⸻ ONE ⸻

Standing out like a boner at a pool party isn’t something you’d want on your first day of work.

That truth comes to me as I rush into the building, surrounded by somber-looking business men and women. With all those very serious, very professional people, I feel like an awkward teenager again–lost, confused, and underdressed. But I’m essentially wearing the standard programmer’s attire, so it should be fine. The drawing of the Hulk with a massive “HULK SMASH!” printed on my T-shirt aren’t that bad, right?

Shit, they might fire me before I even reach my desk.

With a nervous energy buzzing inside me, I let myself be guided by the crowd of lawyers, traders, and other suit-wearing people walking through the lobby.

When I reach the elevators, I rush to the one that’s the closest to this floor. From the second sublevel to here, it shouldn’t take long to arrive. I’m not the only pragmatic person here, as many people soon join me in my wait for the doors to open.

The stainless steel panels part with an elegant ‘ding,’ and everyone rushes into it at once. Since I’m on the front line, I’m unceremoniously pushed inside, barely having time to glimpse at the few people already in there. Miraculously, I manage to press the button for my floor before being shoved further into the confined space.

As the angry mob keeps pushing me in, I can’t even glimpse at the person I’m about to bump into. Then, just as I successfully stop before that happens, an elbow is shoved into my back. I’m pushed against the stranger, and my hand instinctively reaches up to secure my balance. Maybe the solid plane of a stomach isn’t the best way to level myself, but there is no other option. That’s when I realize it’s a man; a very fit man.

“I’m so sorry,” I mumble as I remove my hands, quickly glimpsing up at him. He doesn’t even bother looking down, but his face distracts me from that fact.

Shit.

He’s hot.

Like, damn…

Before I can properly take in his features, other than the intense eyes, square jaw, dark hair, and stubble, I’m pushed onto him again, probably by the same elbow. Goddamn, that is one muscular chest.

“Will you stop shoving, please?” I frustratedly ask, twisting around the best I can. Then I mumble to myself, “People have no notion of personal space.”

“They don’t.”

That comes from the sexy stranger against me. Of course, his voice is alluring as well. Low, a little husky, as though he just woke up. Who the fuck is this man?

His eyes are on me this time, but they don’t stay there for long, and he quickly looks ahead again. Finally, the doors close, and gravity increases as we rise to the upper floors, providing little distraction from the warm body I’m flushed against.

“I’m sorry for being in yours,” I say with a wince. “Personal space, I mean.”

With a barely perceptible shrug, he answers a vague, “It’s fine.”

Since he isn’t paying attention to me, I discreetly peek at him. Like my abuela always says, the least we can do when God provides eye candy is appreciate it. He seems to be in his early to mid-thirties, tall and imposing, which is like a magnet for shorter women like me. I never really got why. Maybe a deeply rooted need to be protected, dating back to when men had to fend off wild animals.

When I look down again, my mind is out of the gutter enough to notice his simple gray T-shirt, which comforts me in my choice of attire. Although it isn’t a tight fit, I can guess at the broadness of his chest underneath, as well as the muscular pecs.

The elevator keeps halting and resuming its course. At that rhythm, it’ll take ages to get to my floor. The man against me makes me grow embarrassingly hot, which might leave me sweaty. Seriously, my body picked the stupidest time to begin noticing men’s physiques.

As someone with a low sex drive, I’m never attracted to someone at first sight. So I don’t understand why my stomach flutters every time I peer up at the stranger. Maybe I just never met the right men until now.

Something jolts between us, and I freeze, my eyes going huge. That most definitely came from his crotch area. What the–

“Excuse me,” he says, and before I can assume it’s over his embarrassing bodily reaction, he reaches for his pocket, his hand gliding over the front of my T-shirt. As the tips of my breasts feel compelled to react to the platonic touch, I’m reminded that wearing a padded bra is useful for more than tricking people into thinking I’m a B-cup.

He takes his phone out, and I understand it buzzed between us. Because of the lack of space, he doesn’t have much choice but to settle it in a way that allows me to glimpse at it as well. He unlocks the screen to check the text he received and–

Holy fuck.

It’s a nude.

The man instantly locks the screen again, but it’s too late; I had a good glimpse at the scandalously steamy picture he received. The platinum blonde, mid-twenties goddess in it was in a very suggestive pose, showing off a fantastic pair of tits and a toned stomach. Some women are bold . I could never have the courage for it, but great for her.

What a way to begin my first day of work.

Since the situation is rather comical, a laugh bubbles in my chest, but I do everything I can to quench it. If that’s his standards, he’s definitely not getting a boner over me. Andy, you cretin. You look like an underdressed imp.

I’m slowly accepting my terrible fate–being pressed against this dashing guy for the rest of eternity–when the space clears a little. We aren’t intimately flushed together now. Upon noticing the next stop is mine, I look up one last time to give the man an apologetic smile. His eyes lower to mine, and then he glimpses at my T-shirt.

Fuck, today is really not my day.

Because humor is my best defense against embarrassment, my brain automatically goes there. “That was a lot of fun, but let’s never do that again,” I joke. Yeah… That was terrible.

To my relief, the semblance of a smile stretches the man’s lips, and, ah… He truly is devastatingly handsome.

“Let’s not,” he answers, his baritone voice doing something primal to my insides.

The doors finally open for me, and before I can melt into a puddle at his feet, I wiggle my way out of this tedious hell. Once out, I take a deep breath, my lungs filling with fresh air again. Using the stairs next time comes to mind, but I’m too out of shape for that.

The ass those stairs would give me, though.

After a quick look to assess my surroundings, I silently rejoice when a couple of guys pass by wearing casual clothes. After a moment of observing the people walking and going, I remember I’m a girl on a mission.

Behind the reception desk is a gorgeous blonde typing on a laptop. Her makeup skills are out of this world, and she emanates something intimidating, especially with her septum piercing. I stare at her for a moment, mustering the courage to go there. This job is making me more nervous than any other I’ve had. By the time I reach her, I feel like an Oompa-Loompa and wish I knew how to do more than eyeliner, mascara, and the occasional lipstick.

I stand there, smiling awkwardly, but she doesn’t notice me, absorbed by whatever she is typing on her MacBook. So, I clear my throat to make my presence known. She immediately lifts her eyes to me, and her gaze moves up and down my frame as one of her perfectly drawn eyebrows rises slightly. It’s impossible to tell if she’s judging or assessing me.

“Welcome to Kelex. How may I help you?”

“Hi,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “I start today, and I’m wondering if you could give me some directions.”

“Yes, of course. What’s your name, and what department will you work in?”

“I’m Andy–Andrea, sorry! Andrea Walker,” I correct myself. “And I’m with the development team.”

The woman frowns and looks up from her screen. “You’re Andy Walker.” I nod, surprised my name means something to her. “We weren’t expecting–We thought you were…a man.”

I do my best to look innocent, batting my eyes at the receptionist when, in fact, I did my best to keep the lines blurred. Anything to make sure I’d get my dream job. Because it really is my dream job. At twenty-six, I reached my professional peak. Perfect position, perfect company, perfect city.

Well, maybe Seattle isn’t the perfect city. It’s too far north to be anywhere near perfect. But I would say it is convenient. Knowing my family is only three hours away in Portland–if my car survives the trip–is reassuring.

The receptionist apparently realizes she is staring and shakes her head to snap out of it. “Sorry, you just really surprised me there. The nerds from dev have been talking about you a lot. Your performance during the tests impressed them. I doubt they expect you to be a woman. And you coming on your first day wearing this,” she explains with a soft laugh, pointing at my shirt. “They will all be at your feet by the end of the day.”

I smile humbly, definitely reassured now. We, nerdy geeks, are pretty serious about our superheroes, and Bruce Banner is the OG.

The woman stands up, and she’s much taller than me, which isn’t hard at five-foot-two-and-a-half. The blonde extends her hand, a kind smile on her lips. “I’m Dakota. I work with the graphic design team. Our receptionist called in sick this morning, and I picked the short straw. I’ll take you to the Troll’s Lair.” With a gesture, she invites me to follow her.

