I succeed in the no-touching-myself department, but fail miserably in getting my beauty sleep. It isn't even nine when I arrive at work the next day, Tuesday, and I'm already exhausted, looking like a zombie. I have absolutely no idea how I'll keep my word to Kate and unpack my boxes today. Knowing myself, I'll get home, sign the lease, and fall face-first on my couch, eager to get some much-needed sleep.
On my way to the Troll's Lair, I stop by the break room to pour myself a coffee, which speaks volumes about my tired state. A fresh batch of magic bean juice is in the pot, and I pour some of it in a mug I picked from the cupboard. Since I loathe the taste, I add several spoonfuls of sugar. I'm on my fifth when a voice behind me startles me.
"Would you like some more coffee with that sugar?" It's Oliver, looking at me with a teasing smile. Now that I have slept on it, he's rather attractive. Not in the classical way, but there's something kind about him that's very reassuring and enticing.
I grimace, scrunching my nose. "Don't tell anyone, but I really don't like the taste of coffee," I confess.
"My lips are sealed." I can't help but smile when he mimics the gesture. "It seems we had the same idea," he adds, lifting his own empty mug in front of him. His cup is in the shape of Darth Vader's helmet. The detail makes my appreciation of him even greater.
"Don't take it the wrong way, but you look a bit...tired," he cautiously says. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I was just too excited to sleep last night." Well, that isn't a lie.
"I get that," he says with compassion. "When I started here, it felt surreal."
"How long have you been here?"
"Almost since the beginning, seven years ago. We were eight in total, including Steven, Kev, and Lex."
"Kev?"
"Kevin Langley, the co-owner. He and Lex are childhood friends. Kev is the face of the company, the social one, and Lex is the engineer, the brain behind it all."
"Ke-Lex," I say, understanding where the company's name comes from.
"Yup." Oliver glances at the sugar that I'm still holding. "I don't know if you intend to finish it, but may I have a spoonful?"
I smile at his teasing. There is at least a pound of sugar in there. Of course I'm not going to finish it. I pour him a dose, and before he can react, I add a second one.
"Oh no, you lunatic!" he protests with a laugh, covering his mug with his hand. "I will know who to blame when my arteries clog up."
We both chuckle at his antics before heading to the Lair. Everyone is already here, and Brian looks up to give us a suspicious look. "Why are you two arriving at the same time?" he inquisitively asks.
I turn and look at Oliver, whose eyes are throwing daggers at our coworker. With a broad smile, I tell Brian, "I slept at his place. Best night of my life. Nothing will ever be the same," I pretend, signing for Joseph. This isn't even me trying to sound convincing, but Brian's jaw falls open.
"We met in the break room, you moron," Oliver explains, slightly blushing. Brian lets out a disappointed sigh and returns his attention to his screen.
As my computer is booting, I take a sip of my coffee, inevitably grimacing at the awful taste. It's such a burden to have the taste buds of a five-year-old. My eyes cross Oliver's, who witnessed my disgust, and he gives me a falsely judging head shake. I shrug and take another sip, not breaking eye contact. I try my best not to show my revulsion but fail, making him laugh softly.
The morning goes smoothly as I work on more tasks Mason and Joseph give me, and before I know it, the lunch break arrives. This time, I decline their offer to play, thinking this is a good opportunity to meet new people.
From the sandwich machine, I buy the most appetizing one, ham and cheese, before looking around to find familiar faces. I quickly spot Tamika, thanks to her lush natural hair, and go to her. She's sitting with Dakota and two other people I don't know yet, a man and a woman.
"Hi! May I sit?" I ask, signing.
Tammy and Dakota nod with a friendly smile, and I sit in the empty chair. I turn to the ones I don't know, extending my hand. "I'm Andy, the new developer."
The man shakes it first, leaning forward from the wheelchair he's sitting in. He's in his mid-thirties and is wearing a Seattle SuperSonics' cap. "Hi, I'm Jay. I work with Dak on the graphic design team."
I then turn to the woman who has pink hair, plenty of ear piercings, and a tattoo creeping up her throat. "Hi, I'm Katelyn, Kat. I'm from R&D, with Tammy." We shake hands as well before I sit back in my chair, opening my sandwich. Now that I'm surrounded by their home-cooked meals, it's much less appealing, so the bite I take is reluctant.
