8. Zander
8
ZANDER
Fuck.
Looking at this beautiful girl sitting across from me, I reminisce on yesterday morning, something I’ve done quite a lot the past twenty-four hours.
While she was busy explaining her findings and analysis, I couldn’t help but notice the subtle things she did unknowingly. Like the way she brought the tip of her tongue between her lips to wet them. Damn. She looked so sexy. The way she tweaked her nose after adjusting her glasses—adorable.
My brain is soon going to exert itself, failing to connect the person I see to the name I know.
Her low coughing interrupts my trail of thoughts.
Shit. She asked me about her name. I’ve just offered her a friendship, and I can’t lie to her face. What a shitty friend would I be?
I run both my hands through my hair before meeting her expecting gaze.
“You mentioned you aren’t comfortable around people. Does it also extend to things?”
Her gaze drops from mine to the table between us. Her folded hands on the wooden surface lightly shake before her fingers start tugging on the cuffs of her shirt. Embarrassment evident on her red cheeks and I realize she’s taken my comment personally.
I try hard to keep some semblance of sanity in my next words.
“Small things, which many might not even notice, can sometimes be a trigger for some in ways we can’t imagine.” My words have trouble finding a voice. The top button of my collar feels like a vise around my neck.
But I have her complete attention, her entire body still. There’s a flicker of understanding in her wide eyes, which persuades me to whisper in a throaty voice, “I’m uncomfortable with your name. I…don’t think I’ll ever be able to say it out loud.”
I regret the words upon seeing her flinch and her body crumbling onto the chair. I watch as she swallows hard and closes her eyes.
“It’s okay.” Her dejected voice cuts me deep.
“It’s not okay. In no fucking way,” I say through gritted teeth.
This week. Her name. Her smile. The way my heart beats upon seeing her. It’s all a fucking disaster.
“The offer of friendship still stands, if you can live with…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
Minutes pass by, but she says nothing. I’m thankful for the sound in the café, as her silence is killing me.
“How will a friendship even work when my name brings out all the nightmares you are trying to forget?”
It’s the first time her voice hasn’t trembled while speaking to me. Like that’s the one thing she believes wholeheartedly.
Her words rattle my core. I just mentioned a trigger, but she couldn’t have explained my reaction to her name any better.
What are your nightmares, couch girl?
“Because I’m here, talking to you, hoping hard that you’re not completely weirded out by me and would still consider my friendship.”
“Oh.” She looks at me in surprise for a second before she’s flustered again, pulling on those flannel cuffs.
“I know we’ve only met yesterday, but trust me, couch girl—”
“Couch girl?” She does a double take. Some of the lost color returns to her face, telling me she isn’t offended by the nickname.
“Yes, the mysterious girl I found sleeping on the office couch.”
Her lips make an adorable O .
“That’s the name I’m using when I’m thinking about you,” I admit. “But of course, I have the copyright on that.”
When I give her a small smile, she blushes a beautiful shade of pink, and my heart soars in delight. I release a deep breath of relief, knowing that a major part of the crisis is averted.
“You can’t call me that…there.” She tilts her head toward the office building. “Everyone will think I’m some crazy couch lady.”
I bring my attention back to her face from her fingers, which are lightly tapping on the empty coffee cup.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone think of you as crazy, Ms. Marlin.” An inspiration hits me as I push my chair back. “Would you like to share a piece of pie with me to celebrate our new friendship, Marr ?”
Her eyes widen at my swift use of her new nickname. “S-s-sure. They make, um…very good custard pie here.”
“One custard pie coming right up.”
As I walk to the counter, my chest inflates. Given all the weirdness, I’m so damn happy with how this morning is turning out with my new friend.
Sweet and cute couch girl. Marr.
I return with a piece of pie and two forks. When I place the small plate between us, using her fork she divides it into two halves. She even pulls her piece a little more toward her, creating a small gap.
I cock an eyebrow at her, but she just ducks her head.
I let her actions slide. If she’s cool with my weirdness, I’m cool with hers.
As we enjoy the pie, I ask more about her.
She starts hesitantly, telling me about her recent projects, then swiftly moves to her colleagues until she’s raving about the town.