Most of the floor is open space, with a few closed offices. The desks are huge, and everyone has plenty of room to move around. The whole place is very bright, with vivid hues here and there.

As we journey through the floor, my mind drifts back to the attractive man in the elevator. My front is still warm, as if the ghost of his presence lingers on me. Unless he’s only visiting, we’ll probably see each other again in future elevator rides. One more reason to look forward to coming to work.

We get to a closed part of the floor and stop before a glass door. I smile at the various notes taped on it.

Don’t tap the glass, it scares the geeks

, one reads.

Please, don’t feed the trolls. They are on a special diet

, says another one, and under, someone added with a ballpoint pen,

of Cheetos and Red Bulls

. Then,

Do not trespass during CS sessions. Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again–then Steven might T-Bag them

. That last one makes me chuckle, and I know I’ll like these guys.

“Are you ready?” Dakota asks, her hand on the handle. Taking a deep breath, I nod, telling myself I will do just fine.

With great energy, she pushes the door open. “Listen up, you bunch of animals!” she announces as we enter. The five men sitting inside lift their heads from their computers, glancing in our direction. “This is Andrea Walker, AKA’ Andy with the good scripts,’ as you brainiacs have been calling her for the past three weeks.” The nickname makes me grin with pride. I might not have good hair most times, but at least I have good scripts.

Several jaws drop when their owners see me. It seems that hiding the fact that I have boobs and a vagina is more of a scam than I thought.

“You virgins might not be used to it, but yes, this is a female specimen of our species,” Dakota tells them with an eye roll. Her jab works like a charm.

“Right. Sorry, we weren’t expecting you to be…a woman,” says one of them. Slender and tall, he’s wearing a plaid shirt. He seems to be in his late twenties, with ginger hair, light brown eyes, and freckles. In a boyish kind of way, he’s charming.

I give him an apologetic shrug, biting back a chuckle. I’ll fit in just right with these socially awkward guys. “Yeah, I gathered that much.”

“I’ll let the boss know you’ve arrived,” he offers, sitting back at his desk and quickly typing something.

The next one who speaks, the only one who looks over thirty, is a broad man with an impressive beard, brown hair tied in a ponytail, and glasses. “I expected you to have a beard.”

“I have one, but you’ll never get to see it,” I joke.

The instant the words leave my lips, I regret them. I freeze, hating myself for my desperately inappropriate humor.

With a brown Latina as a mom, one might expect that I can’t easily blush. But I’m not so blessed, closer to my father’s German heritage when it comes to carnation. So when heat creeps up my face, I know I’m crimson.

Stupid sense of humor!

They stare at me, as shocked as I am, and no one speaks for what seems to be minutes but is probably ten seconds. Next to me, Dakota tries to hold back her laughter.

A blond guy raises his hands to sign a question to his colleagues. Thankfully, I’m familiar with American Sign Language, so I’m able to follow what’s happening. “I didn’t get that. What did she say?”

“She told Steven he would never get to see her beard,” someone signs back.

At this moment, I want nothing else but for the ground to open under my feet and swallow me right into oblivion. Is my terrible joke really worth repeating?

Utterly shocked, the guy who asked stares at me, and after a moment, a broad smile spreads on his face. He explodes with a fit of laughter, which prompts Dakota to stop holding hers back. Soon enough, the others follow as I wait for them to calm down.

When she regains control of her breathing, Dakota wipes a tear that has gathered in the corner of her eye, careful not to smudge her makeup, before patting my shoulder. “Yeah, you’ll do great. They constantly make dick jokes around each other. It’s about time someone introduced them to vagina ones.”

“We weren’t prepared,” the ginger says. “Consider us warned from now on.” The others nod, confirming his statement.

The glass door opens next to Dakota and me, distracting the room from my embarrassing moment. Everyone’s focus shifts to the newcomer, so I turn around too. When I see the man standing in the doorframe, my breath catches in my throat.

Holy mother of God…

So, he works here, after all.

⸻

Yep, this is happening.

You can find the original story on my profile, and it’ll stay there the whole time. There will be two to three updates per week, so you guys can catch up fast. This version is shorter and has a better pace, better character consistency, fewer mistakes or typos… Basically, It’s a polished version of the mammoth I started posting in 2019.

Please, don’t complain if you notice a scene that’s gone. I had to make choices and trust me when I say it wasn’t easy. To make up for it, though, you’ll see there are new scenes and dialogues! Anyhow, I’ll see you guys in the comments!

Love,

Darla

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/c3c5be4e255a350e90f58d45cea84bd1fa2a7ac7/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f596f50652d6d36554539547652413d3d2d313430313836343837332e313739636662333362643630346436313434333636303831333436302e6a7067)

⸻ TWO ⸻

I stare at the man standing by the door, my brain malfunctioning so hard I can’t even think of closing my gaping mouth.

That’s the elevator guy! He’s right there, still dashing, all tall and sexy. He doesn’t notice me right away, since I’m standing to the side, so I use this opportunity to observe his features.

There’s no way two humans conceived the level of perfection that is his face. He has a sharp jaw, covered with a three-day-old stubble. His short, dark hair is a little messy, as if he only took the time to run his fingers through it this morning. The thick lines of his eyebrows are resting under a flat forehead, and underneath them, two narrow eyes. Between those, the bridge of a straight, perfectly balanced nose, and lower, a pair of lavish lips, a shade darker than his skin, with a touch of pink.

He has a pair of reading glasses tucked into the collar of his shirt now, and I somehow crave to see him with those on. The man has something clever about him, but with those on, he must look like a nerdy genius.

His sharp gaze quickly scans the room, and I nearly avert mine when it reaches me, embarrassed to have been caught staring. Thank God I’m not drooling, but close call. My presence perplexes him for a second, his brows frowning over his inquisitive eyes, but he dismisses me and returns his attention to the guys.

“Oliver, you told me Andy arrived?”

Oh, wow. Oh, shit. This is the boss. He is the boss. The guy I lusted after in the elevator is my new boss. Creating fantasies of your superior as soon as you meet him has got to be the worst way to start a new job.

Dakota smiles, visibly entertained by this whole gender confusion. “Yes, she has.”

He processes her words, and something lights up in his eyes when he understands. Next thing I know, his attention is back on me, seeing me in an entirely new light. Under his authoritative stare, I regret hiding my gender from the company. Something like this might actually piss off some people. But coding is a man’s world. The whole world is, really, but application and software development is even more so. It’s only normal that I kept this whole gender thing undefined, so the odds would be in my favor.

Now that they have seen me, they can’t fire me for the sole reason that I lack Y chromosomes. Not without risking the motherload of all lawsuits.

When he’s done examining me, I embarrassingly wave with a faint, “Hi.”

“You’re not an Andrew.”

I bite the inside of my cheek at his icy tone, suppressing my urge to give him a lesson in manners. “No, I’m an Andrea.”

His jaw clenches slightly, and after an instant, he turns to the oldest of the guys. “You owe me ten bucks. She doesn’t have a beard.”

“Actually–”

As soon as I realize what he’s about to say, I panic and let out a loud, forced laugh, determined not to let him repeat my stupid joke. Not a third time, and not in front of that man. “Haha! Yeah, no! No beards here!”

The others do their best to contain their mild amusement while the elevator guy–boss–stares at me as if my IQ is in the negatives. Today is not my day. I can’t catch a break.

“Well, as entertaining as this is, I have to leave you nerds,” Dakota explains, freeing us from the awkward tension. “But before I go, Andy, this is Alexander Coleman, head of development, co-owner of the company, killer of joy. Lex, this is Andrea Walker, your newest full-stack developer, vagina-bearer, and slayer of scripts. Now that I’ve done my part, I’m out.”

So, he isn’t just in a high position; he co-owns the whole thing. He doesn’t strike me as the type of person who’d start such a selfless firm.

