Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
JACQUELINE
“Again?” I asked him through a giggle. He mumbled something against my chest I couldn’t understand, so I tugged on his hair to make him come up for air.
His slow, mischievous grin greeted me right before he pulled out of my grip and licked a hot stripe between my breasts.
* * *
I was distracted, and I blamed my car not starting and having to get a ride to work on Leo’s stupid, dangerous—but confusingly sexy—motorcycle.
“So no holes in our jeans, obviously,” the new hire sitting in the chair across from my desk spoke. Her voice made me blink up at her to focus, “How does Sun Steer feel about tank tops?”
I tilted my head in thought, “Tank tops?”
“Like…” She pulled her cardigan to the side, revealing a thick strapped forest green tank.
“Oh, that’s fine.” I waved her away while I finished filling out the form on my iPad and filed it away under her name. A quick peek at the employment badge I had just given her reminded me that her name was Violet Thompson.
And yet, her hair was a bright electric blue.
It reminded me of Leo’s eyes.
Get a grip, Jacqueline .
“That’s a fun color.” I nodded towards her hair, tied up in a braid that hung over her shoulder. Similar to how I wore my hair today.
“Thanks,” Violet perked up at the compliment, “I’m glad it’s not an issue here.”
“Has it been an issue before?” I asked, puzzled. Most tech companies didn’t mind how their engineers looked on the job. As long as the products they developed worked, that’s all that mattered.
Except for my last job, where my boss asked me not to wear jeans to the office. Working at my old company Blix was the worst, for many reasons. I was still unlearning a lot from that organization.
“Well, I worked at another small startup in LA before this. It was cool, but the company ended up being bought out. And the people that took it over, um…” she trailed off as she gave me a once-over. I followed her gaze to wonder what she was seeing but couldn’t come up with anything before I met her eyes again, “They wanted their employees to present a certain way.”
“That’s stupid,” I shook my head, then I dropped my forehead in my hand, “I apologize. That wasn’t professional.”
Violet grinned at me, her smile glowing as she replied, “No problem. I’m glad you all seem more relaxed here.”
I smiled at her in return, “You’ve only spoken to me so far.”
“Yeah,” she lifted a shoulder at me, “But if Human Resources is this chill, that’s probably a good thing, right?”
I did my best not to gape at her.
No one, not since starting here, had ever referred to me as “chill.”
My brother Marco has told me to “chill out” numerous times. Chill was Signe. Chill was Mary. Chill was Leo.
I was not chill.
But Violet thought I was chill right now.
And I desperately wanted to cling to that image she had of me for as long as possible, before working with me inevitably dulled it.
“I’m going to introduce you to a few team members before we head over to the all-hands meeting in thirty minutes,” I opened my phone to check the time, trying not to smile too much at Violet’s compliment, “Feel free to ask me any questions that come up.”
“Sounds good.” Violet and I stood and made our way out of the office, and part of me wondered if I was capable of becoming someone chill. If working here over time would soften the prickly personality that I had.
I thought I was already smoothing out a bit. Mariam thought I was doing better, simply by going to brunch every other week or so with Signe and the other women in the office. I didn’t socialize much outside of work, preferring the silence and solitude of my apartment after a long day. However, according to Mariam, going to brunch in the middle of the workday still counted as a social engagement.
I thought perhaps I should push myself to be better friends with these women. It wouldn’t hurt to hang out with someone at my apartment maybe once every other week, too. If they were into being couch potatoes, that is.
But what if I became friends with Violet, only to discover that she’s one of those people who was into things like hiking?
“Is this her?” I heard Mary ask from down the hallway. I snapped my head up and threw on a smile.
“This is Violet Thompson,” I gestured between the two women, “One of our new systems engineers.”
“Oh, I’m so excited that you’re here,” Mary grinned and shook Violet’s hand with enthusiasm, “We’re getting so close. We’re just working out the bugs we’ve found between Boson’s engines and this new feature we developed. I’d love to get your input once you have time to look everything over.”
“Sounds awesome,” Violet’s eyes lit up, “I love problem-solving.”
“Thank f—god,” Mary caught herself with a smirk in my direction, “We can now use two hands to count the number of women who work at Sun Steer.”
