Chapter 10
ANSON
“Is that a …” he asked, but instead of naming the printer he ran up to it, his eyes wide with excitement.
“It isn’t.”’ I smiled.
I think I heard Benji mutter, “Holy fucking shit,” under his breath. I stood just inside the doorway, my hands locked behind my back, allowing the sliding doors to close automatically behind me. I watched as Benji explored.
“Wow.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s perfect.”
“I’ve always thought so.” Benji’s smile lit up the whole room, and I may have realized a beat or two too late that I was standing there staring at it, unmoving.
Had I done the same thing upstairs, when I had turned around in front of the elevator to find Benji directly in front of me, barely an inch of space between us.
In the lab, I turned to look out the glass doors to the outside room, even though we had just walked through the space. “No laptop yet, but we can …” I didn’t need to finish the sentence. Benji headed to the desk and pulled out the chair.
“Let’s get started.” He patted the chair, a match to the one I used upstairs, his smile widening as he rubbed the leather.
“Jesus, this thing really is soft.” There was one other chair in the room, a more standard office chair, that Beck had insisted I have available for him.
It was decidedly less comfortable than my gaming chair, and though I’d never thought about it before, I realized that may have been a subconscious choice on my part because I rarely enjoyed being interrupted when Beck felt the need to hunt me down in my private lab.
The less comfortable the chair, the more likely Beck’s visits were kept short.
Before I sat, I texted Ross and asked him to order two more of the gaming chairs. I stood indecisively even once that was done and even though Benji had already sat off to one side of the computer screens in Beck’s chair.
He tapped the chair again. “Ready to get started? Or am I keeping you from something? I can go, or, you know, work on my own if you have other things you need to do.”
I pulled out the good chair and sat down.
Benji and I got to work.
There are no windows in the lab, and there have been many days when I’ve exited only to discover I’d worked well past sundown or sometimes even through the night.
Benji and I had already done that the night before, but it never once crossed my mind how many hours it had been since I last slept.
At one point, Benji registered movement outside the doors.
I’d long ago learned to tune everything out when I was working in the lab.
“Your computer,” I explained, barely glancing up.
Benji chuckled as if he were embarrassed to have reacted to the movement outside the door when I had not. He slid his chair back. “Okay if I …” He pointed, and I nodded, taking the lanyard off my neck and handing it to him.
Benji reentered with the computer, setting it down on the desk. He returned to my side but only to drag the wheelless office chair around until he was facing me from the other end of the desk. He settled in, a little to my left side, unblocked by the large computer screens.
He was able to log in, and we both worked quietly for who knows how long.
“Wait,” he said at one point, jumping out of the chair, catching it before it toppled over. “Is that it?”
He was by my side, looking over my shoulder at the screen a second later. “Is it?” he asked again.
“I think so. Let’s start the printer and find out.”
He stood behind me as I uploaded our design, one of the printers waking up and starting its work. For reasons I was not quite sure of, Benji and I continued to stare at the model on the screen, his hand finding its way to my shoulder as the printer picked up speed on the other side of the room.
I froze, barely able to breathe. The image on the screen felt like a lifeline. I was afraid to turn and look at him, standing so close, his hand gripping me in his excitement. I didn’t dare move, terrified he’d pull away, caught between what I wanted, and what I knew I could never have.
After long minutes, Benji began, “Should we …” I started to nod, not sure if he was asking if we should check the printer, or start on something else, or wrap up for the day.
He didn’t get to finish his thought, because at that precise moment, the doors swooshed open, and Beck stormed in.
Benji had apparently not noticed movement outside the doors that time, because he jumped back, separating himself from my shoulder as Beck entered.
Beck had interrupted me many times over the years to drag me to torturous meetings or to make sure I ate something, more than once interrupting important thoughts. I don’t think I had ever been more frustrated by Beck’s intrusions than I was that evening.
Benji had his phone out. “Look at the time. It’s after eight. I’ve kept you past dinner again. I can see myself out.” He looked at Beck. “If that’s okay?”
I stood facing him, my back to Beck. “I suppose it is late. But again, I’d say I’m the one who has kept you. Let me call you a car?”
Beck made some kind of noise behind me, and Benji’s eyes left mine briefly to turn to him.
