Page 54 of Debugging Love

I straighten to make sure Chance can see my look of disapproval. “I think you’re addicted to gum.”

He looks at me, chomps down a few times, blows a bubble, and then snaps his gum between his front teeth. Then, with his eyes still dead-focused on mine, he drags his trashcan from under the desk and slides his hand along the desktop. I hear the pitter-patter of gum wrappers as they rain into the trash. All this without dropping his gaze or batting an eye.

“Maybe I am,” he says before refocusing on his monitors.

We work the rest of the day, mostly in silence except for snaps and pops, minus the crackle. At five o’clock, he stands and peers down at me, which quickly becomes awkward.

“What?”

“It’s time to go. This is when you usually leave.”

I shake my head. “Not tonight. I’ve got…stuff.” No, I don’t. I finished my kanban board, emailed the link to Chance and Heng with specific instructions to slide their tasks into the “Doing” column as they work them so I stay apprised of their status, and then I piddled on the internet searching for stuff like,Is gum addiction a real thing?(Turns out it is.) AndHow smart are elephants?That last one was the end of a long rabbit hole that started withWhat are the telltale signs of a narcissist?Chance doesn’t seem to fit them, and I suppose he’s smarter than an elephant, so there’s that. Although, he does trample all over code to establish his territory.

Yeah, I’m soooo busy. So busy avoiding any chance of running into Chance at our apartment complex. If I give him a head start he should be safely tucked inside his home before I pull into the parking lot.

At five thirty, I’m tired of learning how to feed backyard ducks, so I gather my things and head to my car. The drive is uneventful, allowing me to enter a meditative state wherein I consider the cost-benefit analysis of repainting my living room and adding a couple more bookshelves. By the time I reach home, it’s decided. I’m going with a pink accent wall, I’m painting my bookshelves black, and installing LED strips to highlight my hardback collection. I may start a BookTube channel just to show off my epic setup.

My mood drops when I pull into the parking lot and see Chance poking around in the trunk of his car. As I park, he loads his hands with grocery bags.

Grocery shopping again? Is he doing this on purpose?

I step out of my car. He heads to the stairs, leaving his trunk open for the next round.

“You need help?” I call after him.

He pauses and shrugs under the weight of his groceries. “Sure.”

I manage to loop the rest of his bags around one wrist and then use my other hand to close the trunk. Chance waits for me and lets me take the stairs in front of him. A narcissist would go first. Or would they? Would they instead try to make me feel important as a way to lure me in? I’ll have to Google it.

I pause at his door, giving him room to unlock it, and then follow him into his apartment, which is unsurprisingly mancave-ish, but surprisingly clean. His gaming setup looks like something they’d use at SpaceX. Glad to see he’s making enough money to build his own little mission control center.

Chance deposits his groceries on the kitchen island. “You want a Coke?”

I set my bags next to his, and decline his offer.

“Want some gum?”

“Is it time to open a new pack?”

“Actually, it is.” He digs through a drawer and pulls out a fresh pack of Orbit Sweet Mint.

“You’re keeping them in business.”

He tears through the packaging and unwraps a piece of gum before popping it in his mouth. “I try.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have stomach issues.”

“Why?” He props a hip against the island, rests one hand on the countertop, and jabs his other hand in his pocket, letting his thumb hang loose. My eyes linger on his bent wrist and the word “exquisite” grapevines through my mind doing jazz hands. I immediately pound it back into its very dark, very dusty box where it belongs.

“Sugar alcohols. They make me…” I almost say toot. Actually they give me the runs, but this conversation is starting to get way too personal, and I’m enjoying his forearms way too much. I gotta get out of here. “…sleepy.”

Chance looks at me funny. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Yeah, well. It’s a thing. Be careful using heavy machinery when you’re using that stuff.” I turn to leave.

“Hey.”

I peek over my shoulder.

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