Page 36 of Chief-of-Security
“You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to be a female software developer, but I can imagine it hasn’t been easy.” Julian’s voice comes from somewhere near my knees. I open my eyes to find him sitting on the floor, back against the wall, coffee mug cradled in his hands. That T.A.R.D.I.S. mug always seemed so big to me, but it’s dwarfed by his huge hands.
How is it that this giant of a man makes me feel taller and not smaller?
“Do you know how many times in my life I’ve been the only female? There was an after-school computer coding class at my middle school. I was so excited to go. I’d been messing around with my family’s computer for years already, but it was old and slow, and we still had dial-up, even though most of town had gotten broadband already. I didn’t even have my own computer, only my older brother Grady did, since he was in college. I walked in the door to find a group of boys crowded around a monitor playing World of Warcraft, and I knew—I’d found my people.”
The memory is bittersweet. For a moment, I’d been filled with hope that, finally, I’d found people who would understand me. People who would understand what I was talking about and be as excited as me. I’d crept into the room and peered over the shoulder of the boy nearest me. I had no idea where in the game they were—I wasn’t allowed to play it at home—but I itched to join in.
I take another sip of my coffee before continuing. “Except I hadn’t. Yes, we loved the same nerdy shit, but because I didn’t have a penis to measure against theirs, I was always the outsider. It didn’t matter that I was better at coding than all of them, that I finished first in almost every competition. It was always ‘Francesca cheated’ or ‘You went easier on her because she’s a girl.’ Or my favorite, ‘Francesca got easier problems to solve than us.’ It only got worse as I got older. No guy likes being shown up by a woman.”
Julian shifts on the floor. He’s so tall, his legs reach all the way to my chair. “So why won’t you help me? Don’t you want Derek gone if he’s just another dickhead?”
I don’t answer as he raises the mug to his lips. “I’d sure like him gone. And not just for how he treats you.”
“I’m not saying I would be sad if he left Mailbox, Julian. I’m saying I don’t want to be the one to make it happen.” Memories swim through my mind. “My whole life I’ve either been shut out because I don’t fit in, or treated like a…” I search for the right word. “Like a mascot. The token girl. I got some obscure scholarship to go to MIT for being one of the only female software development majors from my state. At my last job, they made this big deal about hiring me. I was the first woman they’d had on this advanced team. They got someone to write a fucking BuzzFeed article about it. And you know what? All it did was put a target on my back. I was always the one they were trying to show up. I couldn’t make a single fucking mistake without someone blasting it out to everyone else. It was exhausting.”
I shift in my chair, pulling a leg up beside me so I can rest my mug on my knee. “At least at Mailbox, Derek is the only one who sees me as a little girl and not a person. I know everyone thinks Mr. Sutton is scary, and he is. But at least he treats all the devs the same, me included. I don’t want to rock the boat now that I’ve found somewhere that I actually enjoy working at, Julian.”
He mulls over my words for a moment, both of us sipping the coffee in silence while my chair starts swinging softly from side to side. I peer over the side of the chair to find Julian’s toes pushing the chair back and forth. His feet must be huge. I hide a grin at the ridiculous thought that pops into my head at the idea of Julian’s big feet being related to other parts of him.
I don’t need to know his shoe size to know what I felt beneath me the other night. Among other things.
I shouldn’t tell him that the reason I’m grumpy is because I haven’t been able to sleep since Friday. That I’ve been staying up until dawn playing games on my computer because every time I close my eyes I see him underneath me, the way he held still for me. How safe and in control I felt with him. How disappointed I am for how the night ended.
“I respect that.” He breaks the silence. “Did you want to hear the other idea I had? You can say no,” he adds, finally meeting my gaze. There’s something vulnerable in his eyes, like my saying yes or no actually matters to him. As if he cares about my opinion. It’s an awful lot like the look in his eyes as he laid on my bed two nights ago.
“Sure, what was your idea? Maybe I’ll forgive you for waking me up if it’s a good one.”
He flinches at my joke. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be up.”
I drop one leg and nudge his calf with my toe. “It’s okay. Tell me your other idea.”
“My buddy Carl owns the gym I go to. He’s toying with the idea of starting a women-only self-defense-slash-boxing class. Would you be interested?” When I say nothing, he keeps talking. “I just thought maybe you wouldn’t be so scared of everything.”
I open my mouth to agree to do it, but snap it shut. Do I want to? Working out has never been my thing. I was the kid who volunteered to keep score to get out of P.E. Athletics and I are not on a first-name basis.
But the idea of feeling strong sparks something inside me. Could I learn how to carry myself the same way Julian does? Like I have a right to take up space no matter where I am? I’ve tried for years to fight my anxiety with my mind and it hasn’t made a difference. Maybe it’s time to try a new tactic.
“Will you be there?”
“Me? Last time I checked, I wasn’t a woman.” He grins at me, and I grin back. “Do you want me there?”
I take time to think before I answer him, not letting the fog pushing at the back of my mind take over. If I say yes, I want it to be because I want to do it. The idea of working out doesn’t appeal to or repel me. But the idea of getting sweaty, my heart pounding, my body flushed and tired with Julian? That idea has my stomach doing flips.
I shake my head, reminding myself that this is fake. Julian is just being protective. Like every other guy I’ve ever been interested in, he doesn’t see me as a woman to be desired. He sees me as a little girl to be protected.
“Can I think about it?” I don’t want to say no, because the idea intrigues me, but I’m scared to say yes because right now all I want is something I won’t get.
“Of course. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Frankie. Except I am going to make you come get breakfast with me.” His voice drops on the last sentence, rumbling through me and sending butterflies rioting in my stomach.
“We just had breakfast.” I wave my empty mug in his direction.
"Coffee is not breakfast." Julian shakes his head. “It’s your birthday—I’m taking you out. It’s Lockwood tradition.” He grins and pushes to his feet. “I’m a big fan of celebrating birthdays, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Standing in front of me, Julian drops his hands to the arms of my chair, pinning me in place. I swallow hard before speaking, turning my empty mug around in my hands. “My family never makes a fuss over birthdays. Nine birthdays a year on a pastor’s salary in Altus, Oklahoma, didn’t leave a lot of money for presents or parties. Davenport birthdays mean getting woken up obnoxiously early to the family singing and then picking what Mom cooks for dinner. Maybe a cake if you're lucky. Are there any other Lockwood traditions I should know about?”
There’s a long moment before Julian speaks. A spark of time where his eyes drag across my face to my lips, and down again to my chest. In my panic to answer the door I hadn’t changed out of my pajamas, and my tank top is not enough to hide the way my nipples tighten. I’ve never spent much energy lamenting my tiny boobs since the rest of me always seemed to be just as lacking in sexual appeal. But as Julian’s eyes drift across my body, I feel the weight of his gaze as it takes me in.
“Personally, I think birthday sex is right up there with make-up sex. But that’s not exactly a tradition as much as it is my favorite way of celebrating.”