by Elena Armas
Everything tangled together in knots that messed with my head.
Aaron kept looking at me, a strange emotion behind his blue eyes. He was probably waiting for me to say something that wasn’t mumbled words.
“Would that …” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble,” I finally managed to say. “I guess that someone could check if the auction contract was fulfilled?” I didn’t know if this contract existed. Didn’t even know if anybody would even check anything. “The last thing I’d want is to hamper the good that the fundraiser has achieved tonight.” I kept going, Aaron’s features unchanging, “Nobody needs to know that the date is fake anyway. Right?”
He kept looking at me in that searching way I didn’t understand. “No. Nobody needs to know.”
“Or that we are going as friends, right?” That had not sounded right. Were we even friends?
“Is that what you want to be, Catalina?” Aaron shot back calmly. “Friends?”
“Yes,” I answered. But did I? We had never been, and that had never had anything to do with me. That hadn’t been on me. “No,” I rectified, remembering that one big obstacle that had stood between us since the beginning. One that Aaron had put there, not me. It had been him, the one who never liked me, not the other way around. It wasn’t fair of him to ask me now. “I don’t know, Aaron.” My palms felt clammy and my throat dry, and I was … confused. “What kind of question is that?”
Aaron seemed to ponder my words. “Yes or no?” he pressed.
My mouth opened and closed. We had stopped dancing at some point. My palms, which had been on Aaron’s chest, dropped down. Aaron’s gaze followed the motion. Something locked tightly behind that unreadable mask that was his expression.
“Forget I said anything,” he said, his arms, which had been still around me, falling down. “This was a bad idea.”
That made me physically flinch, and I didn’t really understand why I had done that or what he’d meant by this.
Both of us stood in front of each other, unmoving. And as much as Aaron had been distant and dismissive in the past, he had never looked this … aloof. Almost as if I had said something that hurt him.
The urge to reach out and place my hand on his chest resurfaced again. And I couldn’t, for the life of me, begin to fathom why. Not when a small voice in my head—which I assumed was common sense—was telling me that I should be glad, that this was us getting back on track to where we should stand.
But I wasn’t any good at listening to sense these days. So, when my arm lifted—because I was like that and I couldn’t help but comfort those around me with hugs or touches or whatever they needed—and Aaron stepped back, away from me, it actually stung. So much that I had to scold myself for being that stupid.
“See?” I said under my breath. “This is why I don’t know if we can be friends. Why we have never been.”
Tonight had been a fluke, and this was the reason. Everything always escalated out of control when it came to us.
“You are right.” His voice was unspeakably flat. “Being your friend has always been the last thing on my mind.”
His words, together with mine, felt like hail falling unrelentingly on me. On us, as we stood there in front of each other. Poking holes in the little bubble we had been in for the past few hours. The one we had been in while we danced. Right before the truce that had been silently established blew up in our faces.
Just like I should have expected.
I blinked at him, not knowing what to say.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes and take you home.”
He turned around and left me right where I was.
Rooted to the place.
Standing on legs that I didn’t trust without the support of his arms. My heart beating ruthlessly against my chest. Feeling the cold seep through my blood in his sudden absence and my head questioning everything that had happened tonight regardless of how much I reminded myself that it meant nothing.
Nothing at all.
We had never been friends.
We were back to being the same Aaron and Lina we had always been, and that was something that would never change.
Chapter Ten
When I entered InTech headquarters the following Monday, I was feeling like I had swallowed a ball of lead with my coffee that morning. And with every step I took in my office’s direction, the sensation kept intensifying, as if the ball were expanding and taking more and more room in my stomach.
I hadn’t been this … uneasy ever since that awful call a couple of weeks ago when I had heard that Daniel was engaged. The one phone call where the lie had come to be.
But this was different, wasn’t it?
This heaviness in the bottom of my stomach had nothing to do with something I had blurted out in a moment of desperation and stupidity.
Although maybe it did.
Because as much as acknowledging that the way I felt had anything to do with how Aaron and I had left things on Saturday was the last thing I wanted to do, I had. And as much as I refused to waste a second of my time worrying over it, I had.
Which was absolutely ridiculous because why would I want last Saturday—or him—to take any space in my head? I had no reason to. Not consciously at least. We weren’t friends. We didn’t owe anything to each other. And whatever he had said—or done, or looked like, or smelled like, or the way he had smiled or held me as we danced or even whatever he had whispered in my damn ear—should have bounced right off me.
But apparently, my mind had other ideas.
“Being your friend has always been the last thing on my mind.”
Those had been his words. He couldn’t have said it any clearer.
Fine by me. I had never wanted to be his friend either. Except maybe for a couple of days when he had first started at InTech.
But that ship had sailed long ago. I had blacklisted him for a reason, and that was where he should have stayed. In my blacklist.
The only teeny-tiny problem was that I sort of needed him. And I … God. I’d deal with that later.