“Yikes!” Violet laughed before we continued the rest of the office tour. I pointed out where all the facilities were, including the mother’s lounge and sensory room. When we passed the restrooms, I remembered Signe’s fit about a year ago when she discovered the coin-operated tampon dispenser for the first time.
How I watched her hold her palm out to Zaid, who was CTO, waiting for him to drop quarters into her hand.
That felt like such a long time ago.
Signe definitely would have been written up if we were working at Blix, my old company.
But Violet was right; things were more relaxed here.
I needed to remember that.
* * *
“Whatchya listenin’ to?” Signe asked as I approached the women at the table.
It had been a week since we hired Violet, and she had readily accepted Signe and Mary’s invitation to girls’ lunch.
“My work playlist,” I replied, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks.
You’re beautiful, but your taste in music is trash, Jacqueline.
Goddamn, not this again.
Why do you insist on making me want to claw my ears out?
I frowned at the memory of Vincent’s words. How he hated my music. He thought it was tasteless, meaningless. He refused to listen to more than one song I chose in the car, or around the apartment we used to share. Whenever I turned on my music to listen to in the shower, he would sneak into the bathroom and turn it down so he wouldn’t have to hear it in the other room.
“Oh, gimmie.” Signe made grabby fingers for my phone. She waited patiently for me to remove my earbuds and put them away in their case before I showed her the screen on my phone. My playlist was still up, and it had the last song I was listening to fully on display.
“I forgot about that song,” Violet said, leaning around Signe to get a view as well, “That’s on your work playlist? What else is on it?”
I hesitated for a moment.
Then I forced myself to recall Mariam’s words.
If someone feels that comfortable putting down your likes and interests, they are the worst kind of person. They’re not your friends. Don’t hide that part of yourself, just give people the opportunity to prove that they care about you and your friendship. If they don’t, let them go.
That session with Mariam was about a year ago, the day before I discovered Signe’s secret romance novel that was essentially fanfic of Zaid. When I confronted her about it, she was distraught that I had gone to Zaid first. When she said she thought we were friends, it felt like a physical punch in my gut.
Later, after sorting the mess out with Zaid and learning that he was hopelessly in love with her (and nobody felt harassed in the workplace), Signe and I had a heart-to-heart where I admitted my music taste to her.
And she never made fun of me for it.
So with that in mind, I handed my phone over to Violet, who eagerly scrolled through the songs.
“Jacqueline,” Violet shifted her gaze toward me, “This playlist is fire.”
“Is that good?” I was horrid at keeping up with the newest slang.
“This is basically what I would listen to back in middle school and high school,” Violet replied.
“I still listen to half her playlist,” Mary added, smiling at me “Because you reminded me how fun the music is.”
I grinned, before finally taking my seat next to Mary, “There is something so nostalgic about recession pop.”
Signe threw her head back to laugh, making me jump in my chair at the abrupt sound. The other women started laughing too, even shy Jamie.
“Recession pop,” Signe wiped the corner of her eye, “That’s amazing. I’m making a playlist like this and titling it that.”
My phone buzzed, and Violet’s eyebrow shot up before she held it out to me, “Someone named Marco just texted you.”
“Oh.” I took it from her hands and sat in my seat, excited for what he had to say.
Signe leaned over, pressing her body against mine as she looked over my shoulder to see my text thread with him, “So…who’s Marco?” I could practically hear her eyebrows wiggling suggestively.
I smirked, “My brother.”
“Oh,” Signe leaned back, “Boring—wait, you have a brother?”
Marco: Sorry I didn’t respond, Dad and his new girlfriend dropped by unexpectedly last night.
Me: Oh really? How did that go?
Marco: As well as it usually does, except I was balls deep inside Samuel when they knocked so that part was awful.
I clapped my hand over my mouth, secondhand embarrassment for my brother flooding my veins.
“What’s going on?” Violet asked.
I glanced up before replying, “My, um, traditional dad practically walked in on my brother and his boyfriend.”
“Yikes!” Signe’s mouth dropped, and my heart rate spiked when I glanced around the table to take in everyone’s surprised expressions. Nobody seemed offended, though. They just looked at me curiously, as if waiting for the rest of the story.
