DRUNK Night

Dovan woke first.
The light from the office windows cut through the room in sharp lines, too bright, too real. His head throbbed, his body heavy as he tried to piece together how he’d ended up… here.
The couch.
The desk.
The floor.
His breath caught.
Then it hit him.
Everything.
He sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair, his pulse instantly racing. His clothes were nowhere in sight—just scattered across the office like evidence he couldn’t erase.
“Damn…”
Behind him, there was a slow movement.
Dylan.
Still half-asleep, stretched out like none of this carried the weight it should. Like the night before hadn’t changed everything.
But it had.
Dovan stood quickly, grabbing his shirt off the floor, pulling it on without even bothering to button it. His mind was already racing ahead—home, his wife, his child.
What had he done?
“You always wake up this dramatic?” Dylan’s voice was rough with sleep, but calm. Too calm.
Dovan didn’t turn around right away. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Dylan sat up, reaching for his own clothes, movements slower, more deliberate. There was no panic in him—just a quiet awareness.
That almost made it worse.
Dovan finally faced him. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.”
Dylan met his eyes, steady. “But it did.”
Silence filled the space again—but it wasn’t the same as before. This one was heavier. Colder.
“I have a family,” Dovan said, his voice lower now, strained. “A wife. A baby.”
“I know.”
Those two words hit harder than anything else.
“You knew… and you still—”
“Donovan,” Dylan cut in gently, standing now, fully dressed, composed. “Don’t act like I forced you into anything.”
Dovan’s jaw tightened.
Because he couldn’t argue that.
Because deep down… he knew the truth.
He had wanted it.
Even if he hated himself for it now.
“I’m not doing this again,” Dovan said firmly, grabbing his jacket like he could put distance between them just by moving.
Dylan watched him carefully. “You sure about that?”
Dovan didn’t answer.
Because certainty felt impossible right now.
Because even standing there, looking at Dylan, he could still feel the pull. The tension. The same one that had snapped the night before.
“That was a mistake,” Dovan forced out.
Dylan stepped closer—not touching, but close enough to remind him of everything.
“Then we’ll call it that,” Dylan said quietly. “If that’s what you need.”
That’s what you need.
Not what it was.
Not what it meant.
Dovan grabbed his things and headed for the door, not trusting himself to stay another second.
But as he reached for the handle—
“See you at the meeting, boss.”
Dylan’s voice was smooth again. Professional. Controlled.
Like nothing happen

Before he could even respond, the door opened.
“Hey boss—did you sleep here?”
Mary Jo.
Dovan froze for half a second too long before looking up. His assistant stood in the doorway, coffee in hand, her eyes scanning the room just a little too carefully.
“I had a late night,” he said quickly, forcing a neutral tone.
Mary Jo stepped in, placing the coffee on his desk. “I can tell.”
Her gaze flicked to the couch.
Then the floor.
Then back to him.
Dovan’s jaw tightened. “Something you need?”
She raised an eyebrow slightly, not intimidated—but not pushing too far either. “You’ve got a 9 a.m. meeting. In twenty minutes.”
“I’m aware.”
Another pause.
Too long.
Mary Jo crossed her arms lightly. “You know… cleaning usually comes after the late-night work session.”
Dovan followed her glance.
A cufflink.
Not his.
Sitting near the leg of the couch.
His stomach dropped.
Without thinking, he stood, moving quickly to pick it up. “I’ve got it handled.”
Mary Jo tilted her head, watching him. “Right…”
There was curiosity in her eyes now. Suspicion.
Danger.
Dovan slipped the cufflink into his pocket like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t proof of something that could destroy everything.
“You’re still here,” he said, sharper than intended.
Mary Jo smirked slightly. “Just making sure you’re alive. You look… off.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh.”
She turned toward the door, but paused before leaving.
“Just so you know,” she added casually, “Dylan’s already here.”
Dovan’s heart skipped.
Of course he was.