Shaking off all of Aaron’s drama and burying deep that kernel of uneasiness so it did not grow into something else, I placed my bag on my chair, grabbed my planner, and made my way to the room where our monthly Breakfast & Broadcast was held. Jeff, our boss and head of the Solutions Division of the company, and all five teams that he coordinated attended. And no, we didn’t have breakfast and watch the news. Unfortunately. It was just a meeting that took place once a month, where bad coffee and a really sad excuse for cookies were provided and where Jeff updated our division on the latest news and announcements.
Being one of the first in the room, I took my usual place, opened my planner, and went through a few reminders I had noted down for the week while the room filled out with people.
Feeling a soft brush of a hand on my arm and the light scent of peaches, I turned, already knowing who I’d find smiling down at me.
“Hey, Jim’s or Greenie’s for lunch?” Rosie asked in a hushed voice.
“I’d sell my soul for a bagel from Jim’s, but I shouldn’t.” Today was definitely not a salad day; my mood would plummet down even more, but the wedding was right around the corner. “So, Greenie’s.”
“Are you sure?” Rosie’s gaze slid to the cookies displayed on the narrow table placed at the entrance of the room. “God, those look worse than usual.”
I chuckled, and before I could answer, my stomach grumbled. “Kinda regretting not having breakfast,” I murmured, looking at my friend with a grimace.
“Lina.” Rosie frowned, her voice holding a warning edge. “That’s not you, sweetie. That diet you have been on, it’s just stupid.”
“It’s not a diet.” I rolled my eyes, ignoring the voice in my head that was agreeing with my friend. “I’m just watching what I eat.”
She cut me a look that told me she didn’t believe me. “We are going to Jim’s.”
�
�Trust me, after the weekend I had, I’d let you take me there, and I’d raid the place, but it’s gonna be a no.”
My friend searched my face, probably finding something in there because an eyebrow arched. “What did you do?”
I leaned back on my chair, a little huff leaving my lips. “I did not—” I stopped myself. I had done plenty. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”
Her eyes filled with concern. “At Jim’s.” With one last nod, Rosie shifted past me and walked to the chair next to Héctor, her team leader.
When I caught the eye of the old man, I waved at him with a small smile, receiving a wink from him.
And then—catching me completely off guard, even when it shouldn’t have—my Aaron radar went off. Warning me of his presence.
My heart lurched in my chest, and my gaze hunted him down.
He is not that good-looking. He’s just tall, I told myself as I took him in.
Something in my rib cage sped up.
It was the tuxedo because my body is surely not reacting to that button-down shirt and those pressed slacks, I thought as my eyes followed his long strides to the chair I knew he’d take a couple of rows in front of me and to my left.
Yeah, his face is certainly nothing to write home about, I reminded myself as I studied his hard and masculine profile, from his jaw to the dark line of thick hair framing his forehead.
See? I’ve got this under control. My body is back to normal. I didn’t need the comfort of a cream cheese and salmon bagel.
But then Aaron looked back. His eyes met mine across the room. Finding me looking at him in a way I presumed was a little too intense for someone who had sworn wouldn’t pay him any attention only a few minutes ago.
I felt my cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and I’d bet I looked like my whole face was on fire.
And yet, the one who averted his gaze first wasn’t me. It was him. Aaron’s eyes fell down and stayed somewhere ahead. Somewhere that wasn’t me.
Something about that did not sit well with me. Something about the fact that he had just dismissed me so quickly bothered me more than ever.
But before I could delve too much into that, Jeff’s voice pulled me right back. “Good morning, everyone,” he said, and the low muttering in the room turned into silence. “This Breakfast & Broadcast session will be fairly short. I need to run to an impromptu meeting I was called to in about thirty minutes, so don’t get too comfortable, and have your fill of cookies before it’s over.” Our boss laughed lightly.
Nobody bothered to move. Obviously.
“As you know, we are undergoing some important changes in the structure of InTech. A rearrangement of the responsibilities will take place—among a few other things, of course. Everything will have a repercussion on the structure of the company as we know it today. But this is not a reason to worry. Most of the changes will be integrated gradually and throughout the upcoming months.”
The screen that hung from one of the conference room walls showed an organizational chart of our division with our boss’s name highlighted on top—Jeff Foster—and the names of the five team leaders right under his—Aaron Blackford, Gerald Simmons, Héctor Díaz, Kabir Pokrehl, and me, Catalina Martín.
There had been rumors—nothing more than corridor whispers—that something big was about to happen in the company. Something that would shake things up. But no one really knew what was about to come.
“Having said that,” our boss continued after clearing his throat, “there is an announcement I’d like to make now, before any of it is officially released in a corporate statement.”
The man—who my friend and colleague Rosie had referred to as a silver fox one time when she was a little tipsy—who was all gray hair and natural charm, seemed to hesitate for a moment. His hand flew to the collar of his shirt, tugging at it lightly.
Jeff pressed a key on his laptop, and a new slide was displayed on the screen. One with a diagram that was very similar to the one presented previously. Almost a duplicate, it was essentially the exact same, except for one single detail.