Kelex aims to simplify the lives of several disabled communities through specialized apps, operating systems, and other various software. Their goal is to allow everyone to experience the perks of technology equally. And that means everyone–people with hearing or visual impairments, wheelchair users, those who suffer from a debilitating medical condition, neurodiversity… Kelex includes as many people as possible.

Once the door closes behind Dakota, the broody hunk tells me to choose one of the free desks. When I reach for the empty one just in front of me, he stops me with a harsh command.

“This one’s mine. Pick another one.” I nod, clenching my teeth so I won’t say something about his abrasive manners. Dismissing my ire, I turn to another spot and settle my bag on the seat. When I spin back to the boss, he’s looking at me with an intense, disapproving stare.

His confusion about my appearance is becoming offensive. I clear my throat, hoping it’ll snap him out of it. “I didn’t expect you to be so…” he trails off, looking for the right word.

“Womanly?”

“Young. From your results, I expected someone with at least a decade in the field. How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. I have been coding for a little over sixteen years now, so I do have a decade of experience–just not in the field.”

He appears unimpressed. “Having fun setting up a website for you and your friends is nothing like what we do here.”

A twinge of anger rises in me. What the hell! My eyes narrow, displeased by the knowledge that I’ll have to work under this man’s supervision. “I can assure you I am well aware of that,” I say with my best diplomatic voice. “As you may have seen with the tests–the ones I aced to get here–I’m quite competent.”

One of his eyebrows moves up arrogantly. “Are you sure no one helped you with those? Like a friend or your older brother?”

Oh, now he is asking to be put back in his place. I violently quench my urge to react to his provocation and try to keep an amiable facade. I’m not into letting people walk all over me, but I really want this job, so I can’t possibly get into an argument with my boss on the first day. We’ll see about the second one.

“I took the tests alone, as my older brother couldn’t differentiate C# from PHP.” A few of the guys chuckle behind me, proving they aren’t actually focused on their work. Ignoring them, I continue. “If you have doubts, by all means, test me again. I’m certain I can manage whatever you’ll throw at me.”

It only takes him three seconds to think about it before he turns to one of the guys. “Brian, what’s the script you’ve been stuck on for the last iOS update?”

The guy’s wide eyes make my assurance waver. I’m about to face a challenge harder than I imagined, right? Damned be my mouth, always speaking before thinking. I acted cocky, and now have to pay the price by proving I not only have a quick mouth but also the quick brain to go with it. Luckily, I do, and I’m going to give this man a lesson.

“Are you sure you want to give her that one?” asks a guy who is wearing a bold red jacket. He’s very alluring, with brown skin, neat edges, and impeccable style. Despite all that, he seems to be more easy-going than the others.

“Well, you heard the lady; she can manage anything. And since you five have been stuck on this for two weeks, we might as well let her take care of it.”

They nod and look at me, seemingly sorry for what’s about to happen. Somebody kills me with a headshot, please.

With a deep breath to summon my confidence, I walk to my chosen desk between the blond guy and the red jacket guy. “Hi, I’m Mason,” the latter greets me before pointing at my neighbor from the other side, “and this is Joseph.”

“Hi, I’m Andy,” I greet back with a smile, signing the words with my hands for Joseph, who grins in return.

“We have a shared server, and all our work is backed up daily,” Mason explains. “You can use the script on the server. If you mess it up, we can always get it from the backups.”

“Thanks, but I won’t mess it up.”

“That’s the spirit,” he chuckles.

The computer is on, so Mason tells me where I can find the file. As it opens, a movement to my right catches my attention. It’s the boss, rolling a chair next to mine before sitting down on it.

“What are you doing?” I ask, not minding if I sound aggressive.

“I’m curious to see you in action.” What kind of fresh hell is this? Not minding my reticence, he reaches for the glasses tucked in his collar. “Is there a problem?”

“I’m more efficient when no one’s breathing down my neck.”

“Tough luck.”

I’m about to send him an acerbic remark but he puts his glasses on, and my brain forgets how to compute. Oh, fuck me… With those glasses, he goes from Kal-El to Clark Kent real fast, and I can’t decide which version I prefer. The sporty, confident hunk, or the nerdy, more accessible one?

My body can’t care less about the fact that he is an ass, since I feel the urge to clench my thighs. He’s so close to me I can smell the fresh scent of his soap, the spicy aroma of his deodorant, and even feel the heat emanating from his large body. What the hell is wrong with me?!

There are no words to describe how much I hate this. I’m very aware of his presence, and I can’t imagine my mind not drifting back to it every second. And how on earth am I supposed to focus on my task? I turn to him, disconcerted.

Gray.

His irises are a light shade of colorless ice, surrounded by a darker ring.

“What are you staring at? Get on with it,” he says, pointing at the screen. “You have ninety minutes, starting now.”

Since it’s the only way I can focus in this condition, I ask permission to put my headphones on. He agrees, but when it takes me forever to pick the right playlist, he lets out an annoyed sigh. “You’re wasting time, Andrea. Eighty-seven minutes.”

“Don’t worry. I only need sixty.”

The jab isn’t meant to be heard, more of a grumble to myself, but his answer comes anyway. “Let’s go for sixty minutes, then.”

At that moment, I swear to myself I’ll cut my tongue off if I survive the day.

The most distracting thing I can handle without actually being too distracted is metal, so I end up picking that. Then, as System of a Down blasts into my ears, I get into my zone.

From what I can gather, Kelex developed an app designed to overpower pre-existing operating systems, to make it more suited for various disabilities. Those OS, having several updates a year, require Kelex to follow and adapt constantly. This is for the last iPhone update, which rendered the Kelex app obsolete.

I do my best to clean the script as I assess it and add comments to make it easier to follow. Brian is a messy coder. My new boss’ presence isn’t too problematic with the raging notes and melodies. Every now and then, though, he leans forward to observe more attentively what I’m typing. Every time he comes closer, my body freezes as I try to keep going. At some point, he accidentally touches me, and the electrifying contact makes me jolt, my fingers missing a few letters on the keyboard.

No way I’ll let those greedy hormones get the best of me. For the next sixty minutes, minus some, I’m an emissary to all the women in this world. This arrogant and misogynistic ass needs to be shown that we are as good and as worthy as men.

As usual when I work like this, time goes faster than it should. Every time I check the clock, it has a few more minutes than I’m willing to accept. I’m typing the last command when Mr. Coleman reaches for my headphones and pushes it away so I can hear.

“Time’s up, Andrea.”

Something happens in my core at the way he says my name with that deep voice of his. I’m pretty sure I actually throb at it, which is beyond disconcerting. Shit, this man does unholy things to me.

I’m almost out of breath when I move away from the keyboard. An hour flew by in what felt like ten minutes. Looking around, I notice the guys standing behind us, also curious. There wasn’t enough time to do a final check, but I don’t think I missed anything. Please, I pray in my head, let me have this one at least. Without removing his eyes from my screen, the boss’ mouth bends downward, as if impressed.

“Not bad. But it won’t work.”

Making my chair roll a few inches away, he comes closer. When I see what he edits far up the script, I wince. I forgot a reference, and as he said, the script wouldn’t have worked. Goddamnit. Three extra minutes and I would have found it.

Behind me, the guys don’t hide their disappointment, and the ginger one gives the bearded man a one-dollar bill. Did they bet on my failure? I don’t have time to ask, because the boss returns his attention back to me.

“It was still impressive. We’ll have to run some tests, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. Welcome to the dream team, Andrea,” he says, removing his glasses and slipping them back on his collar. Just like that, Kal-El is back.

Oh, God… Someone is definitely masturbating tonight. And that someone is me.

“Andy,” I correct him, ignoring the sudden burst of heat. He looks at me, his expression blank, but doesn’t comment.

“Have you met your new colleagues yet?”

“No, not really.”

