11. Naya
ELEVEN
NAYA
"You said you didn't know if you wanted me to touch you again." Amias cupped my cheek.
It was another late night in the office, and I was pinned against the wall of my cubicle. I was hoping no one was around to see us like this.
"I…don't…." Touch me, please, please, please touch me.
He bent his head, and I inhaled his musky cologne. He always smelled so good. Since I first met him years ago in my father's house, I'd lived to be close enough to smell him.
"I want to kiss you, Naya," he murmured, his lips brushing against mine.
I could hardly breathe. We'd gone from a finger under my chin to a kiss in no time. I didn't know what was up and down.
I licked my lips, and he growled. He bent his head and holy mother of god! The man could kiss. My eyes closed and his lips moved against mine and then his tongue slowly licked at the seam of my lips, coaxing me to open to him. And when I did, fire-fucking-works, and I didn't even swear much.
His tongue dueled with mine and I heard him groan. His hands cupped my ass and brought me closer to him. He was so hard, and I whimpered.
He bit my lower lip, suckled it, and then bit it again. "You like that?"
My mouth followed his, and I heard his gruff laugh. "You make me so hard, Tweety Bird."
"Tweety Bird. Tweety Bird. Tweety Bird."
I opened my eyes as my alarm went off. It had been a gag gift from Darren.
God, I was wet from a dream. It wasn't the first time I dreamt of Amias, but it was the first time it had been quite so visual, so erotic. I moved my hand under my sleep shorts and between my legs. I stroked my clitoris, remembering his face, his voice, his smell.
Usually, I needed my vibrator and lots of help from romance novels to get off, but after a dream like the one I had, my body was already primed, and I came with just a few strokes of my fingers.
What the hell was this man doing to me?
That message exchange about how I didn't know if I wanted him to touch me again was a week ago. Since then, I'd heard nothing from him. I hadn't even seen him much in the office because I didn't have any meetings scheduled with him.
I took the day off for my interviews, so I decided to put Amias out of my mind and focus on what was important. I was interviewing with one of the hottest tech companies in the country that was innovative and had an awesome culture from what I'd read on Glassdoor.
I took a shower and stood in a black bra and panties in front of my open closet.
I looked down at my legs and sighed. From mid-thigh to my ankles, there were burn marks.
Ugly, jagged patterns that mapped out a harsh journey of survival and pain.
The skin there bore the brutal results of my accident—the colors a dissonant palette of reds, purples, and browns, weaving into one another in a chaotic symphony of scars.
Some areas were raised, ridges formed by the healing flesh, while others were smooth, almost glossy, a stark contrast to the untouched skin nearby.
Despite the passage of years, the sensation of heat and the smell of burning still flickered back to life in my mind, as vivid and invasive as the night it all happened.
"Your scars are not ugly, Sparky," Darren told me once when he'd walked in on me while I was changing at the institute and tried to hide my body, ashamed. "They are proof of your strength, your capacity to endure and heal."
"They're repulsive," I whispered, tears running down my cheeks.
He wiped my tears. "No. They are part of you and tell a story of your resilience. I see this and I'm in awe of you, of how you have survived. I wish you didn't think you had to hide this."
"Anyone who's seen them has…."
"Who?"
"Kara and Nolan, they both said that I needed more plastic surgery and wondered how I could stand to even look…. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I know how my back and legs look and?—"
"Kara and Nolan are fucking assholes. I'm telling you, if I didn't think of you as a sister, I'd fuck you."
"Darren, you say the sweetest things," I said on a sobbing hiccup.
I wish I could believe Darren, and we both wished we didn't feel the way we did about each other.
But there was zero attraction, so he told me all about his failed relationships and I told him…
well, nothing. I didn't have any relationships.
I didn't Tinder or Bumble or whatever else people did.
I couldn't stand to face the rejection. It was better to not even try.
I pulled out a hanger that had a pantsuit I'd bought a couple of years ago. It was navy blue, a huge variation from my black. I'd gone all out and bought a white camisole blouse to go with it. I'd never worn it.
