Chapter 49

Chapter 49
Aurelia's POV

The elevator doors eventually slid open with a soft ding that rang a little too loudly through the empty hallway.

"Okay," I breathed to myself, stepping out as the tag on my chest bobbled up and down as if urging me along. The carpet under the soles of my shoes was thin and springy, not luxury-class, but neat enough that I didn't have to worry about tripping.

There were arrows on the wall that indicated left and right, and I headed in that direction as if the arrowheads themselves understood what they were doing.

My stomach growled. Of course, I hadn't had breakfast. Typical me.

There was a woman sitting behind a desk at the other end of the hall, drumming her fingers on the keyboard. She had colored nails, light pink, bordering on the color of the gum in her mouth. She looked up and smiled for an instant.

"Hi, can I help you?"

"I'm here for the internship," I replied, forcing myself not to sound like someone who still really wanted to spin around and go back to bed. "Name's Aurelia. The receptionist downstairs sent me up here," I said, hoping I didn't sound breathless.

She nodded as though she'd been waiting for me for hours. "You can go in. The coordinator will be with you shortly." She gestured with one hand toward a door behind her, the bracelets on her wrists jingling.

“Thanks," I said. I pushed open the door, and a softly lit room greeted me. It had a light smell of paper and something light, maybe perfume or one of those plug-in room sprays people used in their office.

There were rows of desks against the walls, most of which were empty except for the soft glow of monitors. A stack of binders sat on a shelf. I took a corner chair because corners were safe, dumped my bag on the floor, and sat down.

My phone buzzed just then. I pulled it out, saw a notification from one of those school group conversations I didn't really care about, and turned silent mode on. I rested my chin on my hand and gazed at the blank white wall in front of me, which for some reason brought up this weekend's wedding. Great. The one thing I was trying to drive out of my head.

Ivy and Killian. Their names stuck in my head like annoying pop-ups that won't go away. I told myself not to think about it. Spoiler: didn't work.

The door at the far end of the room creaked open. A man strode in with a radiant, effortless grin.

"I'm Dr Yusuf," he said. He has an Arabian accent. He moved towards me, lanky and loose, olive complexion, closely shaved beard, dark eyes glinting in the fluorescent light. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows as if he were going to actually work, not just tell people to do it.

"Welcome to being the new intern," he told me, shaking my hand. "Did you make it here all right?"

"Yes," I said, shaking his hand and hoping he couldn't tell just how cold mine was. My heart thumped like it was auditioning to be in a drumline.

"Great. Come on board with the petroleum-geology crew." He motioned me to follow him. "Lots of work is in store for this month. You'll see how exploration data is converted to field work. We're also dealing with Saudi Arabian partners, so you'll experience that aspect."

"Sounds good," I said, my go-to answer when I didn't quite understand something yet.

We followed a broad hallway lined with maps under frames. Vibrant colors stacked upon one another as if somebody had lost control with highlighters, squiggly lines tracing across every single one. I pretended to read them despite the fact that most of it resembled secret code.

He stopped before a glass door and tapped a badge against a panel. The lock clicked, and we moved into a big room. Desks filled the room, monitors glowing with maps of oil basins. Big screens showed graphs I couldn't even begin to interpret. The air smelled faintly of coffee and printer ink—my two favorite smells, a perfect pairing.

“This is our operations floor,” he said. “We handle reservoir studies, seismic data, and drilling reports. You’ll work with the reservoir analysis group. Core samples, mapping, and some lab tests.”

I nodded and trailed behind him from station to station, nodding at individuals who all seemed ten times more assured than I felt.

They smiled obligingly and continued what they were doing.

Dr Yusuf gave me a slim notebook and a badge. "You'll be shadowing Clara this week. She'll show you how to clean core samples and read porosity charts. You'll then help with oil well data."

"Okay," I said, holding on to the notebook like it was evidence I had a place here.

A woman with short hair, was standing beside a desk, smiling. "I'm Clara," she said. "You showed up just in time. We just finished a series of permeability tests."

"Nice to meet you," I replied, not sure what I was supposed to say.

"Come on, and I'll show you around," she said, walking towards a smaller corner filled with rock cylinders labelled with dates.

I followed behind, scribbling notes as she explained how they measured how oil and water moved through tiny pores in rocks. I tried to pretend I kept up, nodding at the right moments even if half of it zipped by me in a straight line.

My stomach growled again at some point, loudly enough that Clara arched an eyebrow.

"Forgot breakfast," I admitted, blushing.

"Happens to all of us," she smiled briefly.

Almost an hour had gone by when Dr Yusuf reappeared, thumbing on a tablet.

"Change of plan," he announced. "We've got visitors this morning—Abu Dhabi investors and a Riyadh partner. I want you to join us for the meeting. I think it will be a good experience."

"Of course," I responded with a smile. "Should I take notes?" I asked, already clutching my notebook as a shield.

"Just take a look," he said to me. "It's fascinating to see how the business side works."

We walked down another corridor, one that was lighter, and into a conference room with large windows and a long conference table. A table of bottled water and coffee cups presided in the center, the kind of setup that made you think serious stuff would happen but probably wouldn't.

Some men in light gray blazers lingered at the back, talking in whispers. One sterner-looking man in a dark blue blazer strolled over to the tablet as if the screen held all the answers. I settled into a seat against the wall as Dr Yusuf greeted the crowd. They started talking about offshore prospects and surveys—terms I had been learning in class but still scribbled down to look busy.

My pen clicked on the page. Maybe I should have packed a snack. Maybe I should have worn different shoes. Maybe I should have stayed in bed—

The door opened again. I looked up.

Killian came in.