“Another drop of Jacqueline’s lore,” Mary steepled her fingers together conspiratorially, “Interesting.”
I shook my head at her, “I don’t have lore.”
“You do,” Jamie nodded while playing with her salad, “You just haven’t opened up to us about it.”
“I open up,” I frowned, glancing around the table.
“You allow us to open up to you,” Signe countered, “You’re an awesome listener. But we still don’t know much about Jacqueline Williams.”
Violet grinned at me, taking a sip of her soda before asking, “Are you close with your parents?”
“Who are you, my therapist?”
“She goes to therapy,” Signe nodded. Then she turned to glance at Violet, who was sucking down her milkshake through a straw, “Do you go to therapy?”
“Off and on,” Violet lifted her hand to splay her fingers, tilting it back and forth, “It’s hard to prioritize my mental health when I have a child I want to focus on instead.”
At Violet’s words, Signe turned to me, her hazel eyes wide as she jutted a thumb over her shoulder toward the newest employee at Sun Steer, “See? That’s how you drop your lore to your friends. Violet offered additional information without much prompting. Now we all know that she has a kid.”
Violet laughed, her green eyes bouncing between us all as she continued to sip her milkshake.
“I told you that I have a brother.”
“And that your dad is ‘traditional’,” Jamie added with a thoughtful expression, “…How does your brother deal with that?”
“He kind of…doesn’t,” I furrowed my brows in thought, “Marco doesn’t hide any aspects of his life from our dad. But he doesn’t go out of his way to share, either.” I sighed, smiling at the waiter when they brought me a salad of my own. I had come here often enough that the waiter who usually works this shift remembered my order, “My dad isn’t really part of our life, though. He lives on cruise ships now that his children are grown and can take care of themselves. Occasionally, we suspect guilt gets to him, and he will show up at Marco’s to ‘catch up.’” I lifted my fingers in air quotes.
“That sounds stressful,” Mary frowned, “Does he show up and surprise you?”
I shook my head, “No. My dad only ever really wanted a son. He’s never really cared about what I’m up to. We keep in touch via email whenever he reaches out.”
Silence settled around the table, and when I glanced at all the women watching, I felt unease start to turn in my stomach.
“…And maybe I shouldn’t have lore dropped during girls’ lunch.” I started to shrink in my seat, their gazes making me nervous that I crossed a line. Perhaps my “lore” wasn’t truly worth sharing at all. I didn’t want to bring the mood down, but it also didn’t surprise me that I did, either.
Typical Jacqueline, being a party pooper .
“I’m so sorry,” Signe sighed, patting my leg once with her hand before grinning, “Your dad is missing out.”
I lifted a shoulder, “Maybe.” I didn’t want to keep talking about myself, I looked across the table to meet Violet’s eyes, desperate to pivot the conversation, “Tell us about your kid.”
Violet’s grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up, “Oh, she’s the best. She’s going to be five soon.”
“Aww, happy birthday,” Jamie smiled. Everyone shifted, letting the newest member of the group start talking more about herself as my phone buzzed in my hand again.
Marco: Anyway, have you downloaded the new app I told you about yet?
Me: Not yet. When I’m ready to date again I might consider it, though.
Marco: Good. Unrelated, how is it working with Handsome-British-Man? Still weird as hell?
I blushed, glancing around the table to ensure no one was looking at me texting while Violet spoke about her daughter.
“She’s autistic,” I thought I physically felt my ears perk up, and I momentarily forgot about my conversation with Marco while I tuned into the conversation around me, “Also nonverbal. So she’s in a specialized preschool classroom for neurodivergent kids. Thankfully, the school district provides her with additional resources like OT, PT, Speech therapy, etc.”
“What’s speech therapy for, if she’s nonverbal?” Mary asked around a mouthful of food.
“Her AAC device,” Violet explained, “It’s like an iPad that vocalizes for her. That way she can still advocate for herself. Her teachers also sign and sound words out, in case she does end up speaking one day.”
“Is there a pretty high chance of that?” Signe asked.
I was fascinated by watching Violet talk about her daughter’s special needs like this. So casually, as if it was all no big deal. It was obvious Violet loved her daughter and enjoyed talking about her with us. I couldn’t imagine having a child; it wasn’t something I ever planned for myself.
