Chapter 5
5
Eleven Months Ago
The only movement I’d done in the past three hours was standing up and waving my arms around to trigger the motion-sensor wall lights in the office. I was meant to leave at 5 p.m. to meet William for dinner, but Susie had the majority of Fate’s marketing team working to finish aspects of a full class on female entrepreneurship. She was presenting at a prestigious university’s careers fair the following day, including visuals, worksheets and a history of Fate’s most successful campaigns to date.
Hannah was putting the finishing touches on the graphics for the presentation, while I pulled up photographs of and statistics on a vegan ice-cream collaboration pop-up event we did in 2016. I’d worked with Hannah fairly regularly for the past few years, and having someone as talented as her on hand had been a lifesaver on several occasions. Katherine, the marketing team’s latest intern, sat opposite me looking bored out of her mind. It was monotonous and mentally tiring work, but she didn’t have the “if I get fired how will I afford rent” fear motivator. She lived with her parents and had traveled into the city to spend this evening replacing the ink in the printer.
William never liked me working late, but whenever I brought work home it almost always escalated into some sort of argument about not spending enough “quality time” together. Even if that “quality time” was just watching him watch football.
My phone dinged with a message:
EB: Any chance you’re still at the office? I’m working on the stats for tomorrow’s meeting and need to pick your brain.
GH: Still here. Send me what you have so far and I’ll take a look.
EB: Already en route.
My fingers froze on the keyboard. I scanned my desk, taking in the mess littering the gray surface, particularly the remnants of a day-old sandwich I’d eaten for lunch. Using a notepad as a dustpan and brush, I slid the crumbs and the plastic wrapping into the waste bin near my feet. Turning my computer monitor off so I could see myself reflected in the black shiny surface, I smoothed my hair down at the front and ran the back of my forefinger below my eyebrows, wiping off the shadowed mascara prints showcasing a long day of screen-staring. The last time I’d seen Eric before this was at our introductory one-on-one just under a month ago, where I took him through my day-to-day duties. I discovered in the meeting that his job spec list did not match up with mine. My laundry list of random tasks was double the length of his. I guess that made sense, seeing as I’d been in the role longer. I’d accumulated a lot of other responsibilities without dropping older ones. I assured myself it was a good thing. I noticed, though, that he did ask a lot of questions. Our emails had devolved into text messages when I realized it would be easier for him to reach me with quick one-off queries that way.
The glass door hissed as it slid open.
“Hey,” he said as he entered, shooting a warm charm-slicked smile at Hannah and Katherine before finally landing on me.
“Hey,” I replied in my most nonchalant voice, not taking my eyes off my screen.
I could feel the confusion practically radiating from Hannah. A wave of guilt washed over me, flushing my cheeks scarlet red. I took a deep breath and sucked down the idea that I was doing something wrong. Eric chose to come here; I didn’t invite him. So why was Hannah glancing wide-eyed back and forth between the two of us as if she should have a bucket of popcorn on her lap?
“You’re here late,” he stated, walking over to my desk.
“So are you,” I said, clearing my throat of any tonal inflection. I spun my chair toward him and crossed one leg over the other.
“True, but I’m the new guy, and trying to look good to Dharmash. Surely you’ve earned a five p.m. cut-off by now?”
I sighed. “Marketing dating apps is a noble cause that waits for no woman.”
He looked at me with that same slow, assessing stare he had given me when we were first introduced. I held his gaze for a second then swiveled back around to face my desk, suddenly noticing how much dirt was in the spaces between the letters of my keyboard.
“Sorryyyy.” Hannah winced and drew out the word as if she’d just interrupted a G8 Summit. “Grace, can I just get your final approval on this slide before we head off?”
“Uh-huh!” I stood up, turning to Eric. “Gimme one sec.”
Becoming suddenly self-conscious about the way my shoes sounded crossing the carpet, I stepped around our cluster of desks to look at Hannah’s screen. Leaning across her desk, I barely took in what she was showing me as I could feel Eric’s steely eyes continuing to assess me as he stood casually with his hands in his navy trouser pockets.
“Yep, looks great.” I shot them both a slightly awkward but warm smile. “Good job, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Hannah and Katherine packed up their things and said their goodbyes as I dropped back into my chair and faced Eric. “So... what did you need help with?”
My chest tightened as I waited for his response, nervous that he had a detailed, complex issue I wouldn’t be able to solve. What if it was Product-related? I had no idea what the inner workings of the app were like, and I’d be totally lost in the layers and layers of code that made up the Ignite algorithm. OK, he probably wouldn’t expect me to know that, but what if he needed visuals for his presentation tomorrow? Or some new fancy merchandise mocked up? I looked toward the door, wishing Hannah or even Katherine were still here so that I’d have someone to defer to when he finally asked his inevitably unanswerable question.
“Right.” He rolled the nearest black wheelie chair across the green-tiled carpet floor until it bumped into mine. He placed his laptop next to my computer, the red glow from his Ignite-branded desktop screen hitting his cheekbones. “I can’t find the daily active-user information anywhere on the data hub. I need it for tomorrow or I am going to look like a moron.”
