Chapter 8
1397 Words
Grace's POV
Both of us wait for our boss to finish his calls. Trace doesn’t stop looking at me. His body is almost turned sideways toward me, making it difficult to ignore him.
In the blink of an eye, he scoots a little closer to whisper in my ear. The first time his breath brushes my skin feels like it’s setting my heart on fire. A shiver creeps over my body as he speaks.
“Uhh… yes.” This time, our boss interrupts us.
“Good morning, sir.” Both of us greet him without delay.
“Morning… uh… yes… please have a seat.”
The boss looks tense. What’s wrong?
“Grace, you’ve already started learning Rust, right?”
Shit! Nooooo.
“Yes, sir, a little bit.” I shift in my seat, crossing my legs—a habit I have when I’m nervous.
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Trace's POV
What’s with the tension in the air? Both of them look uneasy now.
“Grace, I think you both should start learning it more thoroughly. This language is crucial for us, and I need you both to be knowledgeable. It would be appreciated if you could learn it together.”
Wow! I can’t wait to spend time with Grace now. Thank you, my lord.
I notice Grace’s tension fading as she stops pulling at her nails.
“Yes, sir, we’ll do it together.” Grace clenches her jaw, her expression darkening. Is she that mad at me? Even if our minds are working together? I hold my composure and remind myself not to lose hope. That’s the only thing I have left—hope.
“Alright, you both may start working on it right away. The current project will be handled by someone else. I’ll set that up; don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, sir,” I reply. Grace looks lost, as if she’s draining of energy. The boss nods, and I bend forward to get up.
Both of us walk through the corridor in silence. I break the quiet with a hesitant voice, attempting conversation.
“Do you want to take an official course or just learn through online resources like YouTube?”
“I don’t know,” she whispers, but I catch it.
“Um… let’s first try some informational applications, and then we can take the official class. That way, we’ll have proof to show the boss. Does that sound okay?”
She hums in response, which unsettles my heart and dampens my mood.
“How do we do this together?” I ask again as we step into the office.
Without saying a word, she pushes her chair closer to mine, bringing us side by side.
“Okay,” I sigh, turning on my computer.
“What’s wrong?” Grace’s voice catches me off guard. Is she concerned?
“Uh… um, sorry, sir. We can start working now.”
Sorry? Sir? She’s making me feel more distant than before. She used to act this way, always pushing me away.
I don’t respond and simply click on the first relevant link that appears after I type “Rust programming language” into Google.
“If you notice anything important other than what I’m writing, let me know, and I’ll note it down too.”
“Hm.”
I hate when she says that. I used to hate when she typed those ‘hms.’
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Grace's POV
Oh, he doesn’t like ‘hms.’ I’ll try replacing it with “Sorry, yes.”
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Trace's POV
What? She remembers?
I’m confused about how this is going. I try to clear my mind, pulling out a notepad from the drawer and holding a pen to jot down some points.
“How much do you know about the language?” Her eyes lock onto mine, and her scent fills my nostrils, making it hard for me to think straight.
“I actually haven’t learnt anything.”
“Oh.”
I keep my tone and expression neutral to avoid embarrassing her.
“I had so much work to do.”
She continues, but my eyes are eager to hear more of her breathy voice. However, she ends her explanation there.
I place the notepad on the table between us.
The space between our chairs is irritating.
We exchange formalities for a long time, jumping back and forth between links, scrutinizing and finalizing the correct information.
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Grace's POV
His handwriting is terrible.
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Trace's POV
“Yes? Is it right?” I look at Grace to find her smiling. My heart swells with overwhelming bliss. Her smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her upper lip forms a thin line, leaving the spotlight for the lower lip to shine. The little area of her teeth, visible between her lips, glimmers like pearls. Everything about her is stunning.
“What’s so amusing?” I ask.
She stops smiling for a second, realizing I’ve been watching her, but the beautiful curve returns to her face as if she’s trying to control it but failing.
“Your handwriting—it's so bad.”
I didn’t expect her to answer that. Wait, what? My handwriting? What? What the hell? This girl is something else. She turns to the side, hiding her face as she chuckles even more. Her right palm forms a loose fist that she uses to cover her mouth.
Her hands… they’re so perfect.
That was the first thing I noticed about her.
Flashback
(Texts)
Me: You seem busy…
Bye.
Grace: What? I’m not.
I’m talking to you, right?
Me: It’s taking you so long to reply.
Always busy, busy.
Grace: Hey! No… I’m actually at the police station.
Me: Oh god! So now I’m talking to a criminal?
Grace: Huh?
Me: Come on now, apologize.
Grace: I’m sorry, you little kid. I’ll speed up my texts, okay?
Me: No, send me a picture of your hands.
Grace: What? Why?
Me: Come on now.
Don’t freak out.
It’s just a picture of your hands; I’m not asking for more.
And that’ll be your apology.
Grace: Are you serious?
Who asks for pictures of hands like this? What are you going to do with that?
Me: Please… just send.
Grace: God, you’re extremely weird.
Me: Please... I’m waiting.
Grace: I swear if you misuse the pictures…
Me: What can be done with snaps of your hands? Huh?
Attitude?
Grace: That’s what I’m confused about.
Why would you want the pictures?
Me: Just send.
Grace: Ah!
(photo)
(photo)
‘Oh god, when is the passport verification process going to end?!’
‘Ugh.’
End of flashback
Her knuckles are still the most perfect I’ve ever seen. The perfect color, and they still carry that softness. I remember asking her if I could kiss her hands if I ever met her, and she reluctantly said yes. I wish we could talk about those things now, especially with her so close.
I can feel her regaining her posture while my eyes remain glued to her hands.
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Grace's POV
Flashback
(Texts)
Trace: Your hands are so beautiful.
They look so fluffy.
And your knuckles… perfect color.
Me: It’s just hands…
Trace: Would you let me hold them, kiss them?
Me: What?
Trace: I’m asking if you’d let me kiss your hands… not your lips. I wouldn’t mind, though.
Me: Umm?
End of flashback
My hands…
Suddenly, he looks at me. He seems about to say something but tightens his lips and turns back to the computer. I do the same, and we return to our formal exchanges. After a while, he asks if I need a break, and I nod in response. I lean back in my chair and rest against the backrest. I almost drift off to sleep when he speaks.
“Your name is still my favorite. Grace Montess. I knew you’d be beautiful because of your name, but now I know it’s you who made the name special… for me.”
He leaves the cabin after whispering those last two words, nearly inaudible. This is the second time today he…
The first was in the CEO’s office: “Your fabric covers such a beautiful waist.”
A tear escapes my eye, conflicted. What happened to us? We never had anything to begin with, so why does it hurt so much? Why did we have to stop? I missed him so much…
~~~
- Writer
