How would they have followed anything from me?
They didn’t even know me a week ago. Okay,maybeOliver did since we had some coffee run-ins. But I doubt they even knew my name before I was asked to beta.
They’re just trying to be nice, Amelia.
Making small talk. That’s what people do.
They just want to talk about the AI. No need to make this hard for all of us.
I relax my arms, letting them fall to my sides, trying to physically release the tension.
“Thanks,” I manage, mustering a polite smile. The moment hangs between us, and I take a deep breath, releasing it slowly to center myself. “So, uh… I suppose you’re curious about how the beta testing is going?” I venture, steering the conversation toward neutral ground, eager to escape the initial awkwardness.
Oliver and Misha share a glance before Misha responds, “Yeah, sure, how’s it going?”
“What you’ve created is gravely impressive. But you probably don’t need me to tell you that.” My hands twist together nervously. Hoping to postpone this debriefing to a written form,I add, “I’ll compile what I found in a report. You’ll have it in your inbox tomorrow morning.”
I’m ready to excuse myself and get back on the treadmill when Misha reaches out, his hand grabbing mine. “Wait.” I look down at his hand holding mine, then frown at him. He releases his grip, chuckling awkwardly. “Sorry, I forgot we haven’t really met. It just feels like we know each other.”
“We don’t. We’ve only talked once on the phone.” Irritation flares within me again because I just know he doesn’t remember.
And since when does this bother me?
Misha looks at me with wide eyes, wordlessly confirming my suspicion.
I find myself stealing a glance at Oliver, who is shaking his head.
At me?
Am I being difficult?
Misha groans. “I can’t seem to stop putting my foot in my mouth. Okay, so I guess Dr. Langley didn’t give you a proper introduction to the beta testing?”
I hesitate, not wanting to throw my boss under the bus despite my feelings toward him. This would be more than unprofessional,which I’m not.So I simply shake my head in response.
Misha cringes. “Sorry about that. If we’d known you were handling the beta, we would’ve briefed you ourselves. But since that didn’t happen, let me clarify now. What we need from you isn’t a report, so you can save yourself that effort.”
“It’s not?” My voice falters slightly.
“No, we’d rather have a direct discussion tomorrow about your first impressions of the experience,” Misha explains, seemingly oblivious to the sharp looks Oliver is casting from the side.
A meeting?
The thought alone sends a ripple of anxiety through me. And it’s solely because of them. I never had problems going to any other business-related meetings.
But this somehow feels personal.
“Wouldn’t make much sense to write a clinical report for such a non-clinical matter, right?” Misha voices my thoughts, and a grin spreads across his face once more, but my stomach tightens in response.
I think I’m going to puke.
“S-sure,” I manage to stutter out.
“Perfect, can we meet in our office? Or would you prefer yours or a conference room?” Misha continues as if discussing the weather rather than something that’s causing my heart to race.
“Your office is fine,” I respond quickly, too quickly, perhaps. The thought of being enclosed in a small room with all three of them while I’m expected to articulate my thoughts is daunting.
At least if it’s their office, I can flee when we’re done and hide in mine.
