Page 36 of Technical Advances

“You’re not reading this wrong, Anson. You’re not reading me wrong. But people will question us. My motives, your intentions. The boss can’t just …” I wanted to say date a junior assistant, but that seemed presumptuous as much as it was where I envisioned our kiss leading. Fuck sounded crass and kiss, too simple.

“Benji, my intentions …”

I interrupted him. “Please don’t. I know. Anson. I know. But what will other people think?”

He spoke plainly, “I don’t generally care about what other people think.”

I smiled at him, thinking about how disheveled he looked in that news article I’d kept on my computer screen. Standing before me, he was much better put together but still essentially the same mad scientist.

“That’s not true, Anson,” I said softly. “You care about New Day. You care about the people in this building, and you very much care about your research and the good it does in the world. You cannot compromise that. I won’t allow it. For what? Some kid …” I straightened my spine and shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for him. I continued before he could contradict me. “Some fresh-out-of-grad-school interloper. Some entry-level employee who people will accuse, whom Beck will accuse, of manipulating you, of using you to get his name on your next project!”

It felt like silence around us even though the printer kept up its work, our work.

Anson turned and walked away from me, pulling his chair out from the desk and slouching into it. He looked at me with that intense focus that I’d come to know meant he was working to solve a problem.

“Please tell me that’s not what’s happening here, Benji? Please tell me that’s not true.”

My hands fisted in my pockets, blunt nails reminding me that caring about this man meant protecting him. I had to be honest. He’d just have to understand that how we were feeling, how I felt about him, wasn’t important.

“Of course it’s not,” I confessed, glad for the desk that divided us.

He nodded, a determined look furrowing his brow as he calculated a solution.

“So we wait until this project’s done. Then you can go work for Morgan in R&D. Or”—he breathed out for a long moment—“or I can provide you with a recommendation to go work … elsewhere.”

I shook my head, vehemently. “No! Please, Anson. NDT has always been the dream for me. I … please … Don’t make me leave you.”

“Leave me?”

“You. New Day. This lab. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Does that include a fling with the boss? With the famous Anson Day?” Anson was looking directly at me, asking a blunt question and demanding an honest answer.

“Anson … I … that’s not what this is about.” My frustration was in direct proportion to his calm. “I mean, maybe, when I was younger. When I was a kid …” I paused, trailing off until I found my words. Anson waited, instinctively understanding that he didn’t need to fill the silence.

“But this thing between us. This connection. It’s real. Isn’t it? I mean, look what we’re accomplishing down here. Look at the amazing things we can do, together.” I sounded desperate.

“We just fit.” He’d summed it up succinctly. Three simple words. So true.

“We do. Or we would. If it weren’t so complicated!” My frustration echoed over the sound of the machinery, our silence filling the room.

I sighed. Anson sighed. We looked at each other.

“Finish this project with me, Benji. You know this is going to work. We can decide your future with the company after that. Okay? Anything you want. Any project! Any department!”

The 3D printer voiced its effort, a crucial piece of our project coming to life in front of me with every slide of the extruder. I turned away from it and away from him.

“Don’t you see,” I whispered. My back was to him, so I said it louder. “Don’t you see, Anson. You can’t say things like that. I’m not special. I’m an entry-level employee, and I need to be treated like one.”

“Not true!” I spun around quickly, surprised, no, shocked at the passion in Anson’s voice.

He lowered it to a whisper. “That’s just not true. Your work is exceptional. You are exceptional. That’s why … I think … No, I know, damn it! This connection, this thing between us.” His hand waved violently as if the torque of it could manifest said thing the same way the printer was spitting out carbon fiber mix.

“We’re alike, you and I. The work, that’s just a part of it. It may have been what brought us together, but don’t you see it was meant to bring us together? We’re meant to be together!”

I wanted that to be true, but I wanted to protect him more. So I said something else that I thought might be true. I couldn’t look at him while I said it, so I inspected the printer once again.

“I worshiped you as a kid. I think I’ve told you that before. I had your picture on my computer screen, and I followed your career. What if … You speak of connection, but what if it’s just a fantasy? My fantasy. What if I’m taking advantage of you?”