Seven emails have gone out when I leave my apartment the morning after. And by the time I arrive at Kelex, I already have three replies telling me the time frame won't work for them. Even though it's possible, I can't see how I'll find a new place in three days.
I'm lost in my thoughts, on my way to the Troll's Lair, when a hand reaches for my arm. I jump a little, turning around to find a very serious-looking Oli. "Follow me," he says without another word.
Intrigued, I comply as he guides me to the stairs. "Where are you taking me?" I ask as we reach the upper floor.
"It's a surprise."
We walk up to a door, he knocks on it, and a feminine voice invites us in. We enter the office, which turns out to be Tamika and Kat's.
"Hey, guys," Kat greets. Tammy smiles with a hand wave.
"So," Oliver starts, visibly enthusiastic, signing for Tamika. "Yesterday, I tried my best to find a solution to help you out. I know Tammy's roommate recently moved out, so I texted her to see if she was still looking for a replacement. When I told her it was for you, she seemed okay with the idea, so you're here to discuss it with her."
My jaw drops with shock. He went through all this for me? "Oli, you--" Tongue-tied, I struggle to find the proper words.
"Calm down, Andy. All I did was send a text," he argues with amusement.
I turn to Tammy. "Would you seriously have me as a roommate?" I sign, my gestures lacking precision. I'm so relieved, my hands are trembling.
"We need to talk first, but I don't see why not."
For the following ten minutes, Tammy and I have a thorough conversation to make sure neither of us is making a mistake. Although beggars can't be choosers, so I'm in no matter what. She promises to send me a few pictures, gives me the address, tells me about the neighborhood... We agree to give it a trimester to try things out, and if it works out, then I can stay for good. After we exchange numbers, I leave the office, ecstatic.
Oliver's leaning against a wall, and when he notices I'm out, he puts his phone away.
"So?"
"Well, thanks to you, my ulcer will now slowly resorb."
"So it's good? She's taking you in?"
"Yes! We'll work out a few things until Saturday, but I have a roof for at least three months." I wriggle with excitement and happiness. "Seriously, Oli, you have no idea of how much you helped me. I don't know how to repay you."
"Don't worry, I just wanted to help a friend in need."
A friend. I'm Oli's friend. That feels great. Thanks to him, my first friend here, a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Since I don't know how else to express my elation, I get closer to wrap my arms around him. I hug him tightly, grateful for what he did. He freezes for a moment, not sure how to react, then his arms slowly close around my shoulders.
"Thank you, Oli. Really," I say, my voice half-muffled by his plaid shirt. He smells good, clean, and earthy--something comfortable and homely.
"To tell you the truth, it's purely selfish. Now, you'll have to take the same bus as I do, and I'll get more of those nerdy debates."
My chuckle is cut short when a door opens next to us. We separate instantly and turn to see who interrupted us.
Of course, it's him.
Alexander Coleman, in all his mightiness, stares at us with a judging glare, his eyebrow cocked up. Somehow, I feel ashamed he caught us like this, even though we did nothing wrong. The way our boss is disapprovingly looking at us makes me uncomfortable.
He's dashing, as usual, and I feel my skin warm up under his stare. How can this man reduce me to mush with his eyes alone? What kind of sorcery is this?
"Weren't you two supposed to be in front of your computers ten minutes ago?" Alexander asks.
"Yes, sorry. We came to see Tammy for a personal matter," Oli explains with diplomacy.
"Was the matter resolved?"
"Yes, it was."
"Then can you tell me why you two are frolicking around when you should be heading to your desks?"
My mouth drops open, all notions of arousal gone. What is this, Nazi Germany? Aren't we allowed to have personal lives, issues, and such?
"We weren't frolicking around," I begin. "Human warmth might be a mysterious notion to y--"
"We're heading back downstairs right now," Oli says hurriedly, cutting my rant short. With that, he grabs my arm, just over my elbow, and pulls me to the stairs.
As we walk, I look behind to send an enraged glare at the pompous idiot, earning myself a defying glower. Oli is the only reason why I don't say anything. "This man needs to chill the fuck out," I mumble once we're at the stairs.
"Seriously, Andy, let it go."
"I can't! He is so strict and frigid! How have you been tolerating him for seven years?"
"He isn't always like this. Lately, he has been worse. I think it has to do with the negotiations for the partnership."
"The partnership?"
"Kev and Lex have been meeting with smartphone manufacturers to design a new type of phone for our clients."
Oli tells me more about the negotiations, but no matter what, it doesn't give Alexander the right to lash out at his employees. At the same time, I want to trust Oliver's judgment, so if he thinks our boss is worth the effort, maybe I should listen.
When we enter the Lair, Brian gives us another one of his inquisitive looks. Before he can say a thing, Oliver cuts him short with a dry, "Shut up, Brian."
