Page 24 of Debugging Love

Where will Chance sit? What project will he work on? Will he ever be in my general vicinity, and if so, should I file a restraining order? These are questions I want to ask. I stay quiet.

It’s time to go around the room and introduce ourselves.

“I’m Juanita.”

“Bruce.”

“Reese.”

“Abeer Karnik.”

“Da—“ I choke on phlegm. Chance narrows his eyes at me. “Danni,” I manage, after clearing my throat.

I bug my eyes at Morgan even though she has no idea Chance istheguy. The conceited, insensitive, arrogant, muscularguy.

Morgan looks at me funny.

Oh. She’s going to know. She and Kayla are about to get an earful as soon as this meeting is over.

Christopher rattles on for a few more minutes about our workload, customer expectations, deadlines. When he dismisses us, Drew jumps from his chair and runs through the open doorway. Maybe he has to pee. I don’t know. I don’t want to know.

As I stand to leave, Christopher says, “Chance and Heng, hang around for a bit. I need to go through some onboarding.”

Chance pushes himself away from the table and steps back, arms folded, leaving me two options. Swing behind Christopher (the long way) or cross in front of Chance. If I cross behind Christopher, I’m admitting defeat. If I cross in front of Chance, I have tocross in front of Chance.

I’m no chicken. And he’snotin control. I press my lips into a line and barge to the foot of the table, eyes locked onto Chance’s.As I pass, he doesn’t budge, but his head cocks to one side, his eyes boring into mine, like heknows. Of course he knows. I’ve never painted houses. I’m not a general contractor. I lied. Sue me. At least I didn’t upload a fake photo to MatchAI and try to catfish blonde chicks.

I stomp over to Morgan who has already settled into her low-rider ergo chair. She looks up at me and her eyes round.

“What?!” she exclaims.

“Kayla.” I summon her with my pointer finger. “Meeting. Now!”

She scrambles out of her chair and meets Morgan and me at the end of the cubicles. “What happened?” she asks.

“Private meeting in the storage room,” I say.

The storage room is behind my desk. Its footprint along with the breakroom’s creates my private little nook, necessitating my odd bank of desks.

Morgan opens the storage room door and lets out an adrenaline-inducing scream followed by, “What are you doing in there?”

“I am changing,” I hear Drew say. He doesn’t sound at all fussed.

“Why don’t you do that in the men’s bathroom?” Morgan’s voice has surpassed shrill. Soon only dogs will be able to hear her.

“I change in here every day before my bike ride. It is supposed to be private.”

I hear him shuffle to the door. It closes with a loud thud, making us all jump.

Itissupposed to be private. The private go-to place where people make phone calls and have conversations they don’t want the rest of the office to hear. But it’s not achangingroom.

Morgan’s mouth is hanging open and her complexion is stark white. I grab her arm and pull her toward the double doors. Kayla follows, chuckling.

We bypass the main elevators and duck into the emergency stairs. They’re private enough.

“I saw his...” Morgan says.

“Oh geez,” Kayla groans. “I don’t want to know.”

---