Except, I would just continue to pine for her from afar, which isn’t much different from what I’m doing now, but it would at least remove one variable.
Deciding to get my coffee while I’m already here so I don’t look like an idiot for just scanning the area and leaving, I walk over to the coffee station and nod politely to the cafeteria lady, who starts to giggle, exchanging a look with her colleague.
What did I do?
Is my hair out of place?
My ears turn hot, and I look away.
In school, the bullies were straightforward, their disdain clear and confrontational. Here, where intentions are cloaked in polite smiles and hushed giggles, it’s harder to navigate.
Being respectful to everybody is the right way to act, or at least that’s what Morgan always tells me. She knows I struggle with personal interactions.
She’s been there through it all. When our life fell apart, and our mom wouldn’t leave her room anymore because she was always depressed and crying, Morgan stepped in for me.
The blind leading the blind.
The fourteen-year-old girl with a big personality took care of the shy, gifted eight-year-old boy. Although, when we were younger, respect wasn’t her default setting.
I suppress a grin, remembering how her red hair was always a bit messy, how she once punched one of my bullies in the face, then casually stretched her shoulders and shook out her hand before taking mine and pulling me home while chatting about her day as if she hadn’t just floored a kid twice her size.
As I’m about to grab a mug, I notice that my shoelace has come loose. I bend down to retie it, and my pant leg hikes up, revealing my black socks adorned with fried eggs. They were the only ones left, and the sight reminds me that we absolutely must get our laundry to the cleaners. Of course, it was Misha’s turn to take it, and he didn’t.
Just as I’m about to stand, I hear a soft chuckle. I look up and find Amelia standing before me, a cute smile playing on her lips, making my heart race.
Fuck.
“Hello,” she says, her voice warm.
I stand up so quickly that a wave of dizziness washes over me. “H-hello,” I stammer, the words catching in my throat with nervousness. And, as if on cue, my ears heat once more.
Turning to get coffee from the station next to us, she asks, “So, breakfast food, huh?”
British indeed. Those four words provide all the data I need to know that her voiceismy favorite sound.
“They were a Christmas present from my sister,” I begin, aware of how silly it must sound. “I know they’re goofy—” I start rambling, my words tumbling out faster than I can think.
This is not fucking happening.
I finally manage to talk to her, and it’s about my fucking socks?
She cuts me off with another chuckle, pulling up her own pant leg to reveal yellow socks adorned with avocados. “I very much like silly socks.” She smiles, and it’s like a ray of sunshine piercing through my usual fog of anxiety.
My heart pounds in my ears as she looks back at the coffee machine, adding two sugars and some cream to her cup. I store that information away for later, a small detail that feels like a victory in getting to know her better.
I rack my brain for something else to say to keep the conversation going, but my mind is blank, overwhelmed by her presence and the brief interaction we’ve just had.
But soon, she’s done preparing her coffee and turns to give me one more of those disarming smiles. “I’m excited to beta your AI. I bet it’s amazing. Anything I’ll need to consider?”
Wait, what?
I stare at her, shocked, my body frozen as the silence stretches on. Amelia’s smile falters, and she becomes visibly uncomfortable,blushing the cutest blush.
My eyes are drawn to her hand as her fingers twitch at her side. “Okay… I’ll go back to work,” she whispers to break the silence, and then she walks away, leaving me standing there, absolutely flabbergasted.
Did she just sayshewill beta test our AI?
Grey