Finally, I have to interrupt her. “So Marr, in the past thirty minutes, I’ve learned about almost everything except you. I’m more interested in knowing you .” I point the tiny fork to her, but my simple words have an undesirable effect. Her blushing pink face pales, slowly turning white. “Hey, I’m only asking little details that friends know about each other. Like, maybe your age. Or your phone number.”
“Oh.” She slowly relaxes back in her chair and whispers, “I’m twenty-six.”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“I know.” Her eyes widen before she plays with her cuffs. “I mean…I didn’t know know, but I assumed . You are the CEO…you should be thirty-one…thirty-two.”
My lips curl into a smile as her face reddens and her hands move animatedly. I take pity on her before she faints.
“I understand what you mean.”
Did cute Ms. Marlin look me up?
“And what about that phone number?”
“I heard you postponed the conference call this morning,” Oscar states as the waiter picks up our empty dishes.
“And?” I wave for the young man to bring another round of drinks .
“I heard you were with Rose.”
“Don’t tell me you have your little birds spying on me.”
Why the hell am I at dinner with this killjoy?
“No spying, boss.” He smirks for a moment before his lips flatten and his eyes fix on me. “There are things you don’t know about her.”
“And you’re going to share those things with me? ” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Don’t you see what I’m trying to tell you?” He sits tall in the cushioned leather chair of the five-star restaurant.
“Not at all. I’ve no clue what you are trying to do.” I narrow my eyes on him in irritation.
“I’m trying to tell you to stay away from her. She’s not someone you play around with, Zander.” Oscar presses his lips together.
“And how many women have you seen me playing around with?”
The joke about me being gay didn’t start overnight. I’m no saint, but I’m also not a player. Relationships are something I never considered for myself. I have had some hookups here and there during college, and occasionally, someone would hit on me during a business meeting. But after a casual fuck, I would always go back to my room. I’ve never slept with a woman in the literal sense.
“That’s not what I mean. She isn’t your usual girl, Zander.” Oscar scrapes a hand through his hair as if nervous about something. “She has already seen too much pain for one life. You getting closer to her this week and then leaving to not return for another three years isn’t something she needs in her life right now.”
Our dear waiter chooses this moment to bring our drinks. When he retreats, Oscar sips his single malt Irish whiskey as if he didn’t just drop a bomb minutes ago.
“Are you really going to just sit there and not explain more?” I ask .
“It’s not my story to tell.”
“But you already started.” When he doesn’t budge, I lean back in my chair, trying to act nonchalant. “I’ve decided to prolong my stay in Cherrywood.”
That gets his attention. “What do you mean by prolong?”
“Exactly as it sounds. I want to put Marr’s plan of collaboration with the university into action.”
“Marr? Jesus. So now you’re her BFF?” His hands make the air quotes while saying that ridiculous word.
“That’s the hope.” I smirk, but he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he sits there like a fucking stone. I sigh. “Look, Oscar, I like her. She’s cute. Weird but funny. She agreed to be my friend today.”
“Are you in high school?” His grip on the glass tightens, and I realize I can’t force the words out of him.
“Tell me about her,” I plead instead of bossing him.
After staring at me for a few seconds, he shakes his head and releases a heavy breath.
“I don’t know the whole story. Rose is very tight-lipped when it comes to her personal life.” He pauses, obviously uncomfortable with the discussion. “I’m fucking betraying her trust, but you seem to be hell-bent on this friendship thing.” He grabs his drink from the table and gulps back the remaining liquid. “I just want to give you an idea of her.”
My heart beats a little faster, as if already knowing Oscar’s words are going to affect me hard.
“It was the first Christmas after the girls joined the team. The office was closed, and I’d just dropped by to pick up some papers. To my surprise, I found Rose working. That day, she told me about her family, or lack of it. She grew up in some sort of…home. I don’t think she knows who her parents are. I have no idea if she was abandoned at the time of her birth or later, but she didn’t speak till very late in her childhood. Kristy’s mother was her music therapist. That’s how the girls met. ”
Bile rises in the back of my throat.
“You know the feeling of abandonment, Zander, but can you imagine picturing your parents and siblings every single day, knowing they’re out there living a life without you?”
My fists clench on the table. Heavy, nonsensical words like fucking coincidences and destiny run in my ears.
As if he hasn’t already said enough, stroking his chin, Oscar continues, “She suffers from social anxiety disorder—was diagnosed in her early teens. But with medication and support, she handles it well. She’s a fucking treasure for the company, Zander, but she’s nervous about new things and people .”
