Chapter 8 #2
Plopping myself back down in my chair, I swung it side to side, trying to order my thoughts so I could get back to my busy day.
From nowhere, that memory of Niko saying, ‘As you wish’ infiltrated my traitorous brain again, as if once wasn’t enough.
There was no stopping the full-body shiver that followed.
I still didn’t know how he could possibly have remembered that line from my favorite movie.
It had been ten years, for crying out loud.
I closed my eyes and pictured Niko with a black mask across his face and one tied around his head, saying those words on a hillside. A Turkish pirate. Now that would be interesting. I was all but sighing and ready to fan my face when someone knocked on my door.
“Come in,” I yelled, expecting Jaz.
Niko, in all his black, pinstriped, three-piece Armani glory, tentatively opened the door and stood stiffly in the doorway. Wow, he looked amazing in black. Great, I’d manifested the dread pirate Roberts himself.
Get a hold of yourself, woman.
“Oh, um. What can I do for you?” I asked gruffly.
I stood up and almost slipped on the pen I’d sent flying earlier, but caught myself on the desk before making a complete fool of myself.
“Are you all right? You look a little flushed,” he said, walking toward me, eyes wide.
I held my hand up to stop him, which he did, mid-stride. He nodded and backed away, getting the message.
“I’m fine. What can I do for you?” I asked, taking my time and making sure my chair didn’t slide out from under me. I looked up at him, hoping to maintain some semblance of control.
“Well, it’s been a week since I started, and I wanted to know if you wanted to do an evaluation.” His posture was straight as a pin, his hands clasped together in front of him like a shield awaiting my verbal onslaught.
“An evaluation? Of what?”
He looked around, confusion coloring his face as his brows lowered. “Of, of me.”
“After a week?” I croaked out. Was he kidding? He needed to leave so I could splash cold water on my reddening face.
“Well, yes.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your employee handbook for the department heads, which I appreciated reading, said you usually conduct them after six weeks. But by then, anything I’m doing wrong is already a habit. That’s what my research says. So I thought I’d ask now so I didn’t, you know, pick up any bad habits.”
He delivered his monologue so deadpanned that I thought he might be joking. Memories of his dry humor filtered in, but I pushed them aside as I tried to figure out what to say.
I was due in a meeting in about twenty minutes, but he had knocked me off my axis with this silly request. I should’ve given him a hard time, but instead I did the dumbest thing ever.
“Why did you have people call you Nick in school?” I blurted out, like the loose-lipped moron I was.
Must’ve been the pirate thing. The question had been ready to slip out whenever I was around him.
It was just so strange for a grown man to have changed his name like that, and to my chagrin, it bothered me.
His head jerked back like I’d slapped him, surprise written all over his face. He straightened his tie and looked around, stepped into my office, and closed the door. It took him a moment to make eye contact with me again.
“I’m not sure what that has to do with my work evaluation, but if that is something that is bothering you somehow, I’ll address it.”
He spoke so formally that I almost heard a British accent in his voice. But I was glad it was more than a one-word answer.
Do not think about Niko in regency romances or pirate movies. Stop. It. Now,
When I didn’t answer him, mostly because I didn’t trust myself and what else would flow out unbidden, he continued.
“The short answer is, I wanted to fit in.” Niko clasped his hands together in front of him again, discomfort evident in his furrowed brows and tense body language.
Whoa. That was so not what I thought he was going to say.
“I don’t understand. You had a perfect GPA, and people were clamoring to be in your study group. Bugged you all the time to tutor them. I mean, you weren’t the most social guy in school, but still.”
Looking me dead in the eye with a fierceness I hadn’t seen since our class debates, he answered, “That’s not the same thing as having friends, Leyla.” His voice was tense but not harsh.
“I suppose it’s not.” All the fight seemed to bleed out of my stance and voice. “Did you not have any friends? What about that guy Mike from our chem class? You guys seemed to hang out.”