“Oh! No. Not necessary. I’ve still got my semester pass. I’ll take the T. No problem. I … I’m gonna get going. Good night, Anson. Good night, Beck.” Benji rounded the desk and walked past my partner.
Beck reached out and grabbed Benji by the upper arm. “Beck!” I admonished. He ignored me though he did immediately let go, holding his hand in front of Benji’s face instead.
“Um …” Benji was as unsure of Beck’s move as I was.
“You are not yet officially an employee, Benji. I’m going to need that lanyard from around your neck.”
I’d not even noticed that Benji still had my ID badge.
“Oh, of course. I’m so sorry.” Benji lifted the cord from around his neck and placing it in Beck’s outstretched hand, looking at me as he did so.
I shrugged, and Benji smiled before turning and leaving the lab. Beck and I watched him go, the door sliding shut automatically behind him. We both stood in our places for a beat.
“So, how’d that go, Ani?” Beck asked, slapping my lanyard down on the desk.
“It was great! We’ve got a component printing.” I pointed needlessly at the only piece of equipment working in the whole lab. “And we’ve moved forward on the …”
Beck’s hand was in front of my face. “No science! Come on, Anson, let’s get some dinner. Then I’m calling you a car, and I don’t want to see you here until after ten tomorrow. Have you even slept in the past two days?”
I thought about it and realized that I had not.
The next few afternoons continued shockingly similarly to that first day. Benji would show up, we’d have lunch in my office, and then we’d head to the lab. Each evening we’d be surprised when Beck barged in, complaining about the lateness of the hour and shooing Benji out.
After a week or so, we inevitably hit a roadblock, each of us staring at separate computers, sitting facing each other at our desk in the lab, my vision of him blocked by computer screens.
“We’re close,” I muttered.
“No, we’re not,” he mumbled back.
“If we just …”
With a sigh, Benji stood and something dropped to the pit of my stomach at the sight of him.
We’d been together long enough for me to know that his messy hair meant he’d been running fingers through it behind that laptop screen.
My own fingers flexed on my keyboard at the thought, and as they made imaginary strokes, his right hand, not mine, raked through his bangs, causing them to stick up everywhere. It was utterly adorable.
“We’re stuck, Anson. I think we need a break. We need to, I don’t know, touch grass or something.”
“Touch grass?”
“Yeah, you know, get out of here. Get some vitamin D.” His arm rose again, and my stomach did this strange jumpy thing, thinking he was about to stroke his hair again. Instead, he looked at his watch.
“Vitamin D?”
“It’s only 5:30. Sun’s still up. Let’s walk to the Commons. There’s this great food truck that usually parks there. The best street tacos.”
“Street tacos?”
“Oh, um. Yeah. You probably don’t have time for something like that. Maybe I should …”
“No!” I think my shouting may have surprised Benji, based on how wide his eyes got. I know I surprised myself.
“No,” I said more quietly, more like me. “I would love to touch grass with you and try street tacos.”
It felt like the entire windowless room lit up with Benji’s reaction.
“Cool! We can walk from here, if that’s okay?
” We hung up our lab coats and exited the building via the main exit, me trailing after Benji, like I’d never before traversed the city I had lived in for well over twenty years.
I tried to remember the last time I’d spent time in the Commons or simply walking the streets of Boston.
The weather was brisk, the sun still shining as we dodged people on the sidewalk, me keeping up with Benji’s determined pace. I could feel my hair falling from my ponytail. It wouldn’t stay put, no matter how often I tried tucking it behind my ear.
“Yeah! They’re here!” Benji led me to a truck stationed on the side of the road near the park.
“Everything’s good here. What would you like?”
We ordered, and before I could even think about it, Benji was tapping the card reader—one manufactured by New Day Tech, I noted—and paying.
“Benji!”
“You’ve been buying lunch this whole time, Anson. It’s no problem.” The transaction done, Benji turned to me. Stepping away from the counter meant stepping toward me, so we were face-to-face, mere inches apart when he said, “It’s definitely my turn.”
“Benji. You don’t have to …” I began, but then Benji’s hand was there, a fingertip on my forehead, guiding my hair behind my ear. He dropped his hand slowly, and we stood, staring at each other.
Generally speaking, I never notice people’s eyes though I sometimes force myself to look into them.