Day 1
Tori
I checked the clock for the fourth, no, fifth time in ten minutes. The numbers glared back, daring me to pretend I was invested in crunching client data instead of daydreaming about the man across the office.
East Hunter.
If temptation wore tailored suits and a devil’s smile, he’d be it. The way his shirt clung to his body, every shift of muscle, every careless brush of the cuff, made even my worst day a little less intolerable. But his eyes? Those were the real danger. Dark, gray and sharp. I could drown in them if he gave me half a chance.
Focus. I was supposed to be working. Instead, I was watching East like he was my favorite movie, half-worried he’d catch me staring. God, if only I cared about this job half as much as I cared about the man who made showing up worthwhile.
A shadow fell across my desk. I blinked, fingers frozen on the keys.
“Hey, East! How’s it going?” The words tumbled out with too much effort.
He grinned and raised a brow. “Torianna, right? I’m good. How about you?”
Torianna. I tried not to spiral over how my real name sounded in his voice, how I’d gone from just another analyst to someone who sat in his line of sight.
“I’m fine. Tori’s fine, actually.” Did I sound normal? Was my hair okay? Lip gloss not smudged? “Yeah, just, uh, busy.” I continue.
God, please let my deodorant hold.
“Glad to hear it, Tori.” He glanced over his shoulder before walking away, leaving me to replay the moment on a loop.
This was embarrassing. I was twenty-six, an adult who had been through heartbreak and bad dates and vanilla Jacob, yet I felt like a teenager whenever East so much as looked in my direction.
Emi slides her chair in next to me, all curly hair and side-eyes. “You are so obvious,” she muttered. “Obsessed much?”
I gave her my best innocent face. “Shush. When did you get here?”
“I was here the whole time, but you wouldn’t have noticed. You were too busy mentally undressing your boss. And, let’s be real, he sees you too.”
That sent a zing straight to my heart. “What if he is interested? Why hasn’t he said anything?”
Emi rolled her eyes. “It’s called boundaries, Tori. You have a boyfriend, remember? Jacob Astor?”
I glanced at my desk, where Jacob’s picture had been. Had being the operative word.
“Yeah, I know, but—”
“Also, you work here. He’s higher up. Office flings look fun on TikTok, but reality is a bitch.”
I groaned. “Yeah, he doesn't seem like he's down for office flings.” My inbox chimed, as if the universe wanted me to pay attention to something other than my emotional spiral.
Emi nudged me. “So stop fantasizing about East and address your relationship issues like a grown-up.”
“Rude.”
“Nah, just honest. When was the last time you and Jacob did anything fun?”
I sighed. “I asked him about a road trip. He shut it down like I suggested murder.”
Emi’s brows lifted. “The guy who used to streak in college is now allergic to adventure?”
I smirked. “People change. He’s content with routines and movie nights and missionary. Always missionary.”
Emi grinned. “I remember you claiming he was too big for comfort. Now he’s too predictable.”
“It’s true. Technically, he hasn’t shrunk. We just don’t stretch the boundaries.”
“Maybe that’s why East looks like dessert to you right now.”
A blush crept up my neck. “It’s not just sex, Em. I want something more.”
She softened. “So talk to Jacob. Tell him what you need. Otherwise, you’ll spend all day daydreaming about your boss and never get what you actually want.”
Later, after work and too much overthinking, I curled up on Jacob’s chest. His laughter hummed in his ribcage, his arms strong and familiar around me. My fingers mapped the hard lines of his stomach, the places I’d once memorized in the dark. His scent, warm, sweet, citrus and amber, wrapped around me like a promise of safety.
He brushed back my hair, blue eyes gentling. “I’m here, Pippa.” A kiss on my nose. He's so sweet.
I thought about spilling everything: the restlessness, the ache for something fun and different, but the words withered and disappeared, lost to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe not.
For now, I let myself sink into him. He's a little too predictable, but still mine.
that’s difficult