Give Me a Chance (BYC #2)

9. Natalie

9

NATALIE

“ H appy two-month-aversery!” I say cheerfully, approaching Rina’s desk.

She laughs, finding it silly I’m keeping track, but she’s my best friend, and she’s sickeningly happy in her marriage, so I’m going to celebrate it.

After the hectic weekend I had, the quiet of the office is a blessing. My nonna, Antonia, celebrated her eightieth birthday, so a flock of cousins, aunts, and uncles flooded the house. At one point, Tony, my brother, Jeremy, his husband, and I locked ourselves in my childhood bedroom for a few minutes of precious silence.

If you see me with my family, you’d think I was a quiet, withdrawn person, but that’s only because I know better than to try to be heard among the rowdy Italians. All in all, the soft chatter of the office is a nice reprieve. Being able to speak without waiting for my turn is another.

The school year just started, meaning the grunt of our work at the BYC is done. Most of the kids in our care come from immigrant families who have trouble making ends meet. We offer them a variety of free after school programs, including sports activities, arts, and study help and they are starting this week.

Pretty soon, organizing the yearly donor’s gala will have us swamped, but for a week or two, we have the luxury of a stressless workplace.

Kiara, our boss, calls in an early meeting, typical for a Monday morning, so we all gather in the conference room. The BYC employs thirteen people in total, including Kiara, and we’re currently looking for a new addition to our team.

Our office spaces aren’t big, but the conference room is bright and airy, with a large light-wood table in the middle. I sit between Anne and Rina, my usual spot, and Kiara starts the meeting.

“Good morning, everyone! First, let’s do a round of applause for all our hard work the past few months!” We cheer. “Because of you, 115 of our kids are able to have better education, more opportunities, and more parents can breathe easier.”

A big smile stretches across my face. I wouldn’t change this job for the world. My smile is short-lived, interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Sorry I’m late.” I recognize the face. I recognize the voice. But my brain refuses to acknowledge who entered my sanctuary.

“You’re just in time for me to introduce you.” Kiara’s kind, brown eyes look content. I can’t relate to that.

“As you all know,” she continues, “the BYC has been expanding our services, and we were searching for a person able to help our clients with the law side of things, be it immigration papers or making the most of whatever help the state can offer them. I’m thrilled to introduce you to our newest employee, Matt Anderson.”

Others clap, and it takes me a few seconds to catch on. The bastard is smiling widely, though his expression is slightly uncomfortable. He probably noticed he’s way overdressed in his dark grey suit and a black tie.

The BYC is a chill place, we dress business casual mostly, emphasis on the casual, so he sticks out like a sore thumb. Good.

Still, I think the predominantly female employees are too busy ogling him to notice his missed dress code, or his discomfort. He sits down on the empty seat closest to Kiara, which is directly across from me.

“Matt’s also our fourteenth employee, so I guess we’re breaking the curse of the thirteen,” Kiara jokes, but I couldn’t disagree more. If anything, having him here is a curse in itself.

I glare at him until he notices, while Kiara continues the meeting, delegating our weekly tasks. After two months of successfully avoiding him, he’ll now be a daily disturbance. Which means this truce is over, and the war is back on.

I’m out through the conference room door as soon as Kiara tells us to get back to work. Matt will get a piece of my mind, but before I can say my piece to him, there’s another person deserving of my rage.

Anne approaches her desk approximately two minutes after the meeting ends. She sighs, noticing my foot tapping.

“Really, Anne? You didn’t think it was important to tell me you hired him?” Anne works in HR, and though Kiara is the boss, she trusts Anne implicitly with all the hires.

“Kiara wanted to keep it a surprise.” She shrugs, as if it’s nothing. “Regardless, what do you care?”

“What do I care? He’s my nemesis. You know that!”

“No, I don’t know that. I just know you both act like mean middle schoolers around each other, and neither one of you shared the reason for it. I asked him if he can keep it professional, and he said it will be fine.”

“Urgh.” I’m aware my behavior is childish, but I’m too annoyed to care. Still, I leave her desk, deciding she doesn’t deserve the blunt of it.

Each BYC employee has a desk with a couple of chairs in front of it in an open office space. Kiara’s the only one with her own office. Though, there is one more separate office we all use when necessary. Matt’s desk is four desks to the right of mine, but I don’t want to make a scene in front of everyone, so I decide to wait until he leaves the room.

At eleven sharp, he gets up and heads to our small break room. Almost immediately, I follow him there.

He’s drinking a healthy concoction of sorts and doesn’t look surprised when he notices me.

“Took you long enough.” He has the nerve to provoke.

“You didn’t think to tell me you were going to work here?”

“When would I tell you? It’s not like we talk to each other.” I know he hadn’t known in Croatia; the job didn’t exist back then. But still...

“Maybe that was something you should have disclosed to me?” I’m trying to keep my voice low, but it gets higher by the word.

“Why?” He gets up from the chair, towering over me. “You made it clear we’re not friends, and we certainly aren’t more than that.” His tone slices through me, and by the time I’m able to answer, he already left the room.

“URGH.” Fuck, why do I have the communication skills of a toddler today?

The workday couldn’t finish fast enough, and I rush directly to my favorite yoga studio, in desperate need of some Zen. I’ve been doing yoga for a few years now, sometimes at home, but mostly here, at a studio named Blissful Balance. Ironically, I’m neither blissful nor balanced walking into it today.

Currently, there’s a beginner’s level yoga class going on, so I join in. My yoga level is more intermediate, but I’ll take what I can get. The practice comes easy, the poses natural to my body. The breathing helps me calm down, but the intensity level is too light for my brain to fully concentrate on the movements alone.

Why did I get so mad?

A therapist I had after college used to tell me our triggers are usually our own. They stem from our past, rather than the event in the present which triggered us.

Matt’s right, we’re not friends, but he still should’ve told me. It would be the nice thing to do. And he likes to play the nice guy. I guess it’s just the persona he plays. Typical.

He hid it on purpose. He was mad I bounced after our night in Croatia, but I was nothing but honest with him. I don’t owe him a date—or a friendship. I don’t owe him anything. But if he wants war, he’s going to get it.