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 clackingand 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 butmuchmore 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 wheneverSocieteur Magazineposts 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 intome.”
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 knownothingabout you beforehand?” I asked, trying not to examine why I cared so much.