My shoulders sagged with relief as I realized his problem was something I could help with. I took a deep breath, catching the scent of citrus and woodsmoke as he leaned in closer to view my screen.
“You’ll have to follow along with me because I can only access the one for Fate.”
I pulled up the program and clicked through the criteria, avoiding looking at the veins in his hands shifting as he followed along with sharp, deliberate strikes on his own keypad.
“So for Fate, it’s here.” I bent a finger against my screen. “Yemi developed this software for Catch Group, so Ignite’s version will match. You just need to calculate the average minutes per day.”
I glanced over my shoulder to check he was understanding and found his eyes fixed on me. I held his gaze for a second before clearing my throat.
“I also like to isolate the highest time spent by location, like this, so I can make a heat map of usage.”
He nodded, moving his hands across the keys on his laptop to do the same. We spent the next few minutes playing a weird, corporate version of Simon Says as I guided him through the mechanics of extracting the data he needed.
Eventually, he let out a breath and ran a hand through his sandy hair. “Well, shit. You’re an expert. Thank you, Grace.” His icy eyes melted into a blue sky.
For a second a butterfly tried to get loose in my stomach, its wings tickling my edges. I clamped it down before it could escape and responded with a nervous laugh, shrugging off the compliment. “It’s no big deal. I’m happy to help.”
His eyes scanned mine, as if I was a map and he was figuring out which direction to take.
Eventually, I went back to the class notes I was writing for Susie, jabbing the volume button so my Spotify playlist could keep me motivated. I had expected him to leave, but the chair creaked as he settled fully into it and pulled his laptop close. Eventually, the nervous energy stirring under my skin died down and I relaxed into our quiet tandem productivity. We sat side by side, the sound of my most-liked songs playing on shuffle through my headphones, our keyboards clacking and the air-conditioning unit whirring from the next room the only things punctuating the silence.
We worked like this for about thirty minutes until Eric finally broke the silence. “What time do you usually go home?”
“Did you not see the sleeping bag under my desk? I live here.” I raised an eyebrow. “Always on call, like a surgeon but much more important.”
I still don’t quite know why my default response was to regurgitate the joke William made to his friends at my expense. I felt the same twang of guilt as the words left my mouth, but Eric burst into laughter. Warmth swelled in my chest at the first time I’d seen a genuine smile from him, not just a charming smirk.
“Well, it looks like you weren’t the only one tonight, so at least there’s solidarity in the suffering?”
My eyes flicked up to Hannah’s now-empty desk. “True, Hannah was a big help tonight.”
“She seems... helpful.” He pursed his lips.
I scoffed a quiet laugh at his diplomatic choice of words.
“There’s no need to be coy. If you’re interested in her, she is the reigning president of your fan club. I’m pretty sure she has a Google Alert for whenever Societeur Magazine posts about you.”
“Oh, thanks,” he said, as though I’d just thrown a bucket of ice water on his head. “She’s not really my type though.”
“What?” I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “She’s cool.”
“I’m sure she is,” he agreed.
“Then what’s the problem?” I asked.
He tapped a pen on his thigh. “If someone is interested in me based on what social media posts and cheap articles have to say, then they’re not really into me .”
I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “You seem pretty sure about that.”
He hummed his agreement. “I know it makes me sound like a dick, but it’s based on experience.”
“So, you won’t date anyone unless they know nothing about you beforehand?” I asked, trying not to examine why I cared so much.
He pressed his lips together. “Despite what Societeur Magazine thinks, I don’t really ‘date’ anyone anymore. Casual sex is a lot simpler.”
My lips curved into a sly smile. “Well, then you really are the perfect face of Ignite.”
We locked eyes again, a silent challenge in them.
The question leaves my mouth like a bullet. “So, what is your type? For casual sex, I mean.”
His eyes moved over me. A quick dart to the left, then the right, as if he was taking a quick mental snapshot of my face. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth and a swooping sensation fluttered through me, warming my core and staining my cheeks.
“Oh. I didn’t mean me. I have a boyfriend,” I blurted. “Partner. Person. William.”
My cheeks flushed hotter as I tried to avoid physically cringing in front of him.
He smirked, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. “Don’t worry. I know.”
My shoulders relaxed. I wondered how he knew, but before the question could fully form in my mind he continued.
“People who read Societeur and their idiotic posts aren’t the only ones who know how to online stalk, you know.”
Another pause, this one more weighty than the last. I was on the verge of asking an embarrassing follow-up question when he pulled his phone out. “Are you hungry? I could kill for some dumplings right now.”
We lingered in the Fate office for two more hours, picking at cold dim sum and talking about how Eric’s first few weeks had been going. I gave him the rundown of all the best people to know at Catch Group, (Yemi ranking number one, obviously) who to avoid (Jeffrey, the Product developer, but Eric had already picked up on that one) and showed him a few other ways of finding good marketing data on the internal software. We eventually dragged ourselves away from our seats at 11 p.m., and I realized on the way home that this was the only late night at work I’d ever enjoyed.