The computer is on, so Mason tells me where to find the file. As it opens, a movement to my right catches my attention. It’s the boss, rolling a chair next to mine before sitting on it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, sounding more aggressive than I meant to.
“I’m curious to see you in action.”
What kind of fresh hell is this?“I’m more efficient when no one’s breathing down my neck.”
Not minding my reticence, he reaches for the glasses tucked in his collar. “Tough luck.”
There are no words to describe how much I hate this. I’m very aware of his presence, and I can’t imagine my mind not drifting back to it every second. How on earth am I supposed to focus on my task? I turn to him, ready to negotiate some space, but something stops me.
Gray.
His irises are an icy, colorless shade that steals the words from my mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes so striking.
“What are you staring at? Get on with it,” he says, pointing at the screen. “You have ninety minutes, starting now.”
I have an acerbic remark ready to go, but he puts his glasses on, and my brain forgets how to compute.Oh, fuck me…He went from Kal-El to Clark Kent real fast, and I can’t decide which version I prefer. The sporty, confident hunk or the nerdy, brainy one?
My body couldn’t care less about the fact that he is an ass because I feel the urge to press my knees together. From this close, I can smell the fresh scent of his soap, the spicy aroma of his deodorant, and even feel the heat emanating from his large body.
Since it’s the only way I can focus in these conditions, I ask permission to put my headphones on. He agrees, but when it takes me forever to pick the right playlist, something good enough to distract me from his proximity, he lets out an annoyed sigh. “You’re wasting time, Andrea. Eighty-seven minutes.”
“I’ll only need sixty.”
The jab is more of a grumble to myself, but his answer comes anyway. “Let’s go for sixty minutes, then.”
At that moment, I swear to myself I’ll cut off my tongue if I survive the day.
But it’s on. I am now an emissary forallwomen. This arrogant and misogynistic ass needs to be taught that we are as good and as worthy as men.
Time is the one thing that comes with limitations for all of us. Some get a hundred years’ worth of it, some barely an hour, but the finality of it is true for everyone. Aside from maintaining a healthy lifestyle, one cannot do much to earn themselves more of it, and even then, nothing is ever certain. That is why time is one of the things I value most in life.
And this whole hiring process seems to have been a massive waste of it.
All the hours I poured into preparing the test, selecting applicants, reading through their résumés… If my suspicions are correct, they’ve all been for nothing, and I’ll have to do it all over again.
The test I designed wasn’t meant to be passed but to evaluate the applicant’s resilience. So, when “Andy” Walker’s score turned out nearly perfect, I struggled to believe it. The cover letter that came with the application piqued my interest, mentioning a deaf older brother and a genuine desire to work with us because of it. But the LinkedIn profile was incomplete, with no picture and nothing past three years at a shitty cybersecurity company in Portland. With a score like that, though, I decided to go for it, thinking I found a gemstone among the masses, someone whose programming skills might be equal to mine.
But in came a petite brunette who looks fresh out of college. And she has an attitude, which I don’t appreciate—especially not from a new hire whom I believe lied to get here. She has sixty minutes to prove me wrong, but with the way she keeps stalling, I think I already got my answer.
How disappointing …
While I rationally couldn’t believe she was the same Andy who passed my test, a small part of me hoped she would be. I’ll have to find someone else if I fire her, and I don’t look forward to that.
Finally, she settles on what she wants to listen to, and indiscernible noises seep from her headphones. What the hell is that? Metal? She seems undisturbed by it as she leans in and gets to work. She focuses on the screen, hands hovering over the keyboard, and I come closer as well, eager to get my answer.
I discreetly observe her while she quickly scrolls down the script to familiarize herself with it. I’m seeking a crack, something that’ll unveil the subterfuge. But before it comes, she begins typing, so my focus shifts to the screen instead.
Forty-seven seconds. That’s all it takes for me to realize I was wrong. She won’t need the rest of her sixty minutes because she proves herself in less than one. She’s organized, meticulous, and very competent. The messy script is barely understandable at points, but it doesn’t stop her as she makes her way through it. I meant to address this issue because the team has been stuck on it for too long. But by minute three, I already know I won’t need to bother. Her sharp mind is quick to find errors and even quicker to fix them.
I try to remain focused on the screen, observing what she changes, removes, or rearranges, but I soon find myself drawn elsewhere. Down to her slim fingers and the way they move over the keyboard with dexterity, typing fast and flawlessly. Or how her short brown curls bounce as she bobs her head up and down in rhythm with her music. A verse sometimes slips past her mouth, barely a whisper, which also becomes distracting. Especially since it draws my eyes to her lips, which are plump, pink, and deprived of makeup.
While she loses herself in the script, I peer at her, rediscovering her in an entirely new light. Now that I know she didn’t lie, the wall I mentally built between us is gone, and I canseethe woman next to me.
I barely glimpsed at her back in the elevator, but enough to notice her almond eyes and the thick fringe of lashes surrounding them. And the way her slightly upturned nose is dusted with freckles, which spill onto her cheekbones. But as I look at her arms, I don’t find more of those brown specks. I’m unsure what to make of the intrusive thought that makes me want to pull on her collar and see if there are any on her shoulders.
Why am I somehow even more intrigued by her now? Is it the relentless pride and assurance lying underneath her stubbornness? Is it because there’s no way someone this young should be this skilled? Unless she’s nearly as smart as I am, which is a very rare thing. Maybe I’ve found my match, and that’s why I’m so confusingly interested in her.
