“Thank you.”
“No problem.” I might be imagining this, but I think I hear him inhale slowly before he moves away. Does my hair smell bad? I washed it yesterday. Has Garnier Fructis finally failed me after years of faithful service? I’m wondering whether it’s time to switch to Pantene by the time we’re politely eating at the kitchen table, in front of each other, like we’re a young family in a Campbell’s commercial.
Problem: without the TV on, it’s pretty conspicuous that we have nothing to talk about. Liam glances at me every few seconds, as though me stuffing my face is either something he likes to look at, or something totally hideous—who’s to say? As the silence stretches, I am once again regretting every choice I’ve ever made. And when his phone rings, I’m so relieved I could fist-pump.
Except that he doesn’t pick up. He checks caller ID (FGP Corp—Mitch), rolls his eyes, and then turns the phone around in a dismissive movement that has me chuckling.
Liam gives me a puzzled look.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to... Just...” I shrug. “It’s nice to know that you hate your colleagues, too.”
He lifts one eyebrow. “You hate your colleagues?”
“Well, no. I don’t hate them. I mean, I sometimes hate them, but...” Why is this about me? “Anyway, do you think the snow is over for good?”
“Why do you sometimes hate your colleagues?”
“I don’t. I misspoke. It’s just...” Liam has stopped eating and is looking at me like he’s actually interested. Ugh. “They’re all men. All engineers. And men engineers can be... yeah. And I’m the newest arrival, and they’re all kind of chummy already. And I’m pretty sure that Sean, my boss, thinks that I’m some sort of pity diversity hire. Which I’m not. I’m actually a really good engineer. I have to be, or Helena would have butchered me in my sleep.”
He nods as though he understands. “She’d have butchered you awake.”
“Right? She wasn’t exactly forgiving. And I’m not complaining—I owe her so much. She truly helped me become a better scientist, but everyone in my team treats me as though I’m some infant engineer who doesn’t know what an ohm is, and—” Why am I still talking? “Well, everyone except for Ted, but I’m not sure whether he actually respects me or is just trying to get laid, since he’s already asked me out like, three times, which makes things kind of awkward...”
Liam’s face instantly hardens. His spoon sets in the bowl with a loud clink. “This is sexual harassment.”
“Oh, no.”
“At the very least, it’s highly inappropriate.”
“No, it’s not like that—”
“I can talk to him.”
I blink. “What?”
“What’s his last name?” Liam asks, like it’s a totally normal question. “I can talk to him. Explain that he has made you uncomfortable and he should stop—”
“What?” I let out a laugh. “Liam, I’m not going to tell you his last name. What are you gonna do, pour a barrel of oil on his house?”
He looks away. Like it was an option.
“No, I... I actually like Ted. He’s nice. I mean, I’ve even considered saying yes. Why not, right?” Why not? is what Helena would say, but Liam’s expression darkens at that. Or maybe it’s just my entire soul, darkening at the idea of putting on eyeliner to go out with a guy who’s perfectly fine and excites me as much as boiled spinach. “It’s just that...” I shrug. How to explain that I am forever uninspired by the men I meet? I won’t even bother. It’s not like he cares. “Thank you, though,” I add.
He looks like he’d like to insist, but just says, “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Um. Okay.” I guess I have a six-foot-three mountain of muscles in my corner now? It’s kinda nice. I should make soup more often. “So, since I have you here,” and to avoid dropping into awkward silence again, “what’s up with the pictures?”
“The pictures?”
“The black-and-white pictures of trees and lakes and stuff. Hanging on literally every single wall.”
“I just like to take them.”
“Wait. You took the pictures yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Does it mean that you’ve actually been to all those places?”