The name filling the blue square above the five team leaders in the Tech Division was no longer Jeff’s.
That ball of lead I had been feeling since early that morning fell to my feet.
Our boss clasped his hands together, my gaze bouncing between him and the screen. “I am pleased to announce that Aaron Blackford will be promoted to head of the Solutions Division of InTech.” Jeff’s words entered my ears, traveling all the way to my head, where they seemed to bounce from one wall to the next, unable to be processed by my brain. “Aaron has been one of the most consistent and efficient members I have ever had the pleasure to oversee, and he has proven himself worthy for this promotion time and time again. So, I have no doubt in my mind that he will do an amazing job as head of the division.”
Everybody had been shocked into silence. Just like me.
“It hasn’t been decided when he’ll take over all my responsibilities while I undertake a more advisory role for InTech, but I wanted to give you—the Solutions family—the news first. Even if it hasn’t been officially announced yet.”
Jeff continued talking then, probably going through whatever was in the agenda of the Breakfast & Broadcast next. Or maybe not—I didn’t know. I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t when his announcement was the only thing spinning in my head.
Aaron Blackford will be my boss.
My gaze shot to Aaron, who was leaning back in his chair. His gaze kept fixated somewhere in front of him, his expression impassive. Even more than usual.
There was a pause and some clapping. To which my hands joined in automatically.
Aaron Blackford will be promoted to head of the division, and I just went on a date with him. A fake date but one to anyone looking.
For an instant, I was hurled back in time. To a past I had left behind and did not want to remember. Or relive ever again.
Shaking my head, I tried to appease the whirlwind of unwelcome memories. No, I wouldn’t think of that right now, not in front of everyone.
My gaze, which was still latched on to Aaron, studied his vacant expression.
This changed everything. Whatever was … between us.
It no longer mattered that he was my only option. It didn’t matter anymore that no one in Spain would believe we were dating because we bickered and argued constantly. It did not matter that he had confessed he never wanted to be my friend and that I didn’t know where that left us.
None of that mattered because, now, the deal was off. It had to be off.
I would not play charades with the man who was to be promoted to head of my division. My boss.
There was no way I’d put myself in a situation I had already been in, which had ended up so badly. For me. Only for me. So, even if all of it would be fake—had been fake last Saturday—I simply would not risk it.
The screeching of chairs brought me back to the room. I watched everyone swiftly stand up and scatter, Aaron included.
I met Rosie’s gaze, gaping green eyes framed by dark curls.
Holy shit, my friend mouthed.
Holy shit indeed.
And she didn’t even know all of it yet.
I caught a glimpse of Aaron’s back somewhere behind Rosie, and a resolution that hadn’t been there a moment ago solidified in my mind. Mamá had taught me better than to leave things hanging over my head. Ignoring and waiting for them to go away on their own wasn’t the smart thing to do. Because they didn’t. Sooner or later—and just when you least expected them to—they’d fall off right on top of you, and chances were, they’d take you down with them if you let them.
With newfound determination driving my body, I waved at Rosie and let my legs walk me out of the meeting room. My short limbs were on a mission, trying to catch up with the long strides of the man I was chasing.
In the matter of a couple of minutes, which wasn’t long but about enough for my heart to start racing with a weird and strange anticipation,
he reached his office. I entered only a few steps behind him.
I watched Aaron walk up to his chair and let his body fall onto it, his lids falling shut and his right hand reaching for his face. He rubbed his eyes.
He must have thought he was alone because I didn’t think Aaron had ever allowed himself to look like this when there was someone around. So weary. Real and not that steel facade he always put on.
Just like it had happened on Saturday, the urge to comfort him rose again. And despite myself, I almost started in his direction and asked if he was okay. Thankfully, the little common sense I had around this man stepped in and stopped me from embarrassing myself.
Aaron did not want my comfort. He didn’t even want to be my friend.
Standing on the other side of his desk, only that piece of functional furniture separating us, I finally made my presence noticed. “Congratulations!” I blurted with a dose of extra enthusiasm that I regretted immediately.
Aaron straightened in his chair, his palm falling to the armrest. “Catalina,” he said in a voice that, now, I could not hear without thinking of last Saturday. His gaze zeroed in on me, his features piecing back together. “Thank you.”
“You deserve the promotion.”
He did. And beneath everything I was feeling in that moment, I was only happy for him. Genuinely.
He nodded in silence.
Grabbing on to my planner with both hands, knowing it was the only way I could keep myself from fidgeting, I hunted my disjointed mind for a way to voice what I had come here to say as we stared at each other in silence.
“I think we should …” I trailed off, still not finding a way to say it. “I think it’s better if we—” I shook my head. “I know you probably don’t have the time to talk. But I think we should do that.” I watched him frown. “Privately.” That frown deepened. “If you have the time, of course.”
I didn’t want that door behind me closed because the idea of being in a room with Aaron made my heart do silly, stupid things that I was trying really hard to ignore. But it was the only way to ensure nobody would either come in or walk by and overhear us.