“No.” I rolled my eyes even though he might have been a little right.
He sort of looked like the man behind Superman’s secret identity. Not the one with the cape, the one who wore a suit, had a nine-to-five job, and was kind of … hot for a guy working in an office. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud. Not even to Rosie.
Aaron studied my face for a couple of seconds.
“I think I’m going to take it as a compliment,” he said as one of the corners of his lips bent up just the tiniest little bit.
Smug Clark Kent look-alike.
“Well, it’s not.” I reached for my mouse, clicking to open a random folder. “Thor or Captain America? That would have been a compliment. But you are not a Chris. Plus, no one cares about Superman anymore, Mr. Kent.”
Aaron seemed to think about my statement for an instant. “It sounds like you still care though.”
As I ignored that, he proceeded to walk behind me. Then, I watched him cross the office to the desk that belonged to one of the guys I shared the space with but who had obviously left hours ago. He grabbed his chair with one hand and rolled it in my direction.
My arms crossed in front of my chest as he placed that chair beside mine and let his large body fall on it, making it squeak and look rather frail.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“You asked me that question already.” He pinned me with a bored look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“I don’t need your help, Blackford.”
He sighed. “I think I’m having another déjà vu.”
“You,” I stuttered. Then scoffed again. “I … ugh.”
“Catalina,” he said, and I hated how my name sounded on is lips in that precise moment. “You need the help. So, I’m saving us both some time because we both know you’d never ask.”
He wasn’t wrong. I would never ask Aaron for anything, not when I knew exactly what he thought about me. Personally, professionally, it didn’t matter. I had been well aware of what he thought of me all this time. I had heard him myself all those months ago even if he didn’t know that. So, no, I refused to accept anything from him. As much as that turned me into a grudge-holder too. Just like he was. I’d live with it.
Aaron leaned back and placed his hands on the chair’s armrests. The shirt strained with the motion, the change in the tension of the fabric too flattering enough for my eyes not to unconsciously drift there.
Jesus. My eyes fluttered closed for a second. I was hungry, tired from dealing with all this, betrayed by my own two eyes, and honestly simply confused at this point.
“Stop being so stubborn,” he said.
Stubborn. Why? Because I hadn’t asked for his help and I was supposed to take it when he decided to offer it?
Now, I was pissed. That was probably why I opened my mouth without thinking. “That’s why you didn’t speak up during the meeting where all this was dumped on me and then some? Because I didn’t ask for help? Because I am too stubborn to ever accept it?”
Aaron’s head reared back just slightly; he was probably shocked by my admission.
I immediately regretted saying anything. I did. But it had somehow slipped out, as if the words had been squeezed out of me.
Something flashed through his otherwise serious expression. “I didn’t realize you wanted me to step in.”
Of course not. No one had. Not even Héctor, who I almost considered family. Didn’t I know that by now? Yes, I was more than familiar with the fact that when it came to these situations, there were two groups of people. Those who believed that not saying anything made them stand in neutral ground and those who picked a side. And more often than not, it was the wrong one. Sure, it wasn’t always as harmless as condescending and disrespectful comments like those Gerald had made. Sometimes, it was far, far worse than just that. I knew that. I had experienced that firsthand a long time ago.
I shook my head, pushing the memories away. “Would that have made a difference, Aaron? If I had asked you to intervene?” I asked him, as if he held the solution in his hands when he really didn’t. I watched him, feeling my heart race with trepidation. “Or if I told you I was exhausted from having to ask, would you step in then?”
Aaron studied me in silence, searching my face almost gingerly.
My cheeks heated up under his scrutiny, making me regret more and more that I had spoken.
“Forget I said anything, okay?” I averted my eyes, feeling disappointed and mad at myself for putting Aaron, out of all people, on the line when he didn’t owe me anything. Not a single thing. “I’m stuck with this anyway. It doesn’t matter how or why.” Or that it wouldn’t be the last time.
Aaron straightened, leaning his body toward me just the splinter of a hair. He took a deep breath as I seemed to hold mine, waiting for him to say whatever was brewing in his mind.
“You’ve never needed anyone to fight your battles, Catalina. That’s one of the things I respect the most about you.”
His words did something to my chest. Something that created a kind of pressure I wasn’t comfortable with.