I wanted to smack my mouth shut before he realized how much I paid attention to him back then.
His lips quirked up. “Yes, he and I are still friends, so I guess you’re right.
” Then he frowned and let go of his hands.
It didn’t escape my notice that they balled into fists at his sides as he continued.
“But my experience with making friends, in high school especially, was abysmal at best. I changed my name to Nick to sound less, um, foreign, I guess. Not that it helped much.”
“Is, is that why you try to hide your accent? I-it was stronger when you spoke to your mom that one time when we were together.” What was I saying? Surely, I was having an out-of-body experience.
Shut up, Leyla!
Niko stuck his hands in his pockets, and that slight smile, or maybe it was a smirk, appeared. “Do you like my accent?”
He was never a man of many words, except when he was talking science. Always short and to the point. His question was doing something to my poor, dark heart because that sounded like flirting.
Do not flirt with the enemy, soldier. No flirting. No fraternizing with the enemy.
I huffed out a breath, head back in the game. “No. That’s not what I meant,” I answered too quickly.
He chuckled and looked down at his shoes, with his signature nod. “You’re right. It is more pronounced when I’m with family.”
When he looked back at me, gone was the arrogant man I’d witnessed before. There was a vulnerability there, and it touched my heart.
“Like Jaz. She’s from Belize, and when her mom calls, I don’t even think she’s speaking English anymore.” I tried not to smile but failed miserably.
He nodded, his voice serious again. “It wasn’t easy being an outsider. Different culture. Different accent. So, I worked hard to get rid of it all, including my name. Everyone knew me as Niko from childhood, but I changed it to Nick to sound more…”
“American.” The word slipped out in a quiet rush, making my heart squeeze for what he had experienced.
“Yes.”
“Why go back to Niko now?”
He inhaled deeply and paused. “I went back to it after college because I know who I am now. And I won’t change that for anyone ever again.”
Those simple words detonated a bomb inside my heart and mind. My hand reached up and rubbed my neck as the unease of those words slid down my spine.
What would it be like to feel that way again?
“Hey, are you all right?” I heard him ask. Blinking back the sting of tears, I sat up and pulled my guard back up around me again.
“Yes, of course. To, ah, answer your question, without any preparation, I’d say maybe try being friendlier with your team?”
Niko frowned and tilted his head. “Has anyone complained about me?”
I held my hand up. “No, not at all. They all seem to appreciate your drive and focus.”
“My, my drive and focus. I see. But they’re saying I’m not friendly?”
“No, but I’ve seen you turn down invitations to lunch several times. It just helps you connect with your team on a more personal level.”
“I don’t do well with that.” He delivered his answer like he always did. Deadpanned and blunt, but not harsh.
“Don’t do well with what, Niko? Having lunch with your co-workers?” I asked, not understanding.
“I don’t do well in social situations. I’m sure you’ve noticed that long before now.”
I had noticed, but I didn’t answer him.
“It’s just not something I’m comfortable with. I’m here to work, not make friends. Being their superior, it doesn’t feel right. And I’m not good at small talk about things I don’t know or understand. I’m sorry if you feel that will hurt my chances of staying on after the trial period.”
It wasn’t clear how to answer him. That was more words than he’d said to me all week, and I was parsing all of them out.
Scenes of him eating alone in the dining hall at UCSD, never joining group conversations, working at his desk while the other students were taking videos and selfies bombarded my mind like a movie.
But along with those were just as many scenes of him and me working on our project, laughing and talking about everything under the sun.
“No, of course I won’t hold that against you. It was just an observation.” I rubbed my hands together, altogether flustered.
“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I’ll let you get back to work.” He looked at me for a few more moments, then turned abruptly and walked out the door, closing it softly, leaving me frozen in disbelief.
The interaction conjured up another thought of him sounding like Mr. Darcy from Sofia’s favorite Jane Austen movie. My head hit the desk with a groan.
Great, now I was just a hand flex away from insanity.