Where rough gems were polished and turned into fancy diamonds, then packaged in rings and necklaces with a price tag that was ten times the original value.
Here, we weren’t encouraged to be creative. Rhode got to do all that, and then she just sent her orders off for everyone else to see through.
Maybe that was normal, but it was disappointing if that was the case.
Sending off a few final emails that I needed to be in a graphic designer’s inbox first thing tomorrow morning, I got to my feet and stretched. My back was already aching, and I needed to go for a run to pound out the day’s tensions.
Before I pounded Devlin.
A smile played on my lips at the thought, and I reached for my jacket, shrugged into it, before turning around to begin gathering my possessions together so I could leave.
“That’s a dirty smile.”
I jerked in surprise as I pocketed my things, not having realized Rhode was standing so close to my cubicle.
“Is it?” I mumbled, said smile faltering and turning wary as she perched on the side of Cassandra’s empty desk, which explained why the VP had come out—to find her assistant. “Cassandra’s in the restroom,” I informed her, hoping that would make her get up and go.
Rhode wafted a disinterested hand, then peered at me. She had a weird way of looking over her glasses that made you feel as if you were beneath a scientist’s microscope. Maybe that was someone’s idea of a good time, but it wasn’t mine.
“You have plans for tonight?” She tutted. “And on a school night too,” she tacked on before I could reply.
“I plan to run,” I told her truthfully.
Her gaze drifted down over me. “That explains a lot. You look too bulky to be a runner though. Did you play ball in college?”
I shook my head. “Just in high school.”
“Quarterback?”
“Linebacker.”
Her lips twisted. “With a face like that and a spot on the team, I’ll bet you were Prom King.”
“Mostly because of my girlfriend,” I told her, refraining from adding on the word ‘ex.’ “She was head cheerleader.”
“Of course she was. Such a cliché, but you’re pretty enough to work it.” She hummed as she stood up, straightening her skirt as she did so. I wasn’t sure if the flash of her tits as she leaned over was intentional or not but I quickly looked away, pretending that I was reaching into my drawer to grab something when my wallet and cell were both in my pocket.
“Enjoy your run, Micah,” she said smoothly, stepping away with a click-clack of those heels she wore.
“Have a good night, Rhode,” I called out, turning to watch her waddle away.
Did straight men fail to spot the gravitational issues she had with staying straight on those stilts?
I wondered if they didn’t care and preferred to think of them digging into their ass cheeks... it was a distinct possibility.
A weird swell of relief surged inside me at the odd thought. I didn’t need to pretend anymore.
God, talk about a weight off.
Chelsea, my ex, had worn high heels for parties, and she’d seemed to think they’d turn me on. I’d had more bruises on my butt from those damn shoes than from football training.
Though I doubted Devlin would dig those custom Italian Oxfords into my ass, I much preferred that as an option.
Rhode staggering off in a manner I assumed was supposed to be enticing because, from the corner of my eye, I saw she looked over her shoulder when she was in her office to see if I was watching, was a delicious reminder of my change in circumstances.
Even if Devlin was grouchy as hell tonight, I’d deal with it.
Even if he was awkward again, I preferred it to talking about TikTok or IG with Chelsea.
Maybe it was crazy for me to keep on persevering with him when I could just head to VICE again, but VICE didn’t have Devlin.
And, Lord help me, he was the one I wanted.
It might not be forever, but for the moment, I wanted to crack his shell. Wanted to understand him and how he worked. And, of course, I wanted to fuck him again, because I had the discomforting feeling nothing and no one would ever feel as good as he did.
As I headed out of the department and toward the elevator, closing my eyes as it chugged its way down to the vestibule, I thought about last night’s date.
We’d ended up discussing the futures’ market and some IPOs that were interesting. Though I’d enjoyed it, Devlin had clung onto each subject like it was a life raft. Why I scared him so much, I wasn’t sure. He never allowed silence to fall between us for long, and until now, hadn’t even let me kiss him again.
Or vice versa.
Whatever I’d expected when he’d invited me over for dinner, three nights in a row, it wasn’t sex-less dinner dates.
I mean, I wasn’t complaining. I liked what we talked about, and he was so ill-at-ease it was close to amusing, plus his apartment was fantastic. After my place which was too small for me to hold my arms wide apart, being back in decent surroundings was a joy. Then there was the food he served and the wine we shared.
Devlin, for all he was as edgy as a cat on a hot tin roof, knew how to be a good host. And while his hosting skills weren’t all I was interested in, my evenings were a lot more entertaining than before that night at VICE.
With relief, I made it to the vestibule, eyes popping open just as I knew we were approaching the first floor. I always waited until past the rush to get out of the building because I couldn’t deal with the elevator or atrium being jam-packed, not after a long day at work. Seeing Rachel wasn’t at her desk, I wandered out onto the busy streets and headed for my bus stop.
Once upon a time, I’d have just grabbed a taxi and wouldn’t have thought anything of it. My first year, Dad had made a driver service available to me because Mom had been worried about me in the Big Apple.
Funny how they could do that then but didn’t care about me now.
Or maybe they still cared, just not enough to let me be me?
Either way, the driver service was long gone.
That was why it was weird dating Devlin. It was a reminder of what I’d lost, but I didn’t exactly miss it. And if that was privilege speaking, then so be it. I sure as hell didn’t feel privileged with the chaotic bus journey ahead of me, but nothing was worth being pigeon-holed, nothing.
I was just glad I’d learned that at my age, not after I’d been forced to marry Chelsea, father a couple of kids with her, then crack up, divorce, and finally come out when I was in my forties.
Shuddering at the fate my family wanted for me, I made it to the stop just in time.
As I got onto the busy bus, I grabbed one of the few remaining seats. Though it was hectic with people, I preferred it to the subway when I could swing it. It took longer, but it was worth it not to have to deal with the crowds and the odd pressure in my chest that I always felt. I was sure, one day, I’d head down those stairs into the subway, and the ceiling would cave in and the city would tumble in after it.
Talk about hell.
The forty-minute bus ride wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could do. Fort George was a little out of my means, too close to the city to be cheap, but I budgeted as best I could to make it work.
In the morning, for speed’s sake, I dealt with the horror of the subway because arriving late to an internship that could make or break my resumé was more of a nightmare than the trains.