Chapter 05

M y trip to Kelex the following morning is spent looking for a new place and sending emails. I sent a bunch yesterday and have received four unfavorable responses so far. And by the time I arrive at work, I have three more replies telling me the time frame won't work for them. It's technically possible, but I can't see how I'll find a new place so quickly.

Once more, I pour myself a cup of coffee with way too much sugar before I head to my desk. I'm just settling in when my phone buzzes. When I glance at the screen, I see it's another email. What shows on the notification already tells me this is another no, and I sigh.

I'm not as focused as I'd like, but I still manage to get some work done. It takes everything not to spend my morning looking for a solution to my precarious living situation, but I tell myself I'll have the lunch break to do that.

That's why, as soon as half past noon hits, I'm on my feet and walking to the breakroom. I buy another sandwich, find an empty table, and sit down with my phone in hand, ready to find something. I can even rent a storage unit for my stuff and find a cheap hotel to buy some time until I find a new place.

I've barely started my search when a plate of steamy Bolognese pasta is set in front of me.

Startled and confused, I look to my left and notice Oliver holding a similar plate.

"I suspected you'd be having another one of those horrible sandwiches, so I cooked for two," he explains as he sits beside me.

Shocked, I stare at him, then at the well-filled plate. I should refuse, but it's too late for that. And if I'm being honest, it smells really good, and I'm dying to try it .

"You cooked this?" I ask, still surprised.

"I did, so you have to accept the offering, or I'll be offended."

With a small smile and a shake of my head, I pick up the fork planted in the spaghetti. I practically moan at the first bite of pasta. Ugh, he's a great cook, which I add to the mental list I have in his favor. It seems this man is all assets and has no flaws.

"Thanks, Oli. I'll pay you back as soon as I have a decent kitchen."

"No worries. I love cooking."

We're eating and talking about the app he's working on when a familiar voice makes us turn around. It's Brian at the arcade machine, arguing with Steven. "Is that Donkey Kong ?" I ask Oli.

"Yup, an original from the '80s and all. It must have cost a fortune, but I bet it's worth even more now."

"What do you mean?"

He leans forward, coming closer to me as if he has a secret to share. "Do you know who Nammota is?"

Anyone who dabbles in coding knows Nammota. He's our modern-day Robin Hood, the hacker we all aspire to become. For his first hit, he exposed embezzlements in several Fortune 500 companies. Not only that, but he also redistributed most of that money to charities and people in need. The affair was shushed pretty hard by the rich and influential people in charge, but the internet forever knows.

Nammota is a national treasure.

Or at least he was, until maybe four years ago when his activities abruptly came to an end. A lot of people speculated he was arrested or that he died. The one sure thing is that now, no one will ever know the identity of the legendary hacker.

"Everyone knows Nammota," I tell Oli.

"Come see," he says with a mysterious grin, getting up from his chair. I follow him, and he takes us to the old Donkey Kong machine. Brian's playing again. "Brian, can you lose?"

"What? No way, man. I'm feeling it. This game will be a good one."

"I want to show the Nammota thing to Andy," Oliver insists.

Brian reluctantly complies, so Mario dies, the "Game Over" screen comes, and then I get it. I see what Oliver meant. Right there, the three highest-ranking scores are ‘NAM,' ‘MOT' and ‘AAA,' forming an unmistakable NAMMOTAAA.

Without looking away from the game, I ask Oliver, "Is it legit?"

"We don't know, but we like to think it is," Oliver confirms, somewhat smug about it.

"So what? Nammota works here? Or did the machine arrive like this? "

"The scoreboard was blank when it was delivered after we moved into this building. But I've never seen someone play with a score so high, so this happened after hours. We all have our little theories."

"Who do you think it is?"

"Well, there are people in and out all the time, so it might not even be someone who works here," Steven explains. "But we had another developer around that time who fits the profile perfectly. Gregory stopped working here shortly after the leaderboard's final input. And he had a kid around the same time Nammota stopped being active."

"That's why we think it's Greg," Oliver says, nodding.

I stare at the high scores, still shocked. I'm almost starstruck. Could Nammota really have worked here? That's crazy. The NSA, FBI, IRS, Homeland… everyone's looking for him. The man is a fucking legend.

