Page 20 of The Refusal

“Tell me what he looked like,” I say.

12

Janus

The door squeaks as I push it open, and I take in the warm lofty space and inhale the sweet smell of baking and coffee beans. Hopefully no one will recognize me here. The wood floors are scuffed with the tread of hundreds of sneakers as I step up to the counter, my eyes scanning the beard and piercings of the guy behind it, his hand movements lazy, precise, a cat appearing slowly on the surface of the foam.

“That’s impressive, man.”

He raises his eyes to meet mine and laughs.

“What can I get you?”

Once I’ve collected my order, I saunter through the nooks and crannies until I find a quiet sofa in a sunny dusty corner, and sink down gratefully into the cushions. Tucked away at the back of the coffee shop, I’m caught up in my phone when the chair opposite me is pulled out. As I look up, my chest squeezes. It’s a version of Jo I’ve never seen before: her coppery hair is piled haphazardly on her head, red tendrils spiraling softly down her neck, and round shiny pink glasses sit on the bridge of her nose. Skipping down her body, she’s a mess of trailing scarves, ripped jeans, socks that look suspiciously like they have rocket ships on them, and a pair of blood-colored Doc Martens. She looks like an exotic bird, some tech guy’s fantasy. If I had been smart enough when I was younger to draw a tech girl hero, she would have looked just like this. Even the glasses are hot. I swallow. All my blood drains to my groin. I want to remove the glasses slowly and watch those green eyes widen as they meet mine. I am so deep in my fantasy I don’t even notice the odd expression on her face.

“Janus?”

I motion my hand up and down. I can’t ignore the fact that I’ve just done a whole-body scan.

“Is this what you wear to work?”

Oh! Wow, Janus, way to go with the idiot comments.

“Yes, uh, why?” She glances down at herself as her voice catches, and I am a dick for making her feel that she looks anything other than fucking amazing.

“No, God, no.” I flap my hand, too quick with my response, and I groan inwardly. “You look great. Like a girl tech hero.” I swallow hard. I’ve never sounded so stupid. I’ve promised I won’t hit on her. Be professional, Janus.

Fortunately, she laughs, sinking into the seat opposite and unwinding a scarf. “I guess you’ve only seen me in my executive outfit before now.” She looks around the café and inclines her head toward my laptop, open on the low table between us.

“How’s it going?”

I wave my arm around the warm wood interior and the gray wool sofa I’m sitting on. “Being out of the office and somewhere different is great. I’ve been making some notes on things, made some decisions. We need to find someone to head up the Asia Pacific region: having a person in place would make the process of setting up there so much easier.” I stop myself in mid-flow. “That’s soobviouswhen I say it out loud.”

Is there a woman in the world who wants to hear about the plans for my management team? As a young nerdy guy in school, I got used to being dismissed by girls. With my slightly overweight frame, unkempt clothes, and temperamental skin, girls handed me their phones to fix and neveroncelooked at me. It wasn’t until I went to college and Fabian took me in hand—screamedmoveat me on weight machines and treadmills and stopped me living off pizza—that I started having any sort of success with girls. That guy still lingers inside, rearing his ugly head when I talk too much about tech or meet a woman I like, but as I look at Jo her eyes are clear and bright, never straying from mine.

Okay then.

“Less travel for you?” she says.

I nod. My tongue feels welded to the roof of my mouth, but her earnest expression makes something unwind. I wonder if she was the same kind of nerdy teenager that I was. I straighten my legs, easing back into my seat.

“The traveling over the last six months has been insane. I’ve been to so many countries and seen so many hotel rooms I can barely remember them. Hopping from country to country”—I shake my head—“as a backpacker it would be a blast, but all I do is see lawyers and offices. I love writing software, but the reality is I might never get back to having fun with code again.”

She’s nodding.

“Friday is my coding day actually. I protect it in my calendar.” She laughs and leans forward to stir her coffee. The light catches a piece of her hair, setting it on fire.

Some scent I can’t define grabs me in the back of my throat, a sort of citrus perfume, and I want to lean over and sniff her. I almost laugh out loud at how inappropriatethatwould be.

“I count the days to it. Sad geek.” She mumbles the last words with a grimace as she lifts her cup to her mouth. I take in the wrinkled nose, the sweep of her lashes. I want to kiss her cheek and lick her freckles, see if they taste like chocolate, sweet and exploding on my tongue.

“Janus?”

Ugh. What thehellwere we talking about? Coding days. Yes.

“Excellent idea. I should try and do something like that. The real problem is the time you need to get your head around it. The chances of me getting a whole day now without interruption are just …” I shake my head.

She reaches over and puts her palm on my forearm.

---