Nerd Girl

by Lee, Sue

  He looked up and grinned mischievously, raising his eyebrows up and down. “Yes, I am.”

  I laughed at his mocked confidence. To enhance our good mood, I walked over to the iPod perched on the portable speakers. I sifted through his artist list and selected the soulful sounds of Adele. We were relaxed and flirtatious as we moved through the small kitchen. I intentionally brushed my ass in front of him as I walked by; he gave me a light kiss on the back of my neck and made a playful growling sound.

  As we waited for the clams to steam, I started slicing the bread. We were cooking and listening to the music in comfortable silence, so I was surprised when he asked me a pointed question. “How’s the job search going?”

  “It’s going,” I said with a wry smile and then rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to let on how sensitive of a subject this was to me.

  “That great, huh?” He eyed me with curiosity and some concern.

  I twisted my lip up to one side. “I’m stressing over what to tell a potential manager why I’m changing jobs a month after I started a new one. They’re bound to ask.” I gave him a knowing look. “Wouldn’t you?”

  Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed. “This is all my fault,” he said, shaking his head. His lips were pressed into a thin line, as if he was reprimanding himself.

  “No,” I said firmly. “It’s not. It’s just the situation. Neither of us could ever have predicted this. You know that. I thank my stars that I got this job because then I wouldn’t have ever met you. It’s just, well, now I have to deal with the consequences.” I thought of Catherine and his family. “And you have your own consequences to deal with.”

  “I want to help you as much as I can, wherever I can,” he said with determination.

  “You already did. I’m not fired, right?”

  Ryan looked even more upset now. I was attempting to be jokingly sarcastic, but apparently it didn’t come out that way.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I said with soft reassurance. “I always do.”

  “Is marketing what you’ve always wanted to do?” Ryan suddenly sounded more business-like and serious. I could tell he was moving into his focused, professional executive mode. It must be his managerial skills naturally taking over.

  “Not necessarily. The more exposure I got to it, the more I found myself enjoying the dynamic nature of it.” I shrugged. “It looked more fun to me than IT projects.”

  “Do you see yourself at MS long term?”

  I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Is this an interview?” I asked dryly.

  “No, it’s not,” he said somewhat curtly; he wasn’t going to humor me. “I just feel responsible and I want to make it better for you.”

  My heart contracted. He really did feel guilty about all of this and wanted to fix things. I was learning quickly, that wanting to fix things was one of Ryan’s best and ironically, also one of his worst qualities. The spirit of what he was trying to do was touching, but sometimes things just weren’t so easy to fix.

  I sighed and then confessed something I hadn’t yet shared with him, with anyone, for that matter. “Actually, that’s something I’ve been thinking more and more about lately. I know this guy who was a mediocre PM and left voluntarily a few years back. This was a couple of years before the big recession hit. He immediately came back as an independent contractor because he would be able to make more money this way. Or at least back then, that was the case. He eventually found a few other friends that wanted to do the same thing and they subcontracted through him. Now he has a full-fledged consulting company with a hundred plus people. I’ve observed the growth of his business over the last few years and I wondered to myself, why couldn’t I do that? I’m good with people, I know I’m smarter than he is, I have a great network of contacts at MS, and I’m definitely a stronger performer by MS standards than he was.”

  “You mean you want to go work for him?” he asked perplexed.

  He didn’t get it yet. “No. I want to start up my own consulting company.”

  He looked thoughtful and rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “That’s not a bad idea. You know you could easily find contract work through your network. I could help find you some. I think your main challenge is that MS is getting tighter now with contracting/vendor companies. We have preferred lists, but there are still ways to get around it.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve heard the same thing. I’m still thinking of getting my own business license next week, though.” I looked up at him tentatively. I hadn’t shared this idea with anyone yet. He was the first. I wasn’t sure how it would be perceived, especially by someone in his position.

  He eyed me suspiciously, but the edges of his mouth were slightly turned up. “It sounds like this is more than just a fleeting idea?”

