Hard For My Boss

“Why?”

“To get involved with someone in the workplace,” he finishes.

I train my eyes to the article in front of me, unblinkingly. My throat stiffens, as if suddenly incapable of swallowing at all.

“I mean, I’m not judging you for whoever you were gettin’ it on with in the bathroom,” he quickly adds. “Like, you totally need some tail, no joke. But I—”

“It wasn’t me,” I insist for the twelfth time since yesterday.

“Dude, I could pick you out of a lineup by just your ankles. That was totally you in the bathroom. And I don’t care who it was you were doing the porky-pork with.”

“Elijah!” I hiss, my face going red.

“Unless it was Brady.” He cringes. “Then I hope you porked him good and that’s the reason he’s walking bowlegged today.”

“Good God, no.”

“Alright. Then I hope he porked someone else and got crabs.” Elijah pats me on the back heartily. “Anyway, workplace romance never works out. Bad idea. Hope it was just a one-time thing. Besides, we don’t want to look bad in front of the boss.”

I close my eyes, feeling my chest tighten with frustration.

“Again, no judgment,” he adds, “but if you want to squirrel up some sexy nuts for the winter, I’ll take you to the club again. If you promise to keep it out of the office, I will too. No Ashlee for me. And no Brandon for you.”

“Oh my God, it wasn’t Brandon,” I hiss at him, lowering my head.

“Hah! I knew it was you in the bathroom. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.” He slaps my back again, then calls out over his shoulder as he walks away, “Get ready for Thai in an hour, bro!”

For the next however many minutes, I’m cringing over and over again as I replay my roommate’s heavy words in my totally-not-guilty brain. Keep it out of the office. Workplace romance never works out. Hope it was just a one-time thing.

… Bad idea …

I’ve never kept secrets from Elijah. Not once. Not ever. And now not only is my secret about Benjamin and I sitting on me like a sexy heavyweight wrestler folding me into a Boston crab, but Elijah’s made a deal with me not to pursue anyone in the office.

Except I’m not seeing Benjamin. We’re being professional. There is nothing happening anymore.

I straighten my posture. There’s nothing to feel guilty about, I tell myself. You just have six and a half more weeks of this glorious place to endure, and that’s six and a half weeks where I’ll keep my hands to myself and prove exactly how disciplined I am.

The clock taunts me minute by minute.

Tick tock tick tock.

The second the clock hits five, Rebekah poofs into existence in front of my desk. “Trevor. I need you to do me a very important favor, and I am not asking this of you lightly.”

I blink. My messenger bag is already over my shoulder. “Yes?”

“I was asked to drop these files off at Mr. Gage’s,” she explains while patting a small box, “but I have something of a little family emergency and can’t swing by his place. I have to leave now. You are the only intern who doesn’t give me the creepy vibe. Can you please drop these off to him?”

I’m frozen in place, my thumb still hooked on the strap of my messenger bag. “I … um …” I gesture at his office. “You want me to leave … this box … on his desk?”

“No, hon. He left half an hour ago. I need you to drop this off at his apartment. Here, I’ll leave the address,” she says, picking up a pen and scribbling on a nearby post-it.

My heart is in my throat. I stare, wide-eyed, as she proceeds to jot down the address—the address which I totally don’t need.

Rebekah slaps the post-it atop the box. “Just leave it at his door. He’s the only one on the top floor. He owns the whole thing. Thank you, Trevor.”

And then she’s off in a hurry, her heels clacking along the tile as she goes. I stare after her for a full minute, my protests dancing on my lips, unspoken.

“But …” I finally say, no one there at all to hear the tiny word.

My phone vibrates on the desk. I look down at it.

ELIJAH

You coming down, dude?? I’m waiting.

And very, very, very starved.

I bite my lip, my insides turning to ice. Is this really happening? Is the universe playing a joke on me that a ton of little scheming demons and Cupid-like half-gods are laughing hysterically at? I feel like the butt of some joke no one’s ballsy enough to say to my face.

I glance at Mr. Gage’s office, which I just now notice is dark. I didn’t even see him leave. I must have done a really great job at actually ignoring him for these past thirty minutes.