Aaron never said stuff like that. Not to anyone and particularly not to me.
I opened my mouth to tell him that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care, that we could just drop it, but he held up a hand, stopping me.
“On the other hand, I never pegged you for someone who would cower and not give their best when faced with a challenge. Whether it’s unfairly imposed or not,” he said, turning away and facing his laptop. “So, what’s it going to be?”
My jaw clamped closed.
I … I wasn’t cowering. I was not scared of this thing. I knew I could do it. I just … hell, I was just exhausted. It was hard, finding the motivation when something was this discouraging. “I’m not—”
“What is it going to be, Catalina?” His fingers moved on the laptop pad with practice. “Whining or working?”
“I am not whining,” I huffed.
Clark Kent look-alike jerk.
“Then, we work,” he fired back.
I took a good look at him, taking in how his jaw bunched up with determination. Perhaps some irritation too.
“There’s no we here,” I breathed out.
He shook his head, and I swore the ghost of a smile graced his lips for a fragment of a second.
“I swear to God …” He looked up, as if he were asking the heavens for patience. “You are taking the help. That’s it.” He peeked down at his watch, exhaling. “I don’t have the whole day to convince you.” Scowl back in place, he returned to the Aaron I knew. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”
This scowling Aaron I felt more comfortable with. He didn’t go around, saying stupid stuff, like that he respected me.
Now, it was my turn to scowl, as I was painfully aware of how I wasn’t kicking Aaron out of my office anymore.
“I’m as stubborn as you are,” he murmured, typing something in his laptop. “You know I am.”
Returning my attention to my computer screen, I decided to allow this strange truce to settle between us. Just for the sake of InTech’s reputation. For my own mental health, too, because he was driving me completely crazy.
We’d be two scowling idiots who would tolerate each other for an evening, I guessed.
“Fine. I’ll let you help me if you are so set on it,” I told him, trying not to focus on that warm ball of emotion forming in my belly.
One that felt a lot like gratitude.
He peeked at me quickly, something unreadable in his eyes. “We’ll need to start from scratch. Open a blank template.”
Looking away, I tried to focus on my screen.
We had been in silence for a couple of minutes when out of the corner of my eye, I perceived movement. Quickly after, he placed something on my desk. Right between us.
“Here,” I heard him say from my side.
Looking down, my gaze found something wrapped in wax paper. It was a square, about three or four inches long.
“What’s this?” I asked him, my eyes jumping to his profile.
“A granola bar,” he answered without looking at me, typing on his keyboard. “You are hungry. Eat it.”
I watched my hands move to the snack of their own accord. Once unwrapped, I inspected it closely. Homemade. It had to be, judging by the way roasted oats, dried fruits, and nuts were assembled together.
I heard Aaron’s long sigh. “If you ask me if it’s poisoned, I swear—”
“No,” I murmured.
Then, I shook my head, feeling that weird pressure in my chest again. So, I took the snack to my mouth, bit into it, and—holy granola bars. I moaned in delight.
“For Christ’s sake,” the man to my right muttered under his breath.
Gobbling all the nutty and sugary amazingness down, I shrugged. “Sorry, it was a moan-worthy bite.”
I watched his head shake as he was focused on the document on his screen. As I studied his profile, an odd and unfamiliar feeling settled in. And it had nothing to do with my appreciation for Aaron’s unexpected baking skills. It was something else, something warm and fuzzy that I had gotten a whiff of a few minutes earlier, but now, I wanted to bend my lips into a smile.
I was grateful.
Aaron Blackford, scowling Clark Kent look-alike, was in my office. Helping me and feeding me homemade snacks, and I was glad. Thankful even.
“Thank you.” The fugitive words escaped my lips.
He turned to face me, and I saw him relax for an instant. Then, his eyes jumped to my screen. He scoffed, “You still haven’t opened a blank template?”
“Oye.” The Spanish word slipped out. “You don’t have to be so bossy. Not everyone has super speed like you, Mr. Kent.”
His eyebrows rose, and he looked unimpressed. “Quite the contrary. Some even have the opposite superpower.”
“Ha.” I rolled my eyes. “Funny.”
His gaze shifted back to his screen. “Blank template. And make it today, if that’s not too much to ask.”
This was going to be a long night.