  “Maybe, but it never hurts to be prepared.” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to give off an air of nonchalance. The truth was that I wasn’t entirely sure it would be that easy. I’m sure I was greatly simplifying what it took to start a business. What if I failed at it? Even with Ryan, I didn’t want to show my fear of failure just yet. “I’ll try a few informational interviews for other positions at MS and see how that route goes first.”

  At MS, if you want to change jobs internally, you can learn more about a prospective position by scheduling an informational interview with the hiring manager. If there’s mutual agreement that the job is a good fit, then a formal interview loop gets set up. It’s sort of like a first date.

  “You know, I could really help you; if that’s the direction you want to go. I could send out some feelers and find some good vendor contract roles for you.” He seemed to have ignored my last statement, still focused on fixing the problem. “Even though technically I’m not supposed to,” he said coyly.

  “I appreciate it. We’re jumping the gun though.” My stomach growled and he looked down towards the noise and chuckled. “I think I need to focus on something else right now,” I said, breathing in the scent of garlic and butter.

  Ryan laughed. “All right. I know when I’m being redirected.” He kissed me on the forehead before grabbing the hot pads for our pot of clams.

  I woke up with Ryan’s body pressed against me. My back was spooned against the front of his body and his arms and legs surrounded me. He was still asleep, so I listened to his light snores and felt his steady breath on my hair. I could feel his morning erection behind me, which made me smile as I remembered the night before.

  After dinner last night, we had gotten tipsy and happy and singing along with Van Morrison. One of my all-time favorite songs is Into the Mystic. When I told Ryan this, he stood up in the middle of the room and held out his hand, pulled me into his body, and we danced. It was one of the most romantic moments of my life. The other most romantic moment of my life was when Ryan surprised me at Anna’s wedding and kissed me in the lobby. Twice in one week, he’s managed to top my list of best moments ever.

  We took our time making love last night. I knew from the first time we had sex together, that we were sexually compatible; very compatible. I relished this phase in a relationship when all you wanted to do was explore one another’s bodies; when making love was about discovery. I wanted to know what made him feel good, what turned him on. Where were his erogenous zones? Ryan was attentive and a good listener, an excellent and giving lover. I came three times over the course of the evening and in between our lovemaking sessions, we reveled in each other’s company, talking late into the night. We shared more stories about our families, our childhoods, travel, and random thoughts about the universe. I think it was intentional on both of our parts, but we avoided the topic of Catherine.

  Remembering last night made me want to stretch out my sore muscles. I instinctively did just that, waking Ryan up in the process.

  “Good morning,” he mumbled in my ear. One hand reached over to cup one of my breasts. He nuzzled in closer and fit his morning erection into the dimple between my cheeks.

  I pressed my ass against him in res
ponse, eliciting a soft moan from his throat.

  “How did you sleep?” he murmured, his warm lips kissing my shoulder.

  I started to squirm and giggle because he was lightly nipping the back of my neck with his teeth and it tickled. I turned to look at him. “Ryan, I love you.” I don’t know why I was inspired to blurt this out right there and then, but I felt so warm, so safe, so deliriously happy that I couldn’t contain the emotion. Even though it wasn’t my first time telling him I loved him, I still felt a nervous energy whenever I said it. I had bared myself to him so completely and I wanted him to know how I felt all the time.

  He turned me to face him. I rolled over to gaze into his soulful blue eyes and sucked in my breath as I saw the depth of his emotions.

  Ryan pulled me in and kissed me deeply and thoroughly. “I am crazily and madly in love with you, Julia Hayes.”

  I was so in love with this glorious man and by some miracle, he loved me, too.

  Later that morning, we met Ryan’s real estate agent for breakfast at the Hotel de Haro restaurant. Ryan wanted to invest in a vacation home and it was a good time to buy due to the low housing market. His agent was planning to show him several vacation properties for sale.