"I think you broke her," Brian whispers to Oli.

"Come on, the food will be cold," Oliver insists.

That's enough for me to rip my eyes off the scoreboard and follow Oli back to our chairs. We eat the rest of our meal in silence, and the whole time, I'm ruminating slowly, still not over the fact that I'm—possibly—working in the same place as the legendary Nammota.

It's only when my phone buzzes with another rejection email that I remember I had a mission. I barely have five minutes left on my break, so I doubt I'll get anything done.

Disappointed in myself, I let out a sigh and turn my phone face down.

"Everything good?" Oli asks.

I consider saying yes because I'm not the type to lay my problems on a stranger. But he's from around here, so maybe he'll be able to help somehow.

"I'm getting evicted in three days, and I can't find anywhere else to live," I impulsively blurt out.

His shock is almost amusing, but I refrain from smiling. "What happened?"

I explain everything to him and end with, "If you know someone who's got an apartment or house for rent, let me know."

Like the kind person he is, he genuinely thinks about it for a moment.

"You know…" he starts, "I think Tamika is looking for a roommate."

"Really?"

"Yeah, her last one ditched her, and I remember she complained about having to find a new one."

A spark of hope flickers in my chest, and I turn around to look at where Tamika was having her lunch just a moment ago. It looks like she already went back upstairs to work, so I sigh again. "I'll have to ask her next time I see her," I decide.

"I think this is urgent enough to pay her a visit now. Come, I'll take you to her office."

We get rid of our lunch stuff, and he determinedly leads me upstairs. We walk up to a door, he knocks on it, and a feminine voice invites us in. We enter the office where several people are working, including Tamika in the far left corner.

We walk up to her, and when she notices us, Tami smiles with a wave of her hand.

"Hey, I was wondering if you're still looking for a roommate?" Oliver signs when we reach her. She nods, and my heart begins to beat a little faster.

"Great! Andy is looking for a new place, kind of urgently, but I'll let you two sort it out."

With one of his friendly and warm smiles, he leaves.

I turn to Tami. "Would you seriously have me as a roommate?" I sign, so relieved that my hands are shaking.

"Are you allergic to peanuts?" Taken aback by the question, I shake my head. "Good. Peanut butter is the one thing I can't exist without, so I can't live in a peanut-free household."

I giggle and then catch myself so I don't disturb her coworkers.

For the following ten minutes, Tami and I have a silent but thorough conversation to ensure neither of us is making a mistake—though beggars can't be choosers, so I'm in no matter what. She promises to send me a few pictures, gives me the address, tells me about the neighborhood… We agree on a three-month trial period, and if it works out, then I can stay for good. After we exchange numbers, I leave the office, ecstatic.

Oliver is leaning against the wall, and when he notices I'm out, he puts his phone away.

"So?"

"Well, thanks to you, my ulcer will now slowly resorb."

"So it's good? She's taking you in?"

"Yes! We'll work out a few things until Friday, but I have a roof for at least three months." I wriggle with excitement and happiness. "Thank you so much for this."

"Anything for a friend in need."

A friend … Not even a week in, and I already have a friend here. And it feels as amazing as the relief of having a home again.

Since I don't know how else to express my elation, I get closer and wrap my arms around him. I hug him tightly, grateful for what he did. He freezes for a moment, unsure how to react, and then his arms slowly close around my shoulders.

"Thank you, Oli. Really," I say, my voice half-muffled by his plaid shirt. He smells good, clean, and earthy—something comfortable and cozy.

"To tell you the truth, it was purely selfish. Now you'll have to take the same bus as me, and I'll get more nerdy debates."

My chuckle is cut short when a door opens next to us. We separate instantly and turn to see who interrupted us.

Of course, it's him .

Alexander Coleman, in all his mightiness, stares at us with a judging glare, his eyebrow cocked up. Somehow, I feel ashamed he caught us like this, even though we did nothing wrong.

He's dashing, as usual, and I feel my skin warm up under his stare. How can this man reduce me to mush with his eyes alone? What kind of sorcery is this?