Violet had a deep maternal side, evidenced by the positive way she spoke about her daughter’s special needs and educated us about them.
“We really can’t know for sure,” Violet drummed her fingers on the table, “She used to say ‘mama’, but has since regressed—which is very common for autistic kids. I have spoken to parents who say that one day their five- or six-year-old randomly started speaking in full sentences, and I’ve also spoken to parents whose kids never vocalize without AAC. So, it could go either way.”
“Wow,” Signe sighed wistfully, resting an elbow on the table to support her cheek, “I can see why you’d prioritize meeting her needs over having consistent therapy for yourself.”
“Yeah,” Violet grinned, glancing down at her phone resting on the table. Screen up. She lifted it to show us all her lock screen, “She’s worth it, though.” The image was of her daughter. She had blonde hair held back in two braids, sporting a wide cheeky grin. Her daughter was laughing, her big green eyes shining brightly.
I had no idea what autistic children looked like. I had little to no understanding of how children were supposed to look or behave. However, looking at this picture taken in the middle of her daughter’s laughter, I wouldn’t have guessed that this little girl had challenges at all.
“She’s beautiful,” I spoke, my own phone clutched tightly in my hands.
I wondered if Violet and I could speak privately at another time, where I could pick her brain about her daughter. When did she first see the signs of autism start to present themselves? How has that affected her daughter’s development? What will her life as an adult look like? …Would her daughter and I have things in common?
A diagnosis won’t wait to present itself until a doctor has deemed it to do so , Mariam’s words echoed in my head, Seeking out a diagnosis is a personal choice, don’t gaslight yourself just because a doctor hasn’t confirmed or denied one yet .
I wasn’t sure if I was neurodivergent or not.
I didn’t want to jump the gun.
What if I just hyper-fixated on learning about autism and convinced myself I was when I wasn’t? What if I was inappropriately claiming a label for myself that belonged to others? Would someone like me, someone high functioning and able to act as expected (for the most part), invalidate someone like Violet’s daughter’s diagnosis?
I shook my head, focusing back on my conversation with Marco.
Me: Still weird as hell, especially since he had to drive me to work recently.
Marco: Oh, hot.
Me: No, not hot.
Me: Well.
Me: Maybe a little hot.
Marco: REALLY?? Tell me everything.
I sighed, getting ready for the onslaught of messages I was about to receive from him when I replied.
Me: …He rides a motorcycle.
Marco: JACQUELINE MARIE WILLIAMS
Marco: YOU RODE ON A MOTORCYCLE WITH HIM??
Marco: How does this guy keep getting hotter and hotter?
I bit my lip to stifle a giggle, ignoring Mary’s curious glance in my direction.
Me: He’s just a guy.
Marco: Is he seeing anyone? Maybe the universe is trying to tell you to tap that again.
Me: Absolutely not. That would be so inappropriate.
Marco: Okay but hear me out…
Marco: Who cares?
Me: Me. Human Resources. I care about hooking up with someone in upper management. That’s so messed up for so many reasons.
Marco: That just makes it hotter, honestly. Forbidden. Dare I say naughty?
Me: Ew.
Me: Don’t you have a boyfriend you need to apologize to for last night?
Marco: Shoot. You’re right. Ttyl.
I grinned, pocketing my phone and attempting to focus back on the conversation happening around me.
“Wait, you’re cousins?” I heard Violet ask right when I dug into my protein bowl.
“They’re also best friends.” Jamie grinned, leaning against Mary when she rolled her eyes at her girlfriend.
“He’s a pain in the ass,” Mary smirked, “But yeah, we’re close.”
“That’s so cute,” Signe sighed, “Did I tell you that Zaid was lowkey intimated by Leo when he was first hired?”
I raised my eyebrows at that, “What? Why?”
“Before he was hired,” Signe gave me a secretive look, “I kept referring to him as ‘Mary’s Hot Cousin’.” I snorted at the same time Violet laughed.
“Why?” I asked.
Signe’s eyes widened, “…You’ve seen him, right?”