  Renee Highland was already seated with a latte when we arrived. She was an attractive woman in her mid-to-late thirties with long, blond, Barbie hair. Her arms were chiseled and wickedly toned; I couldn’t help staring. She was wearing beige linen pants and a white summer blouse and looked both professional and casual, a good combination for showing someone homes on a vacation resort island. As we approached the table, she stood and greeted Ryan with a hug, which I noticed seemed to linger longer on her end than his. I spotted well-manicured red nails as her hand still lingered on Ryan’s arm.

  She eyed me curiously, a little surprised to see Ryan with a guest or maybe because it was me; I wondered if she was expecting Catherine. I gave her credit for being discrete enough not to comment. Ryan introduced the two of us, and after a polite handshake, her attention was focused solely on him. I disliked her instantly.

  The rest of our breakfast meeting entailed Renee giving Ryan the rundown of the three properties we were about to go see. All three were waterfront homes and each was priced at over a million dollars. I couldn’t help wondering how much a CVP made at MS—apparently enough to own two multi-million dollar homes.

  Okay, make it three homes. He already owned a small one on Whidbey Island and had a property management company maintaining it. He wanted to do the same here, and if things went well with the San Juan Island property, he would be interested in potentially buying more properties on the island or one of the other islands surrounding it.

  Renee was a touchy person. Not mood touchy, physical touchy. She touched Ryan’s arm lightly several times during their conversation and kept her body angled in his direction. She laughed almost too quickly and too loudly at anything remotely humorous and often flipped her hair back over her shoulders. She was totally hitting on him! The nerve of that bitch!

  She never asked for my opinion, making the assumption that I was not involved in the decision. Even though this was true, Ryan still made a point of including me in the conversation several times. He was so sweet, allowing me to view all the photos and ensuring that their conversation wasn’t boring me. I appreciated his efforts and it left me with a warm, smug feeling inside. Despite this woman’s overtures towards Ryan, he was clearly only interested in the properties and me.

  Since Ryan and I had no vehicle on the island, we rode in Renee’s car, a black Mercedes, to tour the homes. The first property was located only five minutes from Roche Harbor, on Westcott Bay, which was famous for its oysters. We drove along the narrow road that followed the southeast coast of the bay and I sighed as Renee turned onto a long driveway lined by cherry trees. At the end of the driveway sat a lovely, Northwest-style, multi-story home. Stone masonry surrounded the entry and the roof was made of green metal. The house looked like something straight out of Sunset magazine.

  I consulted the house marketing flyer as she ushered us in. This home had three bedrooms and two full bathrooms. It was furnished with cozy rustic furniture, the kind you would see in a luxury ski resort, and there was a lot of stone and dark wood, which I thought was lovely. The living room had a beautiful fireplace with more stone that reached all the way up to the vaulted ceilings. The most stunning and immediately noticeable feature of the home was the floor-to-ceiling rear window, showcasing a pristine and calming view of the bay. It reminded me a bit of Ryan’s home back in the city.

  Ryan took my hand and I followed as Renee led us out to the deck. Stairs to the left of the deck opened to a winding dirt path that led to another, lower deck about twenty feet below where we now both stood. There was plenty of room for the outdoor dining table, the swing bench, and a few other chairs already positioned on the deck. From the lower deck, another set of stairs went further down another twenty feet or so, where we finally met the rocky beach. Renee said that when the tide was at its highest, the water would come almost up to the bottom step. Thankfully, she left us alone and headed up to the house so that Ryan and I could have some time to discuss the property or maybe to just enjoy the view ourselves.

  “What do you think?” Ryan asked.

  “The home is lovely. The view from the deck is breathtaking. If I owned it, I would never want to leave.”

  “Good. I’d like to spend more time up here.”

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s fantastic. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for. I love the privacy here and it’s quiet. You don’t get as much traffic on this bay. We could easily dock the boat out there.” He pointed towards the buoys in the distance.

  I couldn’t help notice that he said we.

