nevertheless~

part 12

TESSA'S POV

It's just been 10 minutes since he left the building, but not seeing his broad shoulder and body, clad in the black shirt he wore, makes something shift in the room. It's the lack of oxygen suddenly like everything feels suffocating.

"Do you want me to check the fire alarm before we leave?", Ichor tries his hand at a small talk, but I only shake my head in rejection to his question. I had to push him away, I couldn't allow this situation to get between us, so near the investor trip. I've struggled too much to get this chance to go on this France trip, and if my mother finds out that I'm not going alone, but with a boyfriend who works with me, she will rain my body in bruises, black, purple, green.

"How far did he finish the presentation?", I ask, Ichor, not moving my head from my screen. Ichor is the least interesting person, and the truth be told, I don't even like him. I just said that to get rid of Hardin and his adamant want to go on a date with me.

"He almost did everything he had to, just my part of the work is remaining and in some of his slides, we need to add the comparative balance for the production cost", see this is the problem! This is what makes Hardin so much more attractive to me, he even is perfect in his work.

"Alright, you can leave then too, I'll sit back and finish his part", I tell Ichor. I really do want him to go. He obviously likes me, but I don't and the fact doesn't loom far away, that Hardin is not here and Ichor might want to try something on me. I am more than capable to handle myself; my dancer's bones have not yet lost their ability to kick some balls.

"Sure", he gives me one-word answers and suddenly, my previous thought feels sour. He doesn't like me then? That's fantastic, the last thing I need is two men crushing on me at the same time, both of whose feelings I cannot reciprocate.

"Good night", I answer and continue my typing as he leaves the office floor. A sigh of relief goes through my lips at the thought of losing at least some nerves. This is nice, this quiet and solitude are good. There's nobody here, just me and my laptop on which I am finishing the last of my presentation too. I am in the least way excited about the France trip.

It's an escape. A door I can run past, to forget about my family for a while. The sick father, laying in his bed at my mother's house. My mother has sheltered the said sick father because someone needs to take his legacy. My brother loves me so much but lives so far. And a looming marriage proposal on my head by Zed's family.

It was after I landed a job in Seattle here, that Zed's family asked if I liked their son. I said no, but Carol had said yes and so they asked.

"If Theresa, ever feels like it, we can maybe see if the two kids want to turn their fondness to something more?", his mother had said feeling so happy that her utterly unlikeable son found someone to like.

Zed was the perfect version of the stupid oaf you find in school and college. One who changes girls every night, reeks of beer. Stands at bars and fights men who have no business with him. Slut shames the same girls who slept with him one night ago if they don't again. And is just absolutely terrible, plot twist, his father somehow landed him in a professional football team and now they both sleep on beds made of dollar bills. Which is why Carol said yes and I said no.

So, France is an escape. One wherein the mornings I will be working, like a dedicated woman who needs to settle this job she has. And on this night, I will enjoy French life. One where nobody holds my leash.

I run my finished project once in front of my eyes and when I feel satiated with what I have made. I save the file, mail a copy to Jonathan and one to Hardin for safety purposes.

"Can you mail me mine?", he replies back and the simple question makes me smile. I would love to go through his laptop.

"Does your laptop have a password?", I reply to him.

"No". Only a psychopath will not have a password on his laptop, he definitely is a psychopath if I've ever seen one. A green-eyed, black-shirted, fucking handsome psychopath.

"I'll mail myself, that way it'll be in your inbox", I answer and go over to his side of the desk, which is a total opposite of mine. Everything smells of him. Does he put perfume on his desk and drawers?

My fingers are fast to switch open his laptop but when I go to enter, I am met with a 'you cannot enter this device'. Asshole.

"It has a fingerprint lock?", I ask.

"Yes, it does. Fine try other ways, I'll change the password", he replies.

"What's it?".

"02051219", is what I get.

That's his birth date, February 05, but my nosy mind can't help but wonder what's 1219? Maybe his brother's birthdate? My question gets answered when I find a picture of the two Scotts smiling at the camera, sitting on a Harley Davidson bike. I've only seen Hardin smile twice properly, he barely properly laughs either, however, this picture makes a churn of hormones happen in the pit of my stomach. He's dressed in a simple white shirt, which by the fit of it, seems a little bit too nice on him and black jeans. And in front sits a boy, Smith, with the short frame, wearing a matching white shirt and blue shorts with shoes hanging. He is so cute.

"Did you go to the bathroom?", my mail rings and I am snapped back into reality.

"No, I just didn't read the texts", I push back my questions about these Adora-boys and I let my fingers find his mails inbox and mail the work he did to myself and then Jonathan too. I don't know how he's feeling about my rejection, but I had to do it. I don't want to drag Hardin into the family mess I face. My last relationship with Nash was eclipsed by Carol and so I don't want a relationship anymore, ever.

I remember, that day she almost picked the vase to hit my back with it after Nash visited the first time, but Adam saved me. That day too and even now he does. However, he couldn't save me the time she broke my leg, for choosing to take part in my dance competition over going on a date with Zed. I was hospitalized for 2 months and it was at that time, that I decided to give up on dancing. Life mattered more to me than dancing. I needed to live for doing even the bare minimum, you cannot have huge dreams when you are striving to just survive.

The illusions of a dream I had of being a professional dancer, opening my own studio, teaching kids, anyone really, learning more stories on why people dance; had slowly started to drift apart as my leg was put in a cast and hung above the bed and I had nothing to live for. No dream, no road map of life, nothing. No one visited me. Not a soul other than the doctor

Theresa Young then used to live and breathe dancing. My legs would not need music to pick to beat, they wouldn't need a rhythm to follow, it was in my bones. I could dance to the honking of cars in traffic, the keys of a keyboard pressing but now, I won't even acknowledge if music is playing in distance. To say the least, I loved dancing.

My phone chimes again and I hear the alarm ring and bring me out of my sappy story rundown. My alarm tells me, it's time to go home, so my fingers are quick to shut everything I opened on his laptop, and then again, I come across the screensaver of the two brothers smiling. Shit. Why does a picture of him cause me to have butterflies?

And before I can think why I am doing this; I have my camera out and open and I take a picture of his screensaver. It's too cute a picture to not have and besides, he's not here to see it and it's not like he'll know. I'll just use this on him, bribe him into buying me coffee or lunch. Our playful banter doesn't have to go away because of one kiss. We had a great dynamic, between us, partners when needed to be, and fair co-workers.

I pack my bag, the last of my things and leave the office. I try to get an Uber for 10 minutes when one finally comes and I take a nap on the way back home. I really am looking forward to France. I need a break, and even though, we will be working for 3 weeks, six hours each day, at least, I won't be doing this each day. Get up, get uber, work, leave, get uber, go home, eat sleep, at least, my life cycle won't be this.

Nevertheless, the havoc I am trying to get rid of will catch up to me some way or the other.