As soon as I open the front door, he turns his head to me, and I point to the car. Immediately, he calls for someone to take his place on the radio and within a second, one of the guys comes running up the front porch steps to help. I follow Van to the car. We don’t talk much, Van and I, but our silence usually means everything is good between us, so I let that be a comfort as he drives us through La’s ever-present traffic.
After we’re parked outside the building, I try not to look at the empty parking lot and imagine that Scout’s car is there. It’s still too early for her to be, but I do hope she has a perfectly good explanation for her avoiding me all weekend when she arrives. Perhaps, her phone died. Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.
I barely pick my feet up as I make my way to the front door, scan my finger, and walk inside. Slowly, I make my way down the dark hallway and then into the workroom, where the robot voice greets me by name. I greet her back, but she’s not much of a conversationalist. It’s not in her program… But it could be. No. I have to focus on getting all of our devices ready before tonight.
My work desk is neat as always, the computer in the center where I left it. When I open it up, I see the message from Vince. An entire scanned copy of the layout of The Magdalin. Honestly, I think we’re crazy— believing that we can sneak into such a secured place on our first trial run. That’s Vince, though. He takes risks and usually gets rewarded for it. He also trusts far too much, considering that this is my first time even running a team on my own. Yeah, it’s definitely a gamble, but I know the team I have is capable, and what we’ve achieved together is rather extraordinary.
For the next few hours, I work to transcribe the map of the Magdalin into code. This will allow me to easily assign who will input each section of the map into the proper devices. I toil with this for so long that I forget everything around me. My focus is so intense that it takes a heavy hand pounding down on my shoulder to cause me to look over. McLaren is staring down at me, cheeks as flustered as usual, brows raised so high that the length of his swooping hair is covering them completely.
“Hey, boss. Got those codes ready yet?” I look at him for a second like he’s speaking another language because, at first, I think he is until I’ve processed what he’s saying. I click my tongue and try to play it off like I know exactly how long I’ve been off in my own little coding world.
“Almost.”
“Should we work on other tech while we wait?”
I turn to see every person on my team working in their areas quietly. Clearly, they’ve chosen McLaren as their spokesperson because we’re the only ones making noise, and they’ve not looked over at us once. I glance back at the time to see it’s 6:50 a.m., ten minutes before start time. How did that many hours pass already? Our plan for today was prep, and they all came a bit early to find I had nothing for them.
“Oh, shit,” I mumbled under my breath.
“I’ll send everyone what I have. There’s just one last bit of this map that I have to code. Scout, can you—” I turn to her desk and see that it’s empty.
“She hasn’t come in yet,” McLaren states the obvious. No wonder I didn’t realize how much time had passed, or how slowly this was moving without her help. I turn back to my computer, pushing every concern and frustration aside, so I can get this done and send out the pieces of the map to each group.
“Thanks!” McLaren backtracks when he sees what I’ve done, heading back to his seat. I type even faster than before to get the details of this map written out before the workday officially begins. That way, everyone will be on task instead of moving to build other tech that would require Scout to oversee.
I thought this was supposed to be my one place where nothing could affect me, but I’m stuck multitasking, something I’m not great at, simply because Scout isn’t here. One part of me is moving as quickly as I can to get this done, and the other part of me is stuck toiling over Scout again. Where is she? Why hasn’t she come at the usual time? Will I ever see her again? So, I’m being a little dramatic, but I’m stressed, and as previously mentioned, multitasking isn’t my area of expertise.
Just as I finish writing up the code for the last curvature of the upper level of the map, I hear the doors open, and I immediately turn my attention to see Scout. She’s wearing a sundress with a gray blazer over it and open-toed shoes, which we normally don’t allow, so I don’t know what she’s even thinking.
I’m nearly about to meet her halfway and bring her out in the hallway to discuss her being late, but when I check the time, it’s exactly 7. I bite down on my lip, accidentally breaking the skin a bit and cursing about it under my breath as I turn back to my computer.
It would be a failure on my part not to ask what the hell is happening, but I almost like my odds better not asking her just yet. I decide to wait it out and instead focus on the last bit of coding before sending it out to another group.
While everyone continues to work, I decide to put together the belts where each person's devices will be stored tonight during our test run.
I cross to the edge of the room and pull down ten belts from a shelf above our tool wall, glancing over my shoulder accidentally after placing them on the table. It’s a habit I have looking at Scout throughout the day. As annoyed as she’s made me, I guess I can’t continue being so chuffed about the whole situation. She doesn’t owe me anything. I can suck it up, so it doesn’t feel awkward.
“Scout, can you come help me with these?” I call, and she looks up, causing my heart to tense a bit when her amber eyes take in what I’m asking. She stands in response and crosses the room, stopping when she’s beside me. But she keeps her distance, and I try not to let this bother me more. Surely, it’s accidental and not a deliberate action to evade my company.
“You do five. I’ll do five?” I slide five belts across the table and the pockets that we’ll attach to them, which will hold each device. She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes the things I’ve handed her and begins to work at the far corner of the metal table. I accidentally furrow my brows at her, but she doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. With a shake of my head, I bring my attention back to the belts, working on attaching every pocket at the right vicinity from one another to allow quick access for the user.
The entire room is quiet except for a couple of mumbles between team members here and there. Scout is so quiet that I nearly forget that she’s beside me. When I look up after finishing the last belt, I see she actually isn’t and has gone back to her desk with the belts. I walk over to her, ignoring the blood that’s rushed to my head, telling me to be angry. When I see she’s finished with them and has begun helping someone’s group, I grab the belts and walk with them back to the table.
“I think Scout needs your help!” One of the guys calls to me just as I set them down on the table. As I turn back to her, I catch her shaking her head at him, and I honestly can’t figure it out. If she doesn’t want anything from me anymore, that’s fine. I can get the fuck over it, but she can at least act like an adult about it instead of pushing me away in the workplace. It’s unprofessional.
I take a sharp inhale through my nose and trudge over to her, ignoring her resistance to help. Not because I’m doing her a favor, but because this isn’t just about what she wants. The whole team function is completely reliant on everyone doing their job. My job involves working closely with her, so she’ll just have to get over herself.
I’m fully fuming when I sit down next to her, but she scoots over to allow room for me to see the code she has across her laptop screen, and I think I take that as a kind gesture. It’s not, but everything between us feels weird, so I’ll take what I can get. Even if it’s not really anything at all. Work is my only priority, and though this causes a strange turning in my stomach to think about, I can’t read into how my body responds to such things.
Scout was never mine, so I just have to stop thinking about kissing her perfect lips, touching her soft, warm skin, or taking her home with me because clearly, she’s jumped ship. Either I sink with it or swim away. I am trying to swim away, but it certainly feels like sinking, and I can’t understand why.
“So, what’s the diagnosis?” One of the guys asks from behind me, though I haven’t even truly looked at the coding. I’ve just been stuck in my head while staring at a screen.
“Uhm.” I clear my throat to stall while quickly reviewing it. “You deleted one of the input entries.” I point to it, and he bends down, squinting at the screen.
“Oh. That’s odd.”
“I wouldn’t say, odd, but definitely a silly mistake.”