  Ryan had explained to me on our boat ride over to the islands that he wanted to purchase a vacation home, but then rent it out during the year on the weeks that he wouldn’t be visiting. It was a win-win for him—an investment, a vacation home, and he could make a little money offering it as a rental.

  The second option was closer to Friday Harbor. We passed a large meadow filled with wildflowers as we drove down the long driveway. This home was older than the one we’d just come from and there were a few trees surrounding it. It was all wood, painted blue with white trim, and boasted the most fabulous wraparound porch. With the meadow out front and a cobblestone garden path leading up to the front steps, the home reminded me of one of the many cute B&B farmhouses around the island. It even had a porch swing that brought visions of drinking coffee on a lazy Sunday morning. When we walked to the back of the house and then further down to the beach, I watched a ferry arriving in the distance.

  I wasn’t impressed with the interior, though. It was clean and well taken care of, but the style of the decor was clearly country. I envisioned the current owners as older, and at least one of them was into flowers, based on the wallpaper selections. I supposed it could be remodeled to reflect more modern tastes. If Ryan’s current home was an indicator of his tastes, my guess was that this one wouldn’t be his favorite.

  As if he could read my mind, he grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go.”

  Apparently my assumptions were correct.

  The last home was similar to the first one. It was Northwest Contemporary and just built last year. Ryan’s initial reaction was positive and he asked Renee a lot of questions about the foundation, since it was built on a bluff. A lot of this discussion was over my head, so I tuned them out, focusing on walking down the steep incline of stairs that led to the beach. Once we reached the bottom of the stairs, there was long dirt path between brush and trees before we finally made it to the rocky beach. Getting to the beach was somewhat of a hike, but once we you got there, the view was stunning. It wasn’t a bay in a closed inlet like the first home—we were looking at Puget Sound. My attention focused back to Ryan and Renee; I heard Renee say something about being able to see pods of whales in the distance during the
summer.

  I was intrigued by the natural wildlife in the area and inclined my head in Renee’s direction to hear more. I noticed her hand gracing Ryan’s shoulder and biceps. I sighed and then realized I may have breathed a bit too loudly; it came out more like a huff than a breath. Ryan must’ve heard me because he was looking at me with a mixed look of annoyance and tolerance in his eyes. The look wasn’t directed at me, but clearly meant for Renee’s overt touchiness. He was obviously aware of how her not-so-subtle actions were affecting my mood.

  Renee, realizing we were sharing a private moment, looked over at me with curiosity, clueless to the cause of the exchange. I walked directly over to Ryan and put one arm around his waist. I was marking my territory and the petty part of me felt a little immature. Renee merely gave me a tight lipped smile. Ryan looked mildly amused.

  Renee dropped us off back at Hotel De Haro and we said our goodbyes. Ryan needed to some time to think about the properties and said he would contact Renee if he had any questions. When Ryan extended his hand, she ignored it and instead embraced him, giving him a kiss on the cheek in an attempt at a European farewell. She formally and politely said goodbye to me and told me how nice it was to meet me. As she walked back to her car, I blew out a breath and an involuntarily “humph.”

  “You can’t possibly be jealous of her, are you?” Ryan asked with an amused expression.

  “No,” I said, somewhat defensively but humored by own possessive behavior.

  “You don’t seem to me to be the jealous type,” Ryan teased.

  “Not really. Well, maybe. Depends,” I said, fingering the zipper of my jacket. “I just didn’t like how touchy she was with you. And right in front of me! I mean, how rude was that?”

  “Aw, now, she wasn’t that bad. Just … friendly,” he said, chuckling. “You’re kind of cute when you’re jealous.”

  I wasn’t looking at him, but I could visualize the smile on his face. I turned to face him and gave him a look of mild annoyance. I tried to act like it was no big deal. He thought I was pouting for the sake of staking my claim, and maybe I was. If I was honest with myself, though, I was sometimes the jealous type. This was especially true whenever I thought about Catherine.