“This is Steven,” he explains, pointing at the older, bearded guy who extends his hand to shake mine. “When I’m not here, he’s the one in charge with Oliver,” the boss continues, gesturing toward the red-haired guy. We shake hands too, and his friendly smile is lovely.

Brian is then introduced. He has Southeast Asian heritage, if I have to guess. He’s wearing a blue shirt with Captain America’s sigil–a fellow Avengers aficionado. “Your coding is so aggressive, we never thought you looked like…” he says as we shake hands, this sentence trailing off as he thinks intently. Mason is the one who finds a relevant comparison.

“Dora the Explorer!”

I hold back a laugh, not wanting to encourage their teasing just yet. Between my haircut–a curly short bob with bangs–my half-Mexicanness, my backpack, and the fact that I am as small as Lady Gaga without the ability to wear 10-inch heels, I probably looked exactly like Dora the Explorer upon arriving.

“That would be Mason, and the last one is Joseph,” the boss concludes. Lifting his hands so Joseph can follow, he then addresses them both, to put them in charge of me for the time being, and find me work to do.

After that, he takes a moment to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything, and his steely eyes fall on me. “You can call me Alexander, or Lex, since everyone takes that liberty.”

I nod, feeling somehow strange to be on a first name–even nickname–basis with him. Satisfied with his work here, he makes his way toward the exit. “Steven, you still owe me ten bucks.”

Before my new colleague can contest the statement, Alexander leaves the room, leaving us alone. I stare at the door, wondering what the hell is his deal.

“Brian, how long have we been telling you to fix your ratchet code?” Mason asks as soon as we’re alone.

“I know… I’m sorry you had to deal with this on your first day, Andy.”

“It’s ok. I guess I didn’t do too bad.”

“Not too bad? Girl, you ate!” Mason insists with his southern accent.

“Yeah! When I started here, Lex took three weeks to welcome me into the team,” Brian recalls. “You did it in an hour.”

“Is he always this… intense?” I ask, signing for Joseph.

They all nod.

“He has a crazy IQ, and it gives him that no-nonsense brain,” Oliver explains. “He’s always three steps ahead and doesn’t care about conventions. That’s why he barely ever says hello, thanks, please, goodbye…”

“It’s not that he’s a dick, though,” Mason points out. “It’s just that his brain ain’t working like ours.”

“Don’t worry,” Oliver says. “You’ll get used to it. Has Dakota given you a tour of the place?”

“Just some quick notes as we came here.”

“Okay, I think we can take ten minutes so I can show you around.” He gallantly moves to the side and gestures toward the door, encouraging me to lead.

We embark on a tour, and I quickly realize that the company is bigger than I thought. Over seventy people work on our floor, and upstairs, it’s a little under sixty. According to Oliver, those numbers should double within a year. To my delight, everyone is very warm and approachable. The average age is around thirty, meaning the company is very dynamic. Oliver tells me where I can find HR, for some papers I have yet to sign.

Eventually, he leads me to a massive break room with tables, lounge chairs, couches, and a TV. It also has a ping-pong table, a foosball one, an old arcade game, vending machines… This is heaven compared to the pitiful excuse of a break room I worked with before–a chair and a microwave in a revamped broom closet.

“This is the leisure room, as well as the lunchroom,” Oliver explains. “Or at least, that’s what they call it. To us, it’s the Arena of Doom. This is the place where you settle a beef with one of the nerds. Dart, table soccer, ping-pong… you name it.” He comes closer to me as if he wants to confide a secret. “Ping-pong would be Steven and Joseph’s weakness. For Brian, it’s table soccer, and Mason is awful at darts.”

I let out a silent laugh, amused by his playfulness. “And what’s your weakness?”

“I don’t have one, silly woman. I’m the final boss, nearly impossible to beat.”

This time, I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’ve always been great at destroying those. So be careful who you call silly, you imprudent man.”

He smiles broadly, and that causes dimples to appear in the middle of his cheeks on the side of his grin. It’s surprisingly alluring.

A woman comes our way, holding a cup of fresh coffee. She has a beautiful afro, and her gleaming skin is a light shade of brown. She’s pretty in a cute way and gives out a very kind, very gentle vibe. Oli gestures for her to join us, so she does with curiosity.

“This is Tamika,” Oliver introduces while signing. “She works with R&D. Tammy, this is Andy. She’s with the dev team.” Tammy smiles at me, her upper lip lifting, showing me her perfect set of pearly teeth.

We both extend our hands at the same time. Hers is soft and feminine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tammy,” I then say while signing the words.

“Likewise. Let me know if you need anything,” she gestures with genuine kindness before leaving.

“It’s awesome that you know ASL,” Oliver notes as he guides me to our next destination. “It’s not exactly a requirement, but almost everyone does in the company. There are five people with a hearing handicap working here, so we took the habit of signing whenever they’re around. How did you learn it?”

“My older brother was born completely deaf, so I know American and Mexican sign languages.”

“Mexican too?”

“Yeah. Tyler wanted to show our mom that her side mattered as much as our father’s, so he insisted we spoke both languages, as any mixed family would.”

“That’s so cool of him. I love the idea.”

“Me too. My brother is why I’m so invested in this new job. I want to be among the team that helps make this world a more comfortable place for people like him.”

“Well, you made it, Dora.”

I did. All I need now is to remain diplomatic enough not to be fired by my obnoxious boss.

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/cb8a343379ecab507e365b29eb698680318f9a6b/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f616f7261325166786834443075513d3d2d313430333538363633362e313739653837306265613634646533663332363938383031303233362e6a7067)

⸻ THREE ⸻

As suspected, I fit right in with those geeks. That becomes clearer than ever when we come back from our tour and the guys are debating about the best Batman out there. I end up settling the argument when I mention my personal favorite, Kevin Conroy, from The Animated Series. That’s one they can all agree on.

Mason and Joseph give me my tasks for the morning, and I breeze through them with ease. So far, working for Kelex isn’t proving as challenging as I worried it might be. Aside from my boss, of course.

Then, as if I need more proof that I’ve found my people, the lunch break comes. That’s when I realize I’ve landed in heaven. These nerds play first person shooting video games in their downtime, and I decide this job is the best thing that ever happened to me.

“We usually play Counter Strike,” Oliver explains to me. “You in, young Padawan?”

“I haven’t played it in ages.”

“Are you worried you’ll lose?” Brian asks.

“I haven’t played CS in a while, but I can still kick your ass.” That swiftly kills his hopes.

I haven’t prepared anything for my lunch, still needing to do some grocery shopping, so I buy a few things from the vending machines so I can eat them during the loading screens. I pick She-Hulk as my alias, so everyone gets it’s me. After a few rounds, I’m happy to see myself in second place; behind Grizzly, Steven’s alias. As the game goes, I get more comfortable, and gain on him. That is, until a player named Luthor joins us. He quickly rises up to my score with his impressive skills. Because of this new player, my team gets slaughtered round after round.

When he kills me for the fourth time in a row, and with a perfect headshot at that, I let out a groan and frustratingly take a bite of my Snickers. “Who the hell is Luthor?” I ask, angrily chewing as my patience runs thin.

Oliver laughs before sending me a compassionate look. “It’s the boss.”

Lex Luthor. Oh, that is clever…

There I’ve been, comparing him to Superman, when all along he’s been his nemesis. The man is assimilating himself with an evil genius, and that should be enough to kill my curiosity about him. But maybe I’m a little twisted in the head, because I kinda like Lex Luthor in Smallville.

We keep playing, and when the lunch break ends, I sourly stare at the final scoreboard. I’m very close to having done better than Steven, but still far from “Luthor.”

Joseph gives me a shoulder tap, so I turn to him. “Don’t worry,” he signs. “You’ll beat them in no time.”

“Thanks. I may have a chance with Steven, but not much with the boss.”

“He barely ever joins us. Once a quarter, at best. You’ll have to settle for the second place when he plays.”

His kindness is like a balm for my heart, and it brings a wide smile to my lips. I work for about an hour before receiving an email from someone in the HR department. Time to sign the last contracts for my employment.