I wondered if I still fit into it.
I put it on and looked at myself for the first time in something that was not black and felt a surge of excitement run through me. A new job. A new me. Daddy had been dead for nearly a year, maybe now I could let my grief go and start living again.
I was about to tie up my shoulder-length hair and then decided, no, I was taking an Uber to the interview and didn't have to worry about my hair being all over the place as it did when I bicycled.
I took my time blow-drying it and using a straightening iron to curl it.
I liked how it fell around my shoulders.
I liked how soft my hair was. I felt pretty.
I wore more makeup than I normally did, which was usually lip gloss and mascara.
This time I put on foundation and used a powder to set it.
It was a good foundation because it hid my blemishes, and my scar wasn't quite so prominent.
I even wore some blush. The end result was no different from how I normally looked… but I looked brighter and happier.
As I was ready to go out of my apartment, I decided to forgo my sensible shoes and wore my high-heel booties, the ones I'd bought in California and never really wore. They were not broken in, but I wasn't going to be walking that much. I tested the shoes and felt comfortable in them.
"Wow," I whispered to my reflection. "You look good, Naya. Now, go, get that job. It's yours to lose."
My interview was in Cambridge, and I fell in love with everyone I interviewed with. I had excellent rapport with the Vice President of Engineering who'd be my boss.
"I know Ethan Rogers. We were in Harvard together when I was doing my MBA. How's the old boy doing?" Conrad Petersen asked. He was a Brit and like Ethan, personable and easy to talk to.
"Ethan is good. He's on paternity leave right now."
"How's he going to feel about losing you?"
"We all have to do what's right for our careers," I evaded smoothly.
The CEO was as different from Amias as possible. Eva Chen was a woman who wore a flowery dress and was very feminine. She also had a great sense of humor.
"I know InnoWare is not as big as Midas, but we make up for it in sheer fun," she said enthusiastically.
By the end of the interviews, I felt like InnoWare really wanted me to join their company.
Instead of asking me questions to test my abilities and skill, everyone I spoke to sold their company to me, gave me reasons to work for them.
The recruiter confirmed this when he called me a half hour after the interviews to let me know that everyone was impressed, and he was certain they'd make an offer.
I couldn’t believe my luck. My first interview had been with a great company, and I was probably going to get the job.
I wouldn't even have to leave Boston. My pay would go up by nearly thirty percent as I would go from being a manager to a director.
I'd have a bigger team and more responsibility.
Best of all, I'd have gotten this job because of my abilities and skills and not because someone was doing me or my brother any favors.
My good mood lasted until I got home when Nolan called to tell me that he wouldn't be able to join me on Saturday. I'd even canceled training to go to Woodlawn Cemetery in Everett where our parents were buried.
"Why?"
"Something came up, it's urgent," he told me.
"Like what?"
"Kara's aunt isn't feeling well."
"I'm so sorry to hear that." Kara's aunt was in an elder-care home in Waltham, and I knew that her time was short.
"Well, maybe we can go on Sunday?"
"I can't this weekend. You should go on your own, Naya."
I didn't want to do this alone. I didn't want to see my father's grave by myself on his death anniversary. I felt a rush of tears and I texted Darren because I was so tired of being alone and handling everything on my own.
Me: It's daddy's anniversary tomorrow and Nolan can't make it. Kara's aunt is sick.
Darren: What time do you want to go?
Me: You have training at the institute.
Darren: I'll pick you up around noon, okay?
Me: Are you sure?
Darren: Don't be an asshole. You know I'll take you. No way will I let you do this alone.
Darren: P.S. your brother is a douche.
Me: Kara's aunt is ill.
Darren: Correction. Your brother is a lying douche.
Was he lying? No, he wouldn't. I couldn’t believe that of Nolan. He was a jerk alright, but he knew how hard Daddy's death had been on me and he wouldn’t want me to go see him a year to the day without him.