He raises an eyebrow at me, accusing me of being a nerve-racking stranger.“And that’s why I’m protective of her. I’m concerned about you bulldozing into her life—going on coffee dates when she doesn’t even like sitting in crowded places.” Oscar falls back in his chair, his mouth pressed into a hard line.
I hate his familiarity with Marr and the fact that he’s rubbing it in my face. “She’s not yours to protect, man.”
“But she’s yours , Mr. BFF?”
My hands tremble as I hold the cell phone, indecisive on whether or not to call her. I’m still trying to get my head around the information Oscar gave me this evening.
I was curious about Marr before, but now I feel something…stronger. Maybe it’s sympathy, or maybe understanding.
I always believed women take advantage of people, situations, and fucking everything. But there’s this one, breaking all my beliefs with her gullible eyes and feathery voice. And then there’s her name: Rose . The word I’ve dreaded and hated my whole life.
I decide to send her a text.
Me: Hello, couch girl.
Couch girl: Zander , you sent me a text.
My lips curl into a smile. Her immediate reply with my name does something funny to my heart. I rub my warm chest while reading her text again.
Me: Yeah :) What are you doing?
A few minutes later, my phone chimes, announcing a new text message. She sent me a photo!
The focal point of the picture is her computer, where some code is running on a black screen. But it’s the glimpse of her room that makes me do a double take.
Her computer table is facing a window, partly hidden with soft blue curtains. The wall is painted pastel pink. There’s a chaise, which looks super comfy with dozens of throw pillows. On one side of the window is a wall shelf with miniature decorative items. Moon-shaped string lights hang from the shelf.
Everything looks so homey, and so not Marr. I’ve been to her office. The only non-work-related item there is a plant. There are no photographs or postcards. Not even colorful post-its.
I look again at the picture and get a glimpse of a black-and-white poster.
What could it be?
My first instinct says Wolverine, but then maybe some actor or singer? I can’t fathom the idea of some half-naked actor’s or rock star’s poster hanging in her bedroom. This girl is driving me crazy. It appears she has so many layers. Every time I feel like I know her more, she reveals something new.
Me: Wow.
Couch girl: Yes, it’s amazing. Would you like to see it in person?
Holy shit. Is she inviting me to her place? Unfamiliar exhilaration fills my bones and muscles. Is she the same girl from this morning?
Me: Yeah. Sure.
Couch girl: Great, I can email you the details later tonight. In short, it’s an algorithm that uses AI for synthetic drug development and the prediction of effectiveness and side effects of the compounds developed.
Ah, the code running on her PC. My excitement deflates, but the smile stays on my lips. That’s the Marr I know.
Me: That’s brilliant. But for a moment, I thought you were inviting me over.
I see the three dots appearing and disappearing on my screen as she types and deletes multiple times before finally sending me an emoji.
Couch girl: :\
I let her off the hook.
Me: Don’t forget to send me the details of the code.
Couch girl: I don’t forget anything. :)
Me: I’ll keep that in mind Ms. Marlin for the day I need your superpowers.
Couch girl: LOL You are funny.
Me: I’d really like you to tell that to my brothers. They think I’m too uptight.
Couch girl: Really? You don’t look uptight to me.
I lie on the bed, my stupid hands shaking as I type.
Me: Then how do I look to you?
Again, there’s a period of her typing and deleting. I’m almost tempted to change gears, but thankfully, her new message arrives.
Couch girl: You appear prudent. Judicious. Levelheaded.
Me: Your adjectives made my head hurt. Now I know you see me as an eighty-year-old businessman. :(
Couch girl: Crab! I didn’t mean it like that. :P
My lips curl up as I read her weird, one-of-a-kind cursing .
Later that night, before placing my phone on the nightstand, I open the messenger app and read her texts one more time. When I get into bed, there’s a smile on my face.
I close my eyes, waiting for the darkness to engulf me. For the pain of the rose thorns as they cut my skin. But something flashes in the middle of the red and black.Blue eyes, making me sit upright on my bed. For the first time in the past two decades, my haunted nights are invaded by something new, something not from my jaded past. My heart races and I’m drenched in sweat, but for the first time, I’m not scared to lie back again.
What are you doing to me, couch girl?