On my way to the stairs, I pull out my phone to check my messages. In our family group chat, my parents are wishing me luck while Tyler is telling me to act normal for once and not bomb this one. Kate, my best friend, texted saying she has faith in me and I can do anything. As I climb up the stairs, I respond to my family and invite Tyler to go fuck himself in a private message, making sure I won’t trip on a step and fall on my face.

When I reach the twenty-eighth floor, I push through the door, a cheerful smile on my face as I answer Kate. We’ve been friends for most of our lives. She’s the sister I never had, and I’m hers. Since we keep no secrets from one another, I decide to tell her about my misogynistic BILF–boss I’d like to fuck.

Just as I hit Send, I violently bump into a firm, warm, and broad body. My phone slips from my hands and falls on the carpeted floor with a dull thump.

“I’m so sorry!” I apologize, lifting my head. My entire frame goes still when I see who I collided with, and my lower stomach does some kind of backflip that I keenly feel.

Of course, of all the people I can run into, it has to be him . Do I have the ability to summon the man with my thoughts?

I stare up into the icy gray eyes behind his glasses. When he sees it’s me, he frowns and bends to grab my phone before I can. He glances at the crack on the screen–which was already there before the fall–and then hands it back to me with a shadow of amusement.

“You should look upfront when you walk.” His voice is stern and cold, but I barely notice as he adjusts his glasses and my brain goes M.I.A. Damn it, since when do I have a thing for men wearing glasses?

Trying to appear unfazed, I look at the papers in his hands. He wasn’t looking either, or this wouldn’t have happened. He seems to catch my train of thoughts. “I’m working. You were texting. Not the same.” Well, he is kind of right, so I keep my mouth shut.

“Are you looking for HR?”

“Yes, I have to sign my contract.”

“Third door on the left,” he explains, before going back on his way. After two steps, he turns to me again, hesitant. A faint touch of appreciation veils his stoic expression. “By the way, not too bad, She-Hulk.”

Not waiting for my answer, he resumes his course. I stand there like an idiot, watching him walk away. Pride swells in my chest, not because he is my boss, but because he is a fantastic player, and getting recognition from him is grand.

As he walks away from me, I can’t help but take a few seconds to admire his form. He’s at least 6’1, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and has a lean frame. He isn’t buff, but he definitely works out. There is no doubt he does squats. Not with that ass.

Eventually, he disappears into a room, and losing sight of him gives me back control of my brain.

For the tenth time today, I scold myself when I glance down at my phone. My screen is still on, and on it, the message I sent Kate.

Hi, babe! I miss you so much already. I can’t wait to see you tonight. It’s going great, except for my boss, who’s both a sexist asshole and the hottest man I’ve ever seen.

Okay, if earlier I wanted for the ground to open up and swallow me, it’s nothing compared to now. I’m one embarrassing moment away from leaving everything and becoming a llama shepherd in the Andes mountains.

Could he have read it? He had his glasses on, so he could have, but he didn’t gaze at my phone for more than two seconds, and the cracked screen could have distracted him from what laid behind it. It’s very possible he didn’t read it. He would have done something otherwise, like fire me, argue he isn’t sexist…anything.

My phone buzzes in my hand. Kate replied.

OMG! You have to tell me everything in detail tonight!!! Can you snap a picture of him?

I roll my eyes and type a quick answer.

Calma tus tetas, blondie, I’m absolutely not taking a picture of him. I’ll spill you the tea tonight, tho. Gtg, love you.

I walk to the door Alexander told me, shoving my phone into my pocket.

Despite the very cold email, the two women at HR are lovely. I sign all the necessary papers and they give me a copy of the company’s rules and regulations. On my walk back to the stairs, I can’t shake the smile from my face. It’s official. I’m a full-stack developer at Kelex.

I spend the rest of the afternoon working with Mason, getting accustomed to the way things work around here. When we reach five-thirty, everyone packs up, ready to go home. It’s nice to have normal hours for once. I’m particularly exhausted after this intense first day. Once all my things are ready to go, I hook my over-ear headphones around my neck and I walk out at the same time as Oliver.

“Is it weird if I say I’m thrilled you turned out to be a woman?” he asks as we walk to the elevators.

“Maybe a little bit,” I laugh, half-amused, half-flattered.

“Yeah, I figured… I’m not sure how to explain it. I feel like you’ll add some delicateness to the office.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.”

He laughs and pushes the elevator’s button. “Well then, I’ll say you’re nicer to look at than another bearded nerd, then. Steven is enough.”

Unfamiliar with this kind of situation, I don’t know how to reply to his compliment, so I plaster an awkward smile on my face. Oliver is cute and charming in his own way, and he has the confidence that comes with it. Discreetly looking at him, I take in his profile. He’s taller than me by a good eight inches, and his auburn hair makes him stand out. His build is slender, but not to a fault, and his face is a little angular, but it gives him an undeniable charm.

To my relief, other people join us in our waiting for the elevator, including Tamika. She comes next to me and elbows me slightly to get my attention.

“So, how was your first day here?” she signs, smiling kindly.

“She aced it,” Oliver answers in my stead. “She even impressed Lex.”

“I guess I did alright.” The elevator arrives, and we all move inside.

“Are you liking your coworkers?” she then signs.

I look at Oliver, who’s clearly interested in the answer. “So far, so good. I really think I’m going to love this job.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You seem like a great addition to the team.”

We chat the whole way down, and when we reach the ground floor and exit the building, Tamika wishes us a good evening and rushes to an awaiting car.

“Are you taking the bus?” Oliver asks once we’re alone. We’re two blocks from a central transport station on Pike Street, and I have a direct line to my neighborhood.

“Yes, the D line, to Ballard.”

“Ah, I’m on the C, I get off at Lincoln Park. Too bad. At least we get to walk to the station together.”

Ok, now he has to be flirting, at least a little bit. It isn’t so far stretched that someone would be interested in me like this, but it isn’t a common thing either. I’m agreeable to look at, from what I’ve been told–and not only by my mother. But I’m not breaking necks when I pass people in the streets either.

I don’t exactly like my pear-shaped body, which has earned me a few “fat ass” and “ironing board” comments in my teen years. I have a slim waist and narrow shoulders, but my hips are wide and thighs thick. It’s what my mom qualifies as a “healthy layer of fat,” which, in my book, is still fat. My hair is a whole other issue, inherited from my mother’s messy dark curls. Every shampoo is a lottery, and it’s more often bad than good, and rarely ever great. Today is an okay day.

While I don’t exactly like my body, I really like my face, though. My eyes are a pretty shape, almond-like, their color a basic brown, but surrounded by a thick row of long eyelashes I got from my dad’s side. My nose is unnoticeable and dusted with freckles that get darker in the summer. I have rather plump lips, from my mother’s genes. My jawline is a little square-y, but just enough to give me some character, according to my abuela.

Is Oliver receptive to my mix of flaws and assets? He himself is alluring, sweet, and funny, which is quite an irresistible combination. If I were looking for someone, a guy like him would be high on the list.

I’m taken out of my thoughts when Oliver clears his throat, still waiting for my answer. “Yes! Sorry, of course. We’ll walk together to the stop.”

As we walk, we talk about anything and everything. Turns out we have many of the same interests, from video games to movies, and a passion for old science fiction shows. We stop at a crossing, and it’s already time to part. His body leans forward for a fraction of a second before he eventually extends his hand. I shake it, and with a wave, we part.

I reach my platform and see him step on his at the same time. Our eyes meet, and we smile at each other one last time.

Despite a rocky start, today was a great day, after all.

  ![](https://img.wattpad.com/b32b5855d7d53a188a29ecfe7aac8e41b8143c05/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f79507959625f5949315a382d4b773d3d2d313430333538363637362e313739653837333133393934363063393334393636393034363631372e6a7067)

⸻ FOUR ⸻

My great mood hasn’t faded by the time I arrive at my building. I’m even listening to my happy playlist and all.