They are talking about one of Kelex's latest projects, a tool designed for quadriplegics with full paralysis. The app is meant to follow the movements of the eyes to allow the user to operate the device. Since it is the one I'm working on with Mason and Joseph, I'm able to participate and add to the conversation. For the most part, it's working, but there are still some issues with the gaze tracking. It isn't accurate enough to use the keyboard, and the company is hellbent on making the experience as comfortable as possible for the users.
Once done with my sandwich, I rest my chin in the crook of my palm, my elbow on the table. My short night becomes a very oppressing reality, and I feel myself dozing off.
"Hi, boss," Jay suddenly says, shaking me out of my tired state. I straighten up, gathering that the boss is standing behind me, given where they are all looking. Please, tell me I'm about to meet Kevin...
The low voice that comes from behind me is, alas, all too familiar. True to himself, he doesn't greet anyone, and goes straight to business. "Katelyn, I'll need to get that report New York sent you yesterday. Dakota, Kevin wants to see you this afternoon. Andrea," he starts, and I hold my breath, anxious even though I haven't done anything wrong. "I can't control your life outside of this office, but when you come in, you ought to be well-rested and efficient. We don't pay you to nap."
Outrage fills me as I turn around to face him. My ire is quickly replaced by embarrassment, though, as I see his face and think of how I imagined it between my legs, licking my clit.
My voice isn't as strong as I wish when I speak. "You aren't paying me at all right now, since it's my lunch break. So, if I want to spend it napping, I will," I declare in a matter-of-fact tone.
While he processes my words, I take in the sight of him. His navy blue T-shirt is tighter than the one yesterday, and the shade highlights his tan. The stubble is still here, and his hair is still a little messy. He isn't wearing his glasses, and I can totally see him rip out his shirt in the middle and have that red and yellow 'S' plastered on his chest.
No! I scold myself internally. He's Lex Luthor, not Superman. Bad! Bad person!
That face, which I so clearly pictured shoved between my legs yesterday, his imaginary tongue pleasuring me, is as stoic as ever, except for that raised eyebrow. My insides turn to jelly under his intense stare. It's wicked to want him that much.
Apparently I'm not worth debating with, because he closes the argument with, "I better not catch you dozing off during work hours, then."
With that, he leaves us back to our break. When I turn back to the table, they are all watching me with wide eyes. "What?" I wonder, suddenly worried.
"Andy, do you have a death wish?" Dakota asks.
"I--No. Why?"
"I don't think I have ever seen someone talk to Lex like that and get off so easily."
"I was rude?"
"Eh... Not really. Just know that he can be very strict, and doesn't like people talking back. Since he's right ninety-nine percent of the time, I can totally get why. Being second-guessed by your employees when you know you're right must be a pain in the ass."
"I'm so sorry... I didn't realize my attitude was problematic."
"It's okay, Andy," Tammy reassures me. "Just be careful. You don't want to poke the bear. Alexander Coleman has a limited stock of patience, and you don't want to see what happens when he runs out of it."
Jay nods. "Last time it happened, the walls trembled."
"What happened?" I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.
Kat is the one who fills me in. "Someone leaked essential pieces of information before a patent was fully negotiated. The company probably lost a few millions because of it."
Well, that seems like a good reason to get mad. I'd get mad for a thousand dollars. And growing up with two Mexican women, I know how to yell at people--with the chancla and everything.
All things considered, I'd yell for a hundred dollars.
I stay with them a little longer, pondering on my actions and how to fix the broken relationship I have with my boss. I want this job to work out, so I need to make concessions.
The afternoon goes by as fast as the morning, and we end up focusing on the app we're struggling with. Joseph, Mason, and I talk about the new approach, and Oliver joins us, as the delicate matter requires several brains to work through.
By the time we're done with our brainstorming, it's five thirty. Time to leave. I explain I have to meet my landlady and rush out of the Lair. I'm getting out of the building when I hear Oliver's voice to my right. "You sure can walk fast with those short legs," he says with a smile.
Okay, it doesn't matter how dense I can be about those things, it's clear this man likes me.
A grin lingers on my lips from his teasing, as I keep walking toward the bus stop, secretly happy to not be alone. "You didn't have to accompany me, you know."
"And miss our daily existential conversations? Never, Miss Walker!"
I smile, touched. "What is your surname, by the way?"
"Twist."
"Ha-ah, good one," I answer without missing a beat. I'm not falling for it.
"What?"
"Your name most certainly isn't Oliver Twist."
"Is there something I should know about my name?"
