Page 27 of Debugging Love

They know about my tendency to throw up in the presence of gross bugs. It happened at their apartment when I saw a silverfish crawl out of the tub drain. So gross.

Morgan rests her hands on her knees. “So. What have we concluded here?”

“Nothing,” I say glumly.

“A: Maybe Chance isn’t as bad as you think he is,” Morgan continues despite me, “and B: You’re stuck working with him so you may as well try to get along.”

I gape at her. “We concluded that?”

Morgan nods. I look at Kayla for backup.

“She’s right,” Kayla says. She sucks in a deep breath and holds it.

“I could quit.”

“You are not quitting over some jerkwad,” Morgan says.

“You just said he might not be as bad as I think he is.”

She leans toward me. “If I’m wrong, do you want him to win?”

Her comment ignites something in my chest, stirs the young embers, causes sparks to fly out my ears. She’s right. JetAero ismine. My best friends are here. I have a great boss. As grumpyas my teammates are, they’re fun to work with. Maybebecausethey’re grumpy.

Point being, I’ve established myself here. I’ve developed the best friendships of my life. I’m not going to let Chance ruin it. He’s a contractor anyway. They come and go. “Okay, fine.”

Morgan dips her head to meet my eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’ll be fine. I’ll ignore him. He’ll ignore me. Life at JetAero will go on.”

Kayla forcefully blows out her breath. And then hiccups. “Do you guys think you could hold me upside down for a few minutes?”

“No,” Morgan and I say in unison.

Chapter 7

Chance

I already know I like my new boss. He’s got muscles, but not height, making him confident but not cocky. He’s also casually dressed, which sets a good tone for the office. The vibe here is jeans and short-sleeved button-up shirts. Christopher takes it to the next level by ironing his jeans, evidenced by the line running down each pant leg. His shirt looks like it’s been run under a hot asphalt roller, minus the tar and rocks. I’m not going to judge. Some people are particular. It probably makes him good at his job.

After the onboarding is complete, Christopher walks me to my desk. Heng gets a cubical—if you want to call it that. I get a desk in a forgotten corner that’s surrounded by flimsy lime green dividers that aren’t high enough to block a sneeze, let alone provide any privacy.

PanTech didn’t warn me that I was walking into an open-concept office. I like the feel of the place. The white ductwork and pipes add an industrial vibe. The polished floors and thelime green accents against gray furniture are a nice touch. Glass walls everywhere. I can get used to it.

But I have a clear view of everyone, and they have a clear view of me. How will I surf the net and check my socials during the famine phase of the software development feast-famine cycle? Especially with my back to the walkway where people come and go.

And then there’s the other surprise. The dark-haired, dark-eyed annoyance named Danni. She’s wearing high-waisted jeans with a short-sleeved mint blouse covered in white flowers. Not the hardhat, flannel, and steel-toed boots she should be wearing as a general contractor. This office space is fully renovated. No construction workers are pounding on walls or running electrical conduit. She lied. And she was mad atmefor using an avatar.

I scan the room for her silky, shoulder-length hair but come up short. Then it hits me. It’s like reality is skipping. Danni. Danni. Danni. That’s all I see.

Danni on the Carolina Excursion. Danni at my apartment. Danni at myconsultinggig. And now, Danni sitting right beside me.

I push my chair back and lean over to inspect my neighbor’s desk. Sure enough, her purse is sitting next to the monitors—the fringy one she carried on our date.

My mom’s voice booms through my auditory cortex. (Amazing how phantom voices from the past can do that.)There is no such thing as chance. The universe has a way of getting what it wants.

I press my palms to my forehead. Is the universe some shriveled old guy in front of a switchboard moving wires from one jack to the other? Or are we living in a virtual reality and the universe is some kid with a Nintendo Switch, playing fast and loose with our lives?

Neither seems reasonable. The idea of an inanimate universe making chess moves doesn’t jive with my definition of reality. I’ve never seen a rock roll over onto its back for pets. Except for that movieFrozen, when the rocks tumbled over to Anna and Kristoff and turned into little pebble people. Or maybe they were gnomes. Or dwarves or something.

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