It feels like nothing can ruin it. Not even my creepy landlady when I accidentally bump into her as I moonwalk my way into the hall. Mrs. Godfrey then proceeds to sermon me for not having signed the lease yet, which is actually her fault and we both know it. As diplomatic as ever, I agree to meet with her the next day to sign it. With the Bee Gees’ Stayin Alive back into my ears, I offer her two awkward finger guns and slip past her to climb the stairs, feeling like a scolded child.

Today isn’t a good day for my self-confidence as an adult.

A little out of breath, I get to my door on the third floor. I wrestle with it, only to be greeted by my very unfamiliar living room, which serves as a bedroom and a kitchen as well. I also have a single window overlooking the building’s pitiful courtyard.

The piles of boxes have me sighing, and I wonder if I’ll have the strength and courage to take care of them tonight. I haven’t unpacked anything yet, and only opened boxes to take what I need as I go. Today has been tiring enough, though, so I’m not starting the unpacking now.

I drop my bag, pop open the button of my jeans, pull my shirt out of it, and unhook my bra before removing it with practiced gestures. When the cumbersome accessory is taken care of, I throw it on a chair where clothes are already piling up. I drop on the couch, which unpleasantly reminds me of the presence of my phone in my back pocket. There’s a message from Kate when I pull it out.

I’m waiting!

With a smile, I open our conversation and tap on the camera to call her. It rings twice before she picks up. My smile widens when her familiar face appears on the screen. “Oh, hello Jabba the Hutt,” she greets me.

My face in the upper corner of the screen easily explains the insult. “You nasty bitch! You know I’m not to be teased about my double chin.”

“You don’t have a double chin.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do when I do that,” I insist, shoving my head in my shoulders.

“Everyone has a double chin when they do that, you idiot.”

“Not everyone.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Chris Hemsworth probably doesn’t.” No need to even try arguing about this one. To Kate, the Australian actor is the apogee of human evolution, flawless in every way. “You’re back to your studio, I see?”

“Yeah, just got here.”

“So, how was your first day, babe?”

“It went great. It’s like I was born for this job and this team. The guys are total nerds, just like me, so it’s been awesome so far.” I tell her about everything, the company, the office, the “dream team,” even about Dakota and Tammy. When I’m done, I stop talking, searching for what else I can tell her about.

“Now that you told me all about the uninteresting things, on to the good stuff. How about that sexy boss of yours?”

I wince and look away from the screen, not knowing how to explain it to Kate without her getting any weird ideas. “He’s strange,” I eventually say. “Apparently, he is some sort of asocial genius, so he’s super rude.”

“But he’s hot.”

“It doesn’t make up for being a total douche. The asshole thought I cheated to get in. He couldn’t believe I did it without the help of a male friend.”

“That dick!” she protests with an appalled face, finally getting my vibe. “I hope you proved that idiot wrong.”

“You know I did. I made him regret his insulting remarks.”

“That’s my girl!” There is a short moment of silence, and I look away from my phone to my messy room. “Did you finish unpacking?”

“No. I still need to muster the courage to even start.”

“You’ve been there for three days. Stop procrastinating and get your lazy ass to work.”

“I can’t tonight. I have plans,” I pretend.

“What plans?”

“I’m gonna Netflix and chill.”

“I know you mean Netflix and actually chill,” she answers, not duped. “Since you haven’t unpacked, you most definitely haven’t found Idris yet.”

Idris, named after one of the sexiest men to have ever lived, Idris Elba, is my clitoral massager, my most trusted companion in the darkest hours of the night. I’m a little offended, even though she has every reason to assume I’m not talking about a real human.

“Maybe I meant an actual man in the flesh.”

“No, you didn’t. You never do.”

“But I can’t unpack right now… I’m exhausted.”

“Well then, tonight you rest, but tomorrow you unpack, and I want a picture to prove you did it.”

“I swear I will,” I promise. My phone buzzes in my hand, and on the top of my screen, I see it’s my mother. “Mom’s calling, I have to go. Love you!”

She barely has time to reply before I hang up on her and take my mother’s call, eager to hear her comforting and familiar voice. With a broad smile on my face, I put the phone over my ear. “¡Hola mamá! ¿Cómo estás?” Hi mom! How are you?

“I’m great, mija. And you, how are you? “

“ I’m great too. Except I miss you guys.“

“We miss you too,” she says with palpable emotion. I hear my father’s voice, close to the phone. “Your dad says hi.”.

“Hi, dad!” I yell, hoping he can hear me.

“Hey, peanut!” He definitely has his ear pressed against my mom’s phone. “We’re very proud of you, you know?”

A twinge of melancholy tightens my heart. My parents and I are close, especially since I only moved out of the family house three years ago, upon getting my first proper job. It was still in Portland, though, so I never lived so far from them.

Both my mother’s parents were first-generation immigrants. I barely got to know my abuelo, but my abuela, Maria Carmen, has been living in the family house for the past twenty years and some. On my dad’s side, everyone was cut off before I was born–no racist bigots allowed in this family.

My parents are the cutest couple I know, and I wish for everyone to find what they have. Thirty-something years together and Michael and Isabella Walker are still smitten with one another. My father’s loving gaze when he looks at my mom is the reason why my standards are so high. I won’t settle for anything less than that.

I tell them about my day and how great things will be. I, of course, don’t tell them about my frustrating boss and the confusing sensations he triggers in me, but I do tell them about the few people I met. After the longest goodbyes, we hang up, and I stare at the ceiling, nostalgic. A few seconds pass before I notice that the paint is peeling. This apartment is truly horrible, but it’s the only one I could find on such short notice.

Following an evening of having popcorn as dinner because it’s all I have, watching Rick and Morty, and skimming over Kelex’s rules and regulations, I end up in my uncomfortable couch-bed after getting ready for the night.

As I play back the day in my head, my mind inevitably drifts to Alexander Coleman. There’s something about him that I can’t shake off. Yes, he’s attractive, but in the era of TikTok and Instagram, I’m used to seeing attractive people all the time. Is it because he’s terribly smart? Or because he seems so unreachable, unattainable? Oh, it could be that jawline, and the stubble that accentuates it. Maybe it’s because of how hard his chest was when a bunch of wild lawyers and traders shoved me into it.

My covers become unbearable, so I push a leg out in the colder air of the room. The man really has an effect on me. Especially when I recall how nice he smells, how bewitching his eyes are, his deep voice…

Okay, I need to do something about this horniness, because it’s getting out of hand.

I grab my phone and quickly send Kate a message.

Do you know where Idris is?

Her reply comes fast.

I hid it.

Where?

I’m not telling you. It’s your motivation to unpack.

You bitch!

I write with a huff.

I love you too <3

For several seconds, I stare at the screen, appalled. She knows I’m not an overly sexual creature, so if I insist, she’ll read into things and get the wrong ideas. But if I don’t grant myself an orgasm, there’s no telling what kind of hot mess I’ll be tomorrow, when I come across my annoyingly attractive boss.

Can you tell me where you hid it, please?

I try again.

My lips are sealed. Either you unpack right now, or you use one of those things called fingers.

I groan, put my phone down and stare up into the darkness. I love her so much, but not really at that moment. Fingers alone never make me climax, whether it’s mine or someone else’s, and she knows that. But it’s not like I’ll start unpacking now.

With a resigned sigh, I open an incognito tab on my phone, type in my trusted ethical porn site’s domain, and start scrolling through the options. I’m a picky bitch, so I only find something suitable on page three.

My eyes are glued on the couple on my phone fucking each other to oblivion as my hand travel south, slipping under my shorts and underwear. For five entire minutes, I try everything, rolling, pinching, fast, slow, hard, soft… I play my clit like a maestro, but it’s not enough. The sensation is enjoyable, but nothing is building up. I’ll need ages to come like this.

