I glance between the two of them. “I can totally tell you the whole story… but maybe after I’ve been here for more than three minutes,” I promise.
“That’s totally fair. Right?” Eleanor prompts Nicole, who nods with a kind of contrition that makes me feel a little better.
In the awkward lull that follows, I glance around, realizing that I expected Wesley to be back by now. How long does it take to put a cat in an office? And what happened to the other two? “Where are the guys?”
“Probably still in Wes’s office,” Eleanor replies, resuming her chopping task. “I’m sure they’re having a meeting.”
“A meeting? About what?”
Nicole slides her peel across the counter, and wordlessly, Eleanor sweeps it into the trash can at her side. It’s coordinated, but unspoken—a dance of familiarity—and it makes me feel out of place and oddly jealous of their easy companionship. “You. Your situation.”
I frown. Eleanor is still absorbed in cooking, and Nicole has started eating her peeled fruit. Neither seems particularly bothered or interested in what’s going on in the other room. “Are we… shouldn’t I… go in there?” I ask, starting to rise from my chair.
“Why would you?” Nicole asks.
“Because…” I’m so thrown off by the genuine confusion in her voice, I have to try twice to get the words out correctly. “You just said they’re talking about my situation.”
“Yeah. Because they’re going to handle it.”
“But… But it’sabout me.” I glance between the two of them and tap my clacky fingernails on the glass tabletop for emphasis. We’re clearly mis-communicating, here.
Eleanor and Nicole exchange a meaningful look that goes over my head. “You don’t have to worry,” Eleanor says, smiling brightly. “They’re pros. And you’re safe here.”
“I’m notworried,” I say slowly, trying to make sense of this. “I’m interested. I’m invested. This is about my life—why wouldn’t I want to be part of the discussion?”
Eleanor stops chopping and stares into the middle distance, like she’s trying to remember something fleeting. I seem to have stumped Nicole, too, because she’s frowning down at the counter. “I guess…” Eleanor starts, like she’s figuring out how to end that sentence as she speaks. She looks at Nicole, making me feel like this is perhaps a shared memory. “I didn’t know how to handle my life being in danger, but they did. So I let them.”
“Yeah, same,” Nicole agrees.
Ah, okay. I get it now. “Well, Idoknow how to handle my life being in danger,” I explain. “I’m not just, like, a chef or a nurse. I’m a hacker. I can help.”
Nicole’s mouth flattens into a line. “Down the hall. Last door on the left before the conservatory.”
I get up from my chair slowly, trying to gauge the faintly displeased look on her face. “Are you guys going to come with me?”
“No thanks. We’ll be in here, being unhelpful chefs and nurses.”
Fuck. I grimace and glance at Eleanor for support. “That’s not… you know that’s not how I meant it, right?”
Eleanor rolls her eyes so hard her irises disappear under her bangs for an instant. “She knows. Right, Nicole?” she asks pointedly. Nicole shrugs in a way that’s vaguely an agreement. “If you can help and you want to, youshouldgo. I bet Wesley will be chuffed. That’s British for excited,” she adds sagely.
I’m locked in indecision—clearly I made a misstep, and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how. I feel like Nicole doesn’t like me for some reason, and it seems to run deeper than a few bad jokes. I just don’t know why—after all, Ijustgot here. Usually, it takes people a whole interaction before they decide they don’t like me. And she doesn’t even know about my preexisting relationship with the man who helped kidnap her…
I probably should ask Wesley how to handle that grenade.
Which, honestly, is fine. People don’t like me. I get it. And normally, I’d sayscrew itand let it roll off my back. But she’s Wesley’s friend. I want to make a good impression. I was kind of… excited at the thought of them being my friends, too. And if we’re all going to be living together until someone’s not trying to kill me anymore, I’d like to get along.
So I’m trying, damnit.
“Hey, I’m not sure what I said or did—if I did say or do something—but I’m grateful to have a safe place to stay, and that you looked at my cut and that you’re making me dinner,” I say, nodding at Nicole and Eleanor in turn. “I’m sorry I flirted with Mac a million years ago... and for the inappropriate joke about Dimitri’s dick. But I make inappropriate jokes when I’m nervous—it’s kind of my thing—andhisthing looks like it could level a small town. Congratulations, and you terrify me.” I nod at Nicole.
Eleanor laughs. Gratifyingly, there’s a small twitch to Nicole’s lips that gives me hope before they settle back down into a flat line.
“Madison, it’s okay. We’re cool,” Eleanor says. “Now get out of here so we can talk about you.”
I’m so tempted to pause on the other side of the doorway to eavesdrop, but I doubt that would endear me to my newbesties, so I continue down the hallway.
I’m a little indignant and my ego is a tad bruised, but I can sort of see things from Nicole’s perspective (even though it’s waaaaay up there). A new person always changes the dynamic—I guess it’s not that surprising that at least one person would be resistant to it. I bet she’s an earth sign. Virgo, if I had to guess.