As I sit down, I receive a text. It's from an unknown number. As soon as I open it, I see it's Tamika, sending me details about the apartment, along with a few pictures.
It looks really nice. The living room is comfortably arranged, and it's separated from the kitchen by a counter at bar height. It's in an old building, and one of the walls is raw bricks. Two windows allow enough natural light in for the place to be well lit, and I feel great about that. In just four days in the studio, I already miss the sun, feeling like a goblin living underground.
I excitedly open the pictures of my bedroom she sent me, and the smile I have on widens. It's more than perfect. I'm about to send another grateful look at Oli when a familiar voice comes from behind me.
"You seem determined not to work today, Andrea."
Oh, great...
The tiny hairs on my neck rise, and goosebumps appear all over my arms. My name on his lips is something I can't get used to. I put my phone down instantly. When I twist in my chair, I see Alexander is right behind me, covering me with yet another disappointed look.
He's holding a laptop between his thumb and fingers, as if it's a weightless piece of cardboard and not a heavy Alienware of nearly twelve pounds. My eyes linger on the flexed muscles of his forearm, under a veil of thin dark hair. His hands are massive, the hard lines of the tendons and veins enhanced by the lighting of the room.
Does everything about him have to be so masculine?
I meet his eyes and see he's still waiting for my answer. I'm a rather serious person regarding working hours, but I admit today doesn't look good. I suspect that my very valid excuse won't fly with the intransigent boss. Only my untimely death would. Maybe. Possibly.
Taking Oliver's advice, I decide to act nice.
"I'm sorry. I'm done now, so I'll get on with it." My unusual docility confuses him for an instant, but he doesn't let it show much, checking his watch.
"You'll stay in for an extra twenty minutes to compensate for the time you lost this morning," he instructs. It's only fair, so I don't argue, which, once more, he isn't expecting.
The entire time he settles his laptop on his desk, I keep track of him in the corner of my eye. I'm about to focus back on work when he slips on his glasses. I bite my lip, turned on by the simple gesture.
Sometimes, a person's brilliance can be guessed by merely glimpsing at them. Alexander Coleman wears his intelligence very accurately. With one glimpse at him, it's abundantly clear that his mental skills are off the charts. Maybe it's the way he holds himself, the assurance he lets off, or the vivacity of his gray irises. When his glasses are added to the mix, it pushes that reality even further, bringing him closer to the evil genius he channels.
Yeah, I'm definitely growing sapiosexual.
Of course, I forget to pretend to be working, and straight-up gorge at the sight he offers. His lush lips are tempting despite the stiff line they form, and I wonder what it would feel like to have them against mine. Surely, they wouldn't remain so rigid.
"Earth to Andy," Mason calls next to me.
I spin around to face him, mortified he caught staring at our boss. Oh God, how long have I been out of it?
"Sorry, I got distracted," I apologize in a low voice.
"You and me both, sis," he says with a knowing smile, glancing at our very focused boss.
Ah, so Mason is gay. I try never to assume, but he does give off a vibe of fabulousness.
"Anyway," he continues. "Have you had the time to work on the script I gave you?"
"Yes! I need ten more minutes on it, and we're good."
Outside of my interactions with my boss, this job really is amazing. The morning goes by, and I head out to lunch knowing I've done a great job. Mason's impressed by how quickly I work, and so is Joseph. I hope they will voice it to our boss, so he'll cut me some slack.
Oli comes with me this time, and we share a table. When he sees the pitiful sandwich I bought for myself, he offers to share what he has. I try to refuse, but I haven't eaten anything that was actually cooked in over five days, and the thought of having even just a bite of his meal makes me salivate.
I fetch myself a plate and cutlery, and we share his fried rice, green beans, and roasted chicken legs. Ugh, he's a great cook, which I add to the mental list I have in his favor. The man's all assets and no flaws, it seems.
We're still eating when a familiar voice makes us turn around. It's Brian at the arcade machine, arguing with Steven. "Is that Donkey Kong?" I ask Oli.
"Yup, an original machine, from the 80s and all. It must have cost a fortune, but I bet it's worth even more now."
"What do you mean?"
He leans forward, coming closer to me as if he has a secret to share. "Do you know Nammota?"
Anyone who dabbles in coding knows Nammota. He's our modern-day Robin Hood, the hacker we all aspire to become. For his first hit, he exposed embezzlements in several Fortune 500 companies. Not only that, but he also redistributed most of that money to charities and people in need. The affair was shushed pretty hard by the rich people in charge, but the web knows. Nammota is a hero.
Or at least he was, until maybe four years ago, when his activities abruptly came to an end. A lot of people speculate he was arrested, or that he died. The one sure thing is that no one will ever know the identity of the legendary hacker now.
"Everyone knows Nammota," I tell Oli.