Time to change strategies. I dismiss the phone and close my eyes instead. Pleasure happens in the brain, so maybe if I can just focus my mind on it, it’ll work.

I conjure a mental image very much to my tastes, of a dashing man worshiping me. The dark-haired hunk in my mind slowly goes down on my stomach, laying kisses and bites on my skin, until he reaches between my thighs. My breathing quickens, and so does the circling of my fingers around my clit. A shiver runs through my body as I imagine gray eyes gazing up at me, intense and domineering.

Yes! I’m rapidly getting there.

In the fantasy I’m fabricating, the man darts out his pink tongue and slowly samples me. My legs tremble and I whimper. Fuck, this is working so well. Changing the pressure and pattern of my fingers, I imagine his tongue licking me, teasing my most sensitive spot, his hands holding my thighs apart, so that I have no choice but to endure the sweet torture. I can feel it, my orgasm is right around the corner. A few more flicks and I’ll reach it.

I look down in my fantasy, and my whole body goes tense when I see him. Alexander fucking Coleman. It’s not a vaguely faced stranger anymore. It’s my very real, very alive boss.

My hand whips out of my shorts as if I burned myself. I lie there, panting, reflecting on my actions.

What the hell, Andy?!

Frustrated, I let out a growl and press my legs together, trying to hush the pulses of my aching intimacy. I already know that if I try to finish what I started, his face will pop again in my mind. Fuck, this is so much worse than if I haven’t done anything.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

⸻ FIVE ⸻

I succeed in the no-touching-myself department, but fail miserably in getting my beauty sleep. It isn’t even nine when I arrive at work the next day, Tuesday, and I’m already exhausted, looking like a zombie. I have absolutely no idea how I’ll keep my word to Kate and unpack my boxes today. Knowing myself, I’ll get home, sign the lease, and fall face-first on my couch, eager to get some much-needed sleep.

On my way to the Troll’s Lair, I stop by the break room to pour myself a coffee, which speaks volumes about my tired state. A fresh batch of magic bean juice is in the pot, and I pour some of it in a mug I picked from the cupboard. Since I loathe the taste, I add several spoonfuls of sugar. I’m on my fifth when a voice behind me startles me.

“Would you like some more coffee with that sugar?” It’s Oliver, looking at me with a teasing smile. Now that I have slept on it, he’s rather attractive. Not in the classical way, but there’s something kind about him that’s very reassuring and enticing.

I grimace, scrunching my nose. “Don’t tell anyone, but I really don’t like the taste of coffee,” I confess.

“My lips are sealed.” I can’t help but smile when he mimics the gesture. “It seems we had the same idea,” he adds, lifting his own empty mug in front of him. His cup is in the shape of Darth Vader’s helmet. The detail makes my appreciation of him even greater.

“Don’t take it the wrong way, but you look a bit…tired,” he cautiously says. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just too excited to sleep last night.” Well, that isn’t a lie.

“I get that,” he says with compassion. “When I started here, it felt surreal.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Almost since the beginning, seven years ago. We were eight in total, including Steven, Kev, and Lex.”

“Kev?”

“Kevin Langley, the co-owner. He and Lex are childhood friends. Kev is the face of the company, the social one, and Lex is the engineer, the brain behind it all.”

“Ke-Lex,” I say, understanding where the company’s name comes from.

“Yup.” Oliver glances at the sugar that I’m still holding. “I don’t know if you intend to finish it, but may I have a spoonful?”

I smile at his teasing. There is at least a pound of sugar in there. Of course I’m not going to finish it. I pour him a dose, and before he can react, I add a second one.

“Oh no, you lunatic!” he protests with a laugh, covering his mug with his hand. “I will know who to blame when my arteries clog up.”

We both chuckle at his antics before heading to the Lair. Everyone is already here, and Brian looks up to give us a suspicious look. “Why are you two arriving at the same time?” he inquisitively asks.

I turn and look at Oliver, whose eyes are throwing daggers at our coworker. With a broad smile, I tell Brian, “I slept at his place. Best night of my life. Nothing will ever be the same,” I pretend, signing for Joseph. This isn’t even me trying to sound convincing, but Brian’s jaw falls open.

“We met in the break room, you moron,” Oliver explains, slightly blushing. Brian lets out a disappointed sigh and returns his attention to his screen.

As my computer is booting, I take a sip of my coffee, inevitably grimacing at the awful taste. It’s such a burden to have the taste buds of a five-year-old. My eyes cross Oliver’s, who witnessed my disgust, and he gives me a falsely judging head shake. I shrug and take another sip, not breaking eye contact. I try my best not to show my revulsion but fail, making him laugh softly.

The morning goes smoothly as I work on more tasks Mason and Joseph give me, and before I know it, the lunch break arrives. This time, I decline their offer to play, thinking this is a good opportunity to meet new people.

From the sandwich machine, I buy the most appetizing one, ham and cheese, before looking around to find familiar faces. I quickly spot Tamika, thanks to her lush natural hair, and go to her. She’s sitting with Dakota and two other people I don’t know yet, a man and a woman.

“Hi! May I sit?” I ask, signing.

Tammy and Dakota nod with a friendly smile, and I sit in the empty chair. I turn to the ones I don’t know, extending my hand. “I’m Andy, the new developer.”

The man shakes it first, leaning forward from the wheelchair he’s sitting in. He’s in his mid-thirties and is wearing a Seattle SuperSonics’ cap. “Hi, I’m Jay. I work with Dak on the graphic design team.”

I then turn to the woman who has pink hair, plenty of ear piercings, and a tattoo creeping up her throat. “Hi, I’m Katelyn, Kat. I’m from R&D, with Tammy.” We shake hands as well before I sit back in my chair, opening my sandwich. Now that I’m surrounded by their home-cooked meals, it’s much less appealing, so the bite I take is reluctant.

They are talking about one of Kelex’s latest projects, a tool designed for quadriplegics with full paralysis. The app is meant to follow the movements of the eyes to allow the user to operate the device. Since it is the one I’m working on with Mason and Joseph, I’m able to participate and add to the conversation. For the most part, it’s working, but there are still some issues with the gaze tracking. It isn’t accurate enough to use the keyboard, and the company is hellbent on making the experience as comfortable as possible for the users.

Once done with my sandwich, I rest my chin in the crook of my palm, my elbow on the table. My short night becomes a very oppressing reality, and I feel myself dozing off.

“Hi, boss,” Jay suddenly says, shaking me out of my tired state. I straighten up, gathering that the boss is standing behind me, given where they are all looking. Please, tell me I’m about to meet Kevin…

The low voice that comes from behind me is, alas, all too familiar. True to himself, he doesn’t greet anyone, and goes straight to business. “Katelyn, I’ll need to get that report New York sent you yesterday. Dakota, Kevin wants to see you this afternoon. Andrea,” he starts, and I hold my breath, anxious even though I haven’t done anything wrong. “I can’t control your life outside of this office, but when you come in, you ought to be well-rested and efficient. We don’t pay you to nap.”

Outrage fills me as I turn around to face him. My ire is quickly replaced by embarrassment, though, as I see his face and think of how I imagined it between my legs, licking my clit.

My voice isn’t as strong as I wish when I speak. “You aren’t paying me at all right now, since it’s my lunch break. So, if I want to spend it napping, I will,” I declare in a matter-of-fact tone.

While he processes my words, I take in the sight of him. His navy blue T-shirt is tighter than the one yesterday, and the shade highlights his tan. The stubble is still here, and his hair is still a little messy. He isn’t wearing his glasses, and I can totally see him rip out his shirt in the middle and have that red and yellow ‘S’ plastered on his chest.

No! I scold myself internally. He’s Lex Luthor, not Superman. Bad! Bad person!

That face, which I so clearly pictured shoved between my legs yesterday, his imaginary tongue pleasuring me, is as stoic as ever, except for that raised eyebrow. My insides turn to jelly under his intense stare. It’s wicked to want him that much.

Apparently I’m not worth debating with, because he closes the argument with, “I better not catch you dozing off during work hours, then.”

