Page 135 of Debugging Love

“Who’s Zane?” I say to her back. Don’t think I didn’t notice when she name-dropped him last night. An old boyfriend, I assume. One she can no longer stand. And she thinks I’m just like him.

She pauses and anchors her hands on her head. I approach her cautiously.

“I thought he was the one. The moment I saw him, I was sure.”

I risk rounding her elbow. She allows me access to her face.

“It was just physical attraction. That’s all that held us together. But I trusted that stupid voice in my head that told me we were going to get married someday, buy a house, have a family.”

“What did he do to you?”

“He rewrote my code, but that was the least of it. He was manipulative, rude, controlling, arrogant, condescending. And because we were both IT contractors in the same city, I kept running into him. He was like a bad dream that wouldn’t end.”

Each word hammers against my chest. I step back. “And you think I’m like him?”

Her breathing speeds up, each exhale superheated, like a dragon’s but without the flames. She doesn’t answer. Instead, she takes off in a full sprint, leaving me in the dust.

I don’t have the energy to follow her. Even if I did, she obviously doesn’t want me to. So, I bend over, rub the sweat from my face, and rethink every minute of the last three weeks of my life.

Danni

As the water pours down my body, erasing the sweat from this morning’s run, Chance’s sad puppy face haunts me, even when my eyes are squeezed shut. His last question rings in my ears.

And you think I’m like him?

When we first met, yes. He seemed arrogant. Overly confident. Self-assured. The antithesis of what I want in a guy.

I want someone who is thoughtful enough to fix me dinner and help around the house, someone who believes in me enough to support my dreams. A sensitive yet confident man who isn’t afraid to show his softer side. A guy with layers begging to be peeled back, who surprises me with his thoughtfulness and humor.

I groan. This warrants a shower-bath. I let the hot droplets rain down, plug the drain, and sit, stretching out as far as I can in the standard issue tub. As the droplets pelt my legs, slowly multiply to cover them, and then drum like raindrops on a pond, I remember Chance’s kisses, how they’re as warm and soothing as this bathwater at times. Other times as hot as solar wind.

Chance can be frustrating, yeah. Oh so frustrating, but Zane lived to one-up me. Anything I said, he said something smarter. Anything I did, he could outdo me multiplied by ten. Zane never let me shine because it would take away from his perceived brilliance.

That night in Cassie and Luke’s pool, when Chance and I raced and he let me win, and we were both out of breath, water trickling down our flushed cheeks and into our mouths as we kissed. It was his first kiss. Ever.

I relive the moment a dozen times, my eyes closed to recapture every detail down to the sound of his breath as we stared at each other in stunned silence.

When my fingers look like Sunsweet prunes, I flip off the shower, unplug the drain, towel off in front of the steamy mirror. No matter what I decide–to forgive Chance or not–I have to go over there. I left my laptop on his dining table.

My cheeks ruddy from the hot shower, my bathroom more humid than a muggy Charleston morning, I opt for a tank topand joggers. Unicorn slippers engaged, I walk over to Chance’s apartment and knock on the door.

He greets me with his head hung low. The sight of him reignites my raw anger and indignation. The nerve of him to ignore my design document. As team lead, I made my expectations very clear. But Chance lives in a world of his own.

I hesitate at the threshold, not wanting to re-enter that world. My feet don’t care what I think. They march me into the middle of his living room. I cross my arms and swipe my eyes up and down Chance’s tall body.

“You gonna work here today?” he asks tentatively. He’s less confident than I’ve ever seen him, his shoulders stooped, his fingers barely in his pockets, making his wrists bend at sharp angles.

“I’m stealing your Wi-Fi.”

I grab my computer and my backpack and march out of his apartment before he can stop me.

I said I’d never entertain another office romance. This is exactly why. Work needs to stay at work. No mingling of the two. I need to be able to leave the office and forget the office. I don’t want it trailing after me saying, “Hey, wait up!”

What was he thinking? He knows he hurt my feelings when he butchered my R&D app. Why do guys have to be so hardheaded?

Code mavericks.

Code mavericks are hardheaded. They’re all the same.

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