He's holding his laptop between his thumb and fingers as if it's a weightless piece of cardboard, not a heavy Alienware of nearly twelve pounds. My eyes linger on the flexed muscles of his forearm under a veil of thin, dark hair. His hands are massive, the hard lines of the tendons and veins enhanced by the neon lights above us.

"Weren't you two supposed to be in front of your computers ten minutes ago?" he coldly asks.

"Yes, sorry. We came to see Tami for a personal matter," Oli explains with diplomacy.

"Was the matter resolved?"

"Yes, it was."

Our boss does nothing for a few seconds, staring at me specifically. I have a great excuse for being here, but something tells me it won't fly with him. Only my untimely death would.

Maybe.

Possibly .

When he rips his eyes from mine, it's to check the silver watch around his wrist. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he starts, looking at me again, "but we're past your lunch break, aren't we?"

"Yes, but—"

"And somehow," he rudely cuts me off, "you've decided to corrupt one of your colleagues so you two can frolic around rather than work."

Okay, now I can't contain my anger anymore. He's right about the fact that we should be working, but he doesn't have to be an ass about it.

"We weren't frolicking around," I begin. "Human warmth might be a mysterious notion to y—"

"We're heading back downstairs right now," Oli says hurriedly, cutting my rant short. With that, he grabs my arm, just above my elbow, and pulls me to the stairs.

As we walk, I look behind to send an enraged glare at the pompous idiot, earning myself a defying glower. Oli is the only reason why I don't say anything. "That man needs to chill the fuck out," I mumble as we get further.

"Seriously, Andy, let it go."

"I can't! He is so strict and frigid! How have you been tolerating him for seven years?"

"He isn't normally like this. I guess he's in a mood."

"It doesn't give him the right to lash out at his employees," I mumble under my breath.

"Andy. I promise he's a nice guy. He's just… a little off today."

Unable to hold back, I twist around to glare at our boss one last time. He's still standing there, perfectly still as he watches us leave. Something about him riles me up, and if I don't get better at containing myself, I won't keep this job for much longer.

I want to trust Oliver's judgment, so if he thinks our boss is worth the effort, maybe I should listen. I turn away from Alexander and promise myself I'll try harder to be amiable.

I need this job too much to let some stupid feud with my boss ruin my chances here.

A s I stare at my newest employee walking away, I wonder why she rattles me so much. I've never been good with people, but I can safely say I'm the worst I've ever been when it comes to her.

That is becoming clearer with every interaction we have. I'd decided to avoid her today, but I'm needed in the Lair. And I would have come across her and Oliver anyway.

My eyes lower of their own will, locking on the generous roundness of her behind. Her jeans aren't a tight fit, except there, and the blue fabric leaves very little to the imagination. There's something utterly feminine in her shape, but not in the typical hourglass way. Her waist is narrow, like her shoulders, but her hips are wide and round. I envision them bare, with my hands firmly gripping them to pull her in as I—

She twists around to look back at me, and her nasty scowl is enough to kill the vivid fantasy .

This is what's going on. My biological needs are catching up with me, and she's alluring enough to trigger them. That's why my brain turns useless any time she's around. Before interacting more with her, I need to take care of that.

I shouldn't have said anything just now. I should have let them go without a word. But the anger I felt upon finding them there, holding each other in a tight embrace, compelled me to say something.

This is a company, not a fun little retreat to meet new people and make friends. And her audacity, lecturing me on break times one day, and then returning to work ten minutes late the next…

I don't like dealing with attitude, and she needs to remember who's in charge here.

They disappear into the staircase, and I shake myself out of my thoughts to head to my office. There, I pick up my phone and the hard drive I'll need, and head downstairs. The fact that I'll have to work closely with her displeases me, but I can limit my interactions to Joseph and Mason instead. She might already have a good grasp on the project they're working on, but they remain the leads on it.

As soon as I enter the Lair, to which the door was left open, my eyes glide toward her. She's seated in front of her computer, but her attention is on her phone instead.

Again, her lack of work ethic bothers me. She'll have to do better if she's to be a part of this team. I'd rather not have her around otherwise. She's too… distracting.

Using the fact that she has no idea I'm here, I silently walk toward her. Once I'm close enough to see her phone, I understand she's scrolling through pictures of an apartment.