Yeah, I’d probably seen more of him than anyone else at this table. That didn’t mean I’d give him juvenile nicknames like “Mary’s Hot Cousin”.
“But wait,” I shook my head, trying to remember the timeline correctly, “Weren’t you into Zaid, writing romance novels about him?” At that, Violet’s eyes widened as she turned to Signe.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ll explain that another time,” Signe promised Violet before turning back to me, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice when other people are attractive. I’m madly in love with Zaid, and I’m also sitting here right now looking at you and thinking, ‘Wow, that top is doing good things for your boobs.”
I blushed before glancing down at my button-up today. It was a more form-fitting one, I didn’t wear it that often. It was laundry day, and my more comfortable clothing was dirty.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes,” all the women at the table replied, before Mary asked, “Are you going out after work or something?”
I instinctively went to button up another button, but Signe made a whining sound, “Don’t hide the ladies. They deserve to be flaunted every now and then.”
I froze, my hand stuck on my button I hadn’t done up yet, “I don’t want to be inappropriate.”
“You’re not,” Jamie assured me with a smile, her blue eyes shining, “You’re just attractive, Jacqueline. Whether you button your shirt all the way up or not, you still have nice boobs.”
I felt another blush, memories of Leo’s words filling my head, Fuck, they’re perfect .
“I’m just saying you’re attractive. That doesn’t mean I’m going to make a move on you. It was the same with Leo. Then he got hired, and I promptly reminded Zaid how much more attractive I found him as often as I possibly could.” Signe explained.
I smirked at her, “I’m sure Zaid appreciated that.”
“He did,” Signe’s eyes glazed over, a loving expression covering her face as she thought about her boyfriend, “God, I love him.”
“Aww,” Violet rested her chin on her palm, “You almost make me want to believe in love again.”
“You should,” Signe grinned.
“Nah,” Violet shook her head, “The love for my daughter is more than enough for me.”
My thoughts started to wander after that, thinking about how casually comfortable Signe was able to dish out flattering compliments like that. How confident she was in her relationship with Zaid, and how she wasn’t blushing or too embarrassed to lift other people up.
Sometimes, I looked at Signe and how she behaved, to get an idea of what I could work on myself.
I wanted to be a girl’s girl. I had never been given a real opportunity to be a girl’s girl until I befriended these women. So I took note of that subtle comradery we shared during lunch. Even if it started with everyone (except Mary) agreeing that Leo was conventionally attractive.
He was more than conventionally attractive, though.
I thought he was one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. His eyes were my favorite part of his face, as cheesy and basic as that made me sound. They were such a specific light shade of blue, emphasized by how dark his hair was, that I had to intentionally stop myself from making direct eye contact whenever I saw them.
I had to force my gaze away more often than not, not wanting to come off as creepy or inviting. Eye contact was generally hard for me, mostly because I didn’t realize that it wasn’t a literal term at all.
Growing up, I thought you had to lock eyes with people to maintain eye contact, but apparently, no one actually did that. People looked at eyebrows, cheekbones, foreheads, whatever, and that still counted as eye contact.
I didn’t realize that until Marco explained it to me in high school.
It made me feel both relief and also annoyance. I had stressed so much about how uncomfortable eye contact with people made me, and I never needed to actually look someone in the eye this entire time.
Leo’s eyes though? I remembered getting lost in them the night we shared. I didn’t feel intimidated by his eye contact in an uncomfortable way. I was intimidated by his eye contact because of how much I loved it.
Which was why I needed to maintain a distance between us in the office.
Because as much as Marco would like to argue otherwise, stirring up anything like that with Leo was out of the question. Unprofessional. Irresponsible. Even unethical of me.
I was finding myself going through this mantra more and more often as the days went by. I refused to acknowledge my resolve, attempting to crumble every time Leo passed me in the hallway at work, or every time I heard him laugh with our coworkers.
We had a decent thing going when he wasn’t driving me up the wall or causing me undue stress.
He and I had to keep things professional, especially since he probably had no idea that I still struggled with an attraction to him. This daily pull I felt whenever he was near, and how desperate my body was to feel those same feelings I experienced that first and only night we shared.
No.
I was a grown woman, capable of using a vibrator.
I could deal with this.
I had to.