With that, he leaves us back to our break. When I turn back to the table, they are all watching me with wide eyes. “What?” I wonder, suddenly worried.

“Andy, do you have a death wish?” Dakota asks.

“I–No. Why?”

“I don’t think I have ever seen someone talk to Lex like that and get off so easily.”

“I was rude?”

“Eh… Not really. Just know that he can be very strict, and doesn’t like people talking back. Since he’s right ninety-nine percent of the time, I can totally get why. Being second-guessed by your employees when you know you’re right must be a pain in the ass.”

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t realize my attitude was problematic.”

“It’s okay, Andy,” Tammy reassures me. “Just be careful. You don’t want to poke the bear. Alexander Coleman has a limited stock of patience, and you don’t want to see what happens when he runs out of it.”

Jay nods. “Last time it happened, the walls trembled.”

“What happened?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

Kat is the one who fills me in. “Someone leaked essential pieces of information before a patent was fully negotiated. The company probably lost a few millions because of it.”

Well, that seems like a good reason to get mad. I’d get mad for a thousand dollars. And growing up with two Mexican women, I know how to yell at people–with the chancla and everything.

All things considered, I’d yell for a hundred dollars.

I stay with them a little longer, pondering on my actions and how to fix the broken relationship I have with my boss. I want this job to work out, so I need to make concessions.

The afternoon goes by as fast as the morning, and we end up focusing on the app we’re struggling with. Joseph, Mason, and I talk about the new approach, and Oliver joins us, as the delicate matter requires several brains to work through.

By the time we’re done with our brainstorming, it’s five thirty. Time to leave. I explain I have to meet my landlady and rush out of the Lair. I’m getting out of the building when I hear Oliver’s voice to my right. “You sure can walk fast with those short legs,” he says with a smile.

Okay, it doesn’t matter how dense I can be about those things, it’s clear this man likes me.

A grin lingers on my lips from his teasing, as I keep walking toward the bus stop, secretly happy to not be alone. “You didn’t have to accompany me, you know.”

“And miss our daily existential conversations? Never, Miss Walker!”

I smile, touched. “What is your surname, by the way?”

“Twist.”

“Ha-ah, good one,” I answer without missing a beat. I’m not falling for it.

“What?”

“Your name most certainly isn’t Oliver Twist.”

“Is there something I should know about my name?”

I stop in my tracks to study him. For half a second, I almost believe him, but his seriousness wavers. “You’re an idiot,” I say, resuming my walk.

“I almost had you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Maybe for a hundredth of a second.”

“Still counts.”

There’s something truly enticing about him, a comfortableness I appreciate greatly.

“Queen,” he says after a moment.

“What?”

“My name is Queen.” Oliver Queen? That one sounds very familiar too. Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow. With a fisted hand, I feebly hit his arm. “Ouch! Gentle there, Rocky.” He rubs the spot I punched, very happy with his joke.

“Tell me your name, Oli. It’s a question of honor now.”

“May I offer an ‘Oliver Branch’ to appease your bruised ego?” he proposes. Once more, I try to hide my appreciation of his humor, but fail. “Or maybe I can invite you to ‘Oliver Garden?’”

“You’re the worst.” My massive grin isn’t fading, and it’s clear he is, indeed, not the worst.

He comes up with a few more goofy names, and then we reach the crossing.

“You’re going to make me work for your name, aren’t you?”

“It’s always been hard for me to share it.”

“Really?” I reply, wondering what silly joke is coming my way next.

“Yeah. You know what? It’ll probably be easier if I text it to you.”

Oh, he’s smooth… I hold my hand out for his phone, which he promptly gives me.

“You could have just asked for my number, you know?” I tell him as I type Andy w/ the good script as my name.

“Nah, this is really just for the sake of sharing my name. I’ll delete your info as soon as we’re done.”

Okay, I really like him. He’s funny, and most definitely charming.

I hand him back his phone, and he grins and shakes his head when he sees the name I set. We part ways with a wave, heading to our respective bus stops. When our gazes meet across the street, he does a double finger-gun, and the corniness of the gesture makes me giggle softly. I’m glad to see I’m not the only one still sporting it. Even from where I stand, I can tell he scolds himself for the gesture. But my bus arrives, so I don’t have time to gesture the same thing back to reassure him.

⸻

This time around, Mrs. Godfrey manages to ruin my perfect day. The price she asks for the horrible apartment is outrageous, and not at all what we agreed on. As I argue with her about it, everything starts making sense. It’s for a reason that she delayed the signing so much. She planned on me unpacking, and then feeling forced to sign regardless, since I’m already settled.

But the joke’s on her: I’m an expert procrastinator, and moving out of this roach infested building will be a breeze since all my boxes are still packed. She doesn’t like it so much when I agree to be out on Saturday, but I am not paying that much for a studio.

Even though I know I made the right decision, I feel terrible by the time I get back into my apartment. I hate the place, but I’m not so happy at the prospect of having to find a new apartment so quickly and spending my weekend moving there.

Four days into my new life, and I’m already homeless.

My phone buzzes and I welcome the distraction. A smile makes its way on my face when I see it’s from Oliver.

So, like I said, my name is a sensitive topic.

I can’t tell if he’s messing with me or if he really has a weird ass name. Possibly both.

Get on with it, Mr. Garden. I need to be cheered up.

What happened?

I’m getting evicted on Saturday.

What?!

The owner is a greedy asshole who tried to double the price.

Do you want me to come and beat the shit out of him?

What didn’t feel possible five minutes ago happens, and I laugh.

She’s at least sixty years old.

I don’t see a problem. Old people are just like us. They deserve the same treatment as anyone. And since I’m a feminist, I feel the same about women.

How progressive of you. But don’t worry about it. Your full surname will suffice.

Alright, I see what you’re doing. It will work this time, but you better remember that I’m merciless.

I’m sure you are. So?

It’s Paulson. Oliver Paulson.

It’s so far from what I imagined that I first think he’s lying again. I quickly open Facebook and type his name there. There are many Oliver Paulsons out there, but he comes in third position, since we both follow Kelex and are in Seattle. He’s right there, smiling widely while holding a black cat, easily recognizable with his red hair.

It’s SUCH a normal name

, I send him, still shocked.

I know, but…

A few seconds pass, until he adds,

My dad’s name isn’t Paul, so I think he’s not my real dad.

It’s such a stupid, terrible joke that I burst out laughing.

Jail. Jail for you, Paulson. Right now!

We text for a while longer, about nothing and everything, like we seem to be great at. Then, I’m forced to say goodbye as I have to find a place to live if I don’t want to spend my nights under a bridge.

From my couch-bed, I browse a few rental apps, looking for literally anything. I select a few, for which I’ll send emails in the morning. It’s past midnight when I go to sleep. That’s when I realize the thought of my boss didn’t occur to me all evening.

Good for me, I’m already getting over the man.

Andrea and Lex are getting published!!

Hi, my darlings!

I have some exciting news to share with you all. The Desire Variable is getting published on October 15th!! While this means that the entire Binary Hearts Series will be removed from Wattpad, this is a huge and thrilling new chapter for Andy, Lex, and their story.

For those of you who have been with me since the beginning, you know that I first started publishing The Desire Variable here on Wattpad in July 2019. It’s been an incredible journey, and I’ve grown so much as an author thanks to your unwavering support. Your comments, encouragement, and enthusiasm have been the driving force behind my constant effort to give you the best story I can, and I’m so grateful for every single one of you.

I understand that seeing the series go might be disappointing, but please know that this is only the beginning of something even more amazing. To stay updated on all the latest news—including today’s reveal of the stunning new cover—make sure to follow me on Instagram at authoranadarcy . I’ll be sharing exclusive content, giveaways, and behind-the-scenes updates that you won’t want to miss!

Thank you again for your incredible support over the years. I can’t wait to share this next step of the journey with you!

With love and gratitude, Darla/Ana