I stop in my tracks to study him. For half a second, I almost believe him, but his seriousness wavers. "You're an idiot," I say, resuming my walk.
"I almost had you."
"You didn't."
"I did."
"Maybe for a hundredth of a second."
"Still counts."
There's something truly enticing about him, a comfortableness I appreciate greatly.
"Queen," he says after a moment.
"What?"
"My name is Queen." Oliver Queen? That one sounds very familiar too. Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow. With a fisted hand, I feebly hit his arm. "Ouch! Gentle there, Rocky." He rubs the spot I punched, very happy with his joke.
"Tell me your name, Oli. It's a question of honor now."
"May I offer an 'Oliver Branch' to appease your bruised ego?" he proposes. Once more, I try to hide my appreciation of his humor, but fail. "Or maybe I can invite you to 'Oliver Garden?'"
"You're the worst." My massive grin isn't fading, and it's clear he is, indeed, not the worst.
He comes up with a few more goofy names, and then we reach the crossing.
"You're going to make me work for your name, aren't you?"
"It's always been hard for me to share it."
"Really?" I reply, wondering what silly joke is coming my way next.
"Yeah. You know what? It'll probably be easier if I text it to you."
Oh, he's smooth... I hold my hand out for his phone, which he promptly gives me.
"You could have just asked for my number, you know?" I tell him as I type Andy w/ the good script as my name.
"Nah, this is really just for the sake of sharing my name. I'll delete your info as soon as we're done."
Okay, I really like him. He's funny, and most definitely charming.
I hand him back his phone, and he grins and shakes his head when he sees the name I set. We part ways with a wave, heading to our respective bus stops. When our gazes meet across the street, he does a double finger-gun, and the corniness of the gesture makes me giggle softly. I'm glad to see I'm not the only one still sporting it. Even from where I stand, I can tell he scolds himself for the gesture. But my bus arrives, so I don't have time to gesture the same thing back to reassure him.
⸻
This time around, Mrs. Godfrey manages to ruin my perfect day. The price she asks for the horrible apartment is outrageous, and not at all what we agreed on. As I argue with her about it, everything starts making sense. It's for a reason that she delayed the signing so much. She planned on me unpacking, and then feeling forced to sign regardless, since I'm already settled.
But the joke's on her: I'm an expert procrastinator, and moving out of this roach infested building will be a breeze since all my boxes are still packed. She doesn't like it so much when I agree to be out on Saturday, but I am not paying that much for a studio.
Even though I know I made the right decision, I feel terrible by the time I get back into my apartment. I hate the place, but I'm not so happy at the prospect of having to find a new apartment so quickly and spending my weekend moving there.
Four days into my new life, and I'm already homeless.
My phone buzzes and I welcome the distraction. A smile makes its way on my face when I see it's from Oliver. So, like I said, my name is a sensitive topic.
I can't tell if he's messing with me or if he really has a weird ass name. Possibly both.
Get on with it, Mr. Garden. I need to be cheered up.
What happened?
I'm getting evicted on Saturday.
What?!
The owner is a greedy asshole who tried to double the price.
Do you want me to come and beat the shit out of him?
What didn't feel possible five minutes ago happens, and I laugh. She's at least sixty years old.
I don't see a problem. Old people are just like us. They deserve the same treatment as anyone. And since I'm a feminist, I feel the same about women.
How progressive of you. But don't worry about it. Your full surname will suffice.
Alright, I see what you're doing. It will work this time, but you better remember that I'm merciless.
I'm sure you are. So?
It's Paulson. Oliver Paulson.
It's so far from what I imagined that I first think he's lying again. I quickly open Facebook and type his name there. There are many Oliver Paulsons out there, but he comes in third position, since we both follow Kelex and are in Seattle. He's right there, smiling widely while holding a black cat, easily recognizable with his red hair.
It's SUCH a normal name, I send him, still shocked.
I know, but... A few seconds pass, until he adds, My dad's name isn't Paul, so I think he's not my real dad.
It's such a stupid, terrible joke that I burst out laughing. Jail. Jail for you, Paulson. Right now!
We text for a while longer, about nothing and everything, like we seem to be great at. Then, I'm forced to say goodbye as I have to find a place to live if I don't want to spend my nights under a bridge.
From my couch-bed, I browse a few rental apps, looking for literally anything. I select a few, for which I'll send emails in the morning. It's past midnight when I go to sleep. That's when I realize the thought of my boss didn't occur to me all evening.
Good for me, I'm already getting over the man.