"You seem determined not to work today, Andrea."

She tenses all over, and I can almost see the thin hairs on her forearms rise. Slowly, she puts her phone down and twists her chair to face me. She at least has the decency to look sheepish about her behavior.

I'm expecting another one of her defying comebacks because of her temper. I'll give her three more of those before I fire her. It's more generous than most.

But instead of getting heated again, she remains contained and calmly says, "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm done now, so I'll get on with it."

Did something happen between five minutes ago and now? Where is the fiery Andrea who was ready to gouge my eyes out?

Something in me feels compelled to test her, so I look down at my watch. "You'll stay for an extra twenty minutes to compensate for the time you wasted. "

She nods, which I'm not expecting again. Am I disappointed, proud, or impressed?

Maybe some of each.

Once I'm settled with my laptop on my desk, I can't help but take quick and discreet glimpses at her. Although she's focused on her screen, I catch her peering at me a couple of times.

I work with Brian for a while, then I have to sit by Mason's side to help him solve the few issues he's having. Seated right next to Andrea, I do my best to ignore her. But I use the fact that she's lost in her script to gaze at what she inputs. She's brilliant at this, and I have no doubt that once she's up to speed with our current apps in development, she'll be able to replace me and assist her colleagues when they're stuck.

I won't have to come down here as much and can keep to my office instead. In peaceful silence, without any jasmine-scented distractions.

Five-thirty arrives, and aside from her, the team slowly filters out after turning their computers off. Oliver is the last one to leave, and before he does, he stops by Andrea's desk.

Because there aren't as many machines running, the room is silent enough for me to hear their brief conversation.

"I would stay, but I have an appointment," he reluctantly explains.

"Don't worry, I think I can find the bus stop without your wise guidance," she quips in return.

They exchange some goodbyes, and then it's just us. She takes out her headphones and slips them on, then the barely perceptible sound of whatever she's listening to reaches me.

Ignoring her becomes nearly impossible, so I consider heading back upstairs. Especially since she sometimes gets carried away and sings along with her music. Something tells me she doesn't even realize she's doing it, absorbed by her work on the screen.

She's so engrossed by it, actually, that she doesn't pay attention to the time. I'm the one who notices she's done with her penance, so I stand and walk up to her.

When she notices me standing by her side, she removes her headphones, slightly startled.

"Your twenty minutes are over," I explain.

"Already?" She checks the time on her screen. "Crap, I'm almost done. I hate leaving something halfway. It takes forever to get back into it."

"I know the feeling." She gives me a dubious look, but I ignore it. "What do you have left to do?"

"It doesn't work, but I can't find why. I'm doing the final sweep now. "

The sooner she's done, the sooner I'm alone again and can work in peace, so I grab Joseph's chair and roll it closer to hers. She looks surprised, so I say, "What? Four eyes are better than two, no?"

Ignoring her discontent, I sit down. I'm close enough to hear her mumble, "I think you mean six eyes," and the amusement it brings lifts the corners of my lips just a little.

There she is. The snappy woman I hired.

Slowly enough so we can read it, she scrolls down the script. About two-thirds into it, we jolt in our chairs simultaneously, having found the issue. Surprised that we reacted in unison, we briefly side-eye one another. With the keyboard in front of her, she starts the corrections. There's nothing I would have done differently, so I let her handle it, observing her in silence.

"I like your work," I say when she's done, removing my glasses. "It's clear, concise, and you comment on everything, so it's easy to follow your chain of thought."

She nods and gives me a smile that I can tell is forced. Did I do it wrong? Was that not an acceptable compliment?

Before I can let it go to my head, I roll my chair back and stand. "Time to head home, Andrea."

"Sorry for earlier. I'm not usually this scattered. I promise it won't happen again," she says as I return to my laptop.

I'm the one answering with a simple nod this time.

She turns her computer off, and once the cooling fans stop spinning, I become keenly aware of the silence surrounding us. She must feel the same way because she grabs her stuff and walks to the door.

"See you tomorrow," she offers, fleeing into the nearly empty office space.

That was… almost courteous. Maybe we can work together after all.