile at each other.
“Way to go, Scrum master,” he says.
“I’m not a Scrum master. I’m just a team lead.”
“Either way, we won.”
“Guess so.”
A Skittle pelts my cheek. As it tumbles to the floor, someone yells, “Ten-second rule!”
Drew yells, “Mine!”
And I dart out of the room.