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SPRING SUMME R FALLING | 5

I can tell that he is a nice person in general because he doesn’t tell me to get lost
or call me a crazy cat lady. I don’t have a cat. I did strongly consider getting one
after my boyfriend of three years suddenly broke up with me. I don’t remember
exactly what he said because my ears were burning with anger, but the gist of it was
my quirkiness is embarrassing, and I am chubby. I scoffed when he told me; he was

judging my body and last I checked, there weren’t any fitness posters of his skinny
ass anywhere. Anyway, I digress – Henri or hopefully, Henry is just nodding with
a grin like an adult listening to a toddler’s story. I doesn’t help that I am five-two
and he is about nine inches taller than me. I feel small in more ways than one.
His lips are moving, but I don’t understand anything he is saying. Of course,
he would know French. Henri’s attractiveness increased an additional ten points.
His grin deepens before he translates.

“I said, ‘Maybe all you need is more practice.’” I shake my head emphatically.
“No, trust me. I took years of Spanish in different forms – classroom and
immersion – and I can understand it, read it, and write it. I just cannot speak it.” I
look at my shoes sadly. “I so wanted to be bilingual.”
A placating hand rests on my shoulder. It is warm and surprisingly comforting.
I don’t expect the gesture to make me feel safe and somewhat validated, but it does.
“On the plus side, you are biliterate. Not many people can say that, you know.”

My smile is big and ignorant. “You’re right. Thank you.” His amber eyes travel
my body, taking in my attire while I do my best to appear – hashtag unbothered –
by his scrutiny. He smirks as if remembering an inside joke before he speaks.
“Here I am learning all there is to know about the abilities of your tongue…”
His eyes slide down to my lips briefly before returning to my eyes. I instantly realize
that I feel some type of way about him mentioning my tongue, but I can’t quite

pinpoint the exact emotion. I just know that my heart flutters. It takes a moment
for my brain to process the rest of his sentence. “Yet, I still don’t know your name.”
Ah…right. I forgot. I’m not the most popular person at the office. Almost no
one wants to hang out with HR on purpose. To them, I am just another faceless
name attached to an email or memo no one wants to receive.
“You are an engineer to the core. Details matter. I’m Sanya,” I say. “Sonia?” he
questions. This is a common mistake. I am used to it. I patiently shake my head
because, hell, I can’t say his name at all.