"Come see," he says with a mysterious grin, getting up from his chair. I follow him, and he takes us to the old Donkey Kong cabinet. Brian's playing again. "Brian, can you lose?"
"What? No way, man. I'm feeling it. This game will be a good one."
"I want to show the Nammota thing to Andy," Oliver insists.
Brian reluctantly complies, so Mario dies, the "Game Over" screen comes, and then I get it. My eyes widen when I see what Oliver meant. Right there, the three highest-ranking scores are 'NAM,' 'MOT,' and 'AAA,' forming an unmistakable NAMMOTAAA.
Without looking away from the game, I ask Oliver, "Is it legit?"
"We don't know, but we like to think it is," Oliver confirms, somewhat smug about it.
"So what? It's someone who works here, or did the machine arrive like this?"
"The scoreboard was blank when it was delivered, shortly after we moved into this building. But, I've never seen someone play with a score so high, so this happened after hours. Everyone gave their little theory."
"And who do you think it was?"
"Well, there are people in and out all the time, so it might not even be someone who worked here," Steven explains. "But we had another developer at that time, Greg, who fits the profile perfectly. He stopped working here not too long after the final input in the leaderboard. And he had a kid around the same time Nammota stopped being active."
"That's why we think it's him," Oliver says, nodding.
I stare at the high scores, my mind going in every direction. I'm almost star-struck. Could Nammota really have worked here? That's crazy. The man is a fucking legend, the NSA, FBI, IRS, Homeland... Everyone's looking for him.
"I think you broke her," Brian whispers.
"Come on, the food will be cold," Oliver insists.
That's enough for me to rip my eyes off the scoreboard and follow Oli back to our chairs. We eat the rest of our meal in silence, and the whole time, I'm ruminating slowly, still not over the fact that I'm--possibly--working in the same place as the legendary Nammota.
When we return to the office, Alexander is still working on his computer, with an empty take out box and a set of plastic cutlery in it. My attention is divided between Joseph and Mason all afternoon, and five-thirty arrives quickly. I watch as my colleagues leave. The last one's Oliver, who comes to me. "I would stay, but I have an appointment," he explains.
"Don't worry, I think I can find the bus stop without your wise guidance." He smiles, reminding me of how charming he is when that happens.
Once I'm alone with Alexander, I can't ignore his presence any longer. It feels as if the room is charged with electricity, and I'm very aware of him being right there.
The sooner I'm done, the better. Twenty minutes is nothing. Motivated, I adjust my headphones and switch to my motivational playlist. I open the tricky script Joseph gave me and enter some sort of trance. A movement to my right pulls me out of it at some point.
It's Alexander, standing right next to me with his arms crossed over his broad chest. One day, I'll break those glasses for my sanity. It's ridiculous how such a basic accessory can turn lethally appealing on him. I push my music away and look up at him.
"Your twenty minutes are over."
"Already?" The time on my screen confirms it. "Crap, I'm almost done. I hate leaving something halfway. It takes forever to get back into it."
"I know the feeling." I send him a dubious glance, not sure he ever struggles with anything--or even has feelings.
"What do you have left to do?"
"It doesn't work, but I can't find why. I'm doing the final sweep now."
The last thing I expect him to do is to roll Joseph's chair next to me before sitting down on it. I stare at him, hesitating as to what to say, but he gives me one of his challenging glares. "What? Four eyes are better than two, no?"
"I think you mean six eyes," I mumble, turning back to my screen. For some reason, my terrible filters become nonexistent when he's around. To my relief, he grins subtly, not as susceptible as one might imagine. Me. I would have imagined that.
Slowly enough so we can read it, I scroll down the script. It is strange how Oliver's presence makes me feel calm and comfortable, but I'm tense and jumpy with Alexander. Once more, the physical reaction I have for the man frustrates me. Up to this point, I never felt that sort of undesired and unrequited attraction to anyone. Wanting someone I don't actually want is exhausting.
About two-thirds into the script, we jolt in our chairs at the same time, having found the issue. Surprised that we reacted in unison, we briefly side-eye one another. With the keyboard in front of me, I start the corrections.
"I like your work," he says when I'm done, removing his glasses. "It's clear, concise, and you comment on everything, so it's easy to follow your chain of thoughts."
It sounds an awful lot like a compliment, and I don't think the man usually does those. A slight blush warms my cheeks, and I wonder if I don't prefer it when he's being an ass. I nod, hoping it will suffice as an answer.
"Time to head home, Andrea."
"Sorry for this morning," I say as I turn off my computer. Once the cooling fans stop spinning, I become keenly aware of the silence surrounding us. "I'm not usually this scattered. I promise it won't happen again."
He's back on his computer, and all he does to acknowledge my words is lift his hand, not looking away from his laptop.
Not wanting to linger, I grab my things and head to the door. "See you tomorrow," I say, fleeing into the nearly empty office space.
That was...weird.