"Bloody passwords!"

I hate the things, and I can never seem to retain them in my brain. You need them to access every part of your life these days - banking, shopping, working - and they're all meant to be different, and you're not meant to write them down. I frequently have to reset passwords as I can't remember them, and even more frequently get locked out of my accounts.

Which is what I've already managed to do on only day 3 of my new job. Great work, Skye!

Believe it or not, however, this is actually the very first glitch I've experienced in those three days. So far, Tornado Skye has not made an appearance. And I'm actually almost enjoying the work so far. I'm sure the novelty will wear off fast, though!

My colleague Sylvia glances over at my screen and grimaces sympathetically. "You'll need to contact I.T.," she advises. "Extension 340."

Great. I hate phone calls almost as much as I hate passwords. Sighing, I punch the number into my desk phone, scrolling through Instagram on my mobile as it rings. And rings. 

And rings some more.

I'm about to give up when someone finally answers. "I.T., Ross speaking." The male voice on the other end of the line seems to be struggling to breathe.

"Have I interrupted you in the middle of a marathon?" I can't help but ask. The guy - Ross - chokes out a laugh between breaths.

"We were having an egg and spoon race," he says finally, much to my surprise. "A bit of a team bonding activity. Oh God, please tell me this isn't the CEO I'm speaking to!"

"That would be a pretty impressive promotion given that I've only been here three days." I find myself giggling. "I'm only phoning because I forgot my password and locked myself out of my account."

"Phew! Okay, just give me a second to recover, and I'll get your password reset for you."

One of my many curses is that I've always felt the need to fill a silence. This is why I find myself saying, as I listen to his breathing slowing down: "I'm starting to feel like I'm on a dirty call here." As soon as I say it, my hand flies to my mouth. And Sylvia nearly spits her coffee out.

But this doesn't seem to faze him. "I don't know you well enough for that," he tells me, but I feel like I can somehow hear the smile in his voice. And it's a nice voice, with a warm undertone that makes me feel . . . Things.

So then I have to remind myself not to fall in love with a disembodied voice. Not again. (Yes, fourteen year old me thought I was in lurve with the local radio DJ and his dulcet tones . . . Until I saw a photo of him and realised where the phrase "a face for radio" came from! It was a massive wake-up call for me and gave me temporary trust issues.)

"I'm so sorry," I apologise quickly. Even though he's clearly taken my words as a joke, I still don't want to burn any bridges - especially not with I.T. "I'm terrible for just blurting shit out and not thinking before I speak."

"You're okay. Honestly. If anything, you've brightened up my day. But, I guess we'd best get back to business - I have an egg and spoon title to defend after all." I can hear him typing. "What's your name?"

"Skye Templeton."

"Oh, are you named after . . ."

"I see where you're going here, and I'm going to have to cut you off. No, my parents did not call me after the famous porn star, Skye Blue." Sylvia's eyes are like saucers now.

The laugh is back. "Actually, I was going to ask if it was Sky Mangel from Neighbours."

"My mum actually is a massive fan of that show," I tell him. "But, if you were actually going to ask if it was after the island, you'd be right. My mum grew up in Portree. I just get so sick of people asking me that! Or singing The Skye Boat Song."

"Luckily, I can't hold a tune, so you're spared that torture." I hear typing again. "Okay, I've changed your password temporarily to Skyeblue123 - want to see if you can get logged in okay now?"

"I've gotta say I feel really weird typing a porn star name into my work computer," I mutter as I type. "This seems to go against all types of protocol."

"Of course, you're going to change it straight away now that you're back in your account, right?" His voice is suddenly stern. And almost familiar. He probably reminds me of a teacher.

"Aw, but this one is so easy to remember!" I wail wistfully. "Passwords are such a minefield now. I remember when you used to be able to just type a random word, add a 1 on the end, and that was it. And you could use the same one for everything. It was a simpler time."

"Okay, grandma, but times have changed," he sniggers. "Listen, I know it's a pain in the arse but can you just make a new one already, since I did you a favour just now?"

"Fine." I reluctantly click on the option to reset my password. "I'm pretty sure you were just doing your job rather than a favour, though, so I'm only doing this because I'm a very nice person."

"And I appreciate that." His voice softens. "Now, is there anything else I can help you with, or can I get back to my important non-work duties now?"

Part of me wishes I did have another issue that Ross could assist me with; it's been a long time since I enjoyed a phone call this much, and I could happily talk to him for longer. "I think I'm good now," I tell him. "You're officially released from your actual work."

"Nice talking to you, Skye."

"Likewise. Thanks, Ross. Good luck with your race!"

When I hang up the phone, Sylvia is gaping at me. "That was Ross you were talking to?" She asks in disbelief. "Ross Macallister?"

"I don't know his last name, but if there's only one Ross, then I guess so?" I shrug. "Why?"

"He's just usually so . . . Quiet," Sylvia remarks. "He's a good-looking boy, but he just doesn't engage much." She rolls her eyes. "Many of the girls have tried, trust me. He started a couple of months ago, and I've never witnessed so many people with computer issues since. Last week, I actually caught Kylie over there deliberately pulling cables out the back of her hard drive so I.T. would have to visit."

"That's ridiculous," I comment. I'd probably just spill a drink over my keyboard. And not on purpose.

"Joke was on her, anyway. They sent Gareth down instead to help her, and he . . ." Sylvia grimaces. "Let's just say he's pretty much the exact opposite of Ross. In all ways."

Laughing, I decide it's about time I get down to work. But somehow, for the rest of the day, I can't help but remember the warmth in Ross Macallister's voice. And I find myself wondering on more than one occasion what he looks like. And if he's single . . .