Landon
The truth is, I'll take any excuse to talk to her. Any excuse to see her. I've gone so far as to invent clients just for a reason to cross her path. I tell myself it's professional, that there's still a line I won't cross, but every time I stand in front of her desk, that line feels harder to see.
My attention drifts to the tiny things that somehow unravel me completely. The freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. The casual way she pushes her glasses back into place when they slide down. The curve of her lips when she speaks. Before I can lose myself any further, she cuts straight through my thoughts.
"Are you listening to me?" Laloni asks.
"Sorry, can you repeat that?" I reply quickly.
Her eye roll makes it clear she knows I wasn't paying attention.
"I said your customer must sign the contract before we begin any work on creating a new logo," she says with that painfully serious expression she wears when she thinks I'm not listening.
"I'll make sure they sign it."
She narrows her eyes slightly. "And make sure you actually read the contract this time instead of pretending to."
"I read the important parts."
"Landon, your signature was upside down."
I fight a grin. "That sounds more like a design choice."
She sighs, trying to stay annoyed, but I catch the corner of her mouth twitching.
"You're impossible."
"Yet you keep helping me."
Her fingers tap lightly against her desk as she looks up at me over the rim of her glasses. "Pretty sure that's in my job description."
"Damn. Here I was thinking you liked me."
She lets out a quiet laugh before quickly covering it with another serious look.
"Don't make this weird."
"Too late. I made eye contact."
"Tragic," she mutters, trying not to smile.
We lock eyes in silence, the moment stretching longer than it should. Somehow, it isn't awkward. It feels like we're speaking a language no one else in this office understands.
"You keep looking at me like that and someone's going to notice," she teases.
"Maybe I want them to," I reply.
Her expression falters for half a second before she looks back down at her computer.
"What exactly are we doing in here?" Carlynn's voice cuts through the room, sharp enough to snap us apart instantly.
Laloni drops her gaze back to her computer while I take a slow step away from her desk, like I haven't been standing there flirting for the last five minutes.
Carlynn leans against the doorway with her arms crossed, eyes moving between us carefully.
I suddenly feel sixteen again, getting caught doing something I shouldn't.
"Just contract stuff," I answer quickly. Too quickly.
Her eyebrow lifts slightly.
"A contract?" she repeats.
"Client wants us to start working on their logo design, but Laloni was reminding me about the contract we needed first."
The excuse sounds thinner the longer it hangs in the air.
Carlynn studies me for a second too long before tilting her head slightly. That look tells me she doesn't believe me nearly as much as she's pretending to.
"Landon," she says calmly, "when you have a moment, come see me in my office." There's an unnecessary amount of emphasis behind the request.
Guilt settles heavily in my stomach immediately. As Carlynn steps back into the hallway, I glance toward Laloni one last time. I see one little eye roll while she stares at her screen, a pen cap caught lightly between her lips while she pretends to focus on her work.
As I follow Carlynn down the hall, a familiar pit settles in my stomach.
A year ago, walking behind her like this would've filled me with anticipation. Now it just feels heavy.
The office is nearly empty this late in the evening.
Carlynn opens her office door and steps aside so I can walk in first. The second I hear the lock click behind me, regret crawls up my spine.
That sound used to excite me.
Now it only reminds me of the first time this happened. One stupid Friday night last year that somehow turned into a routine neither of us knows how to end.
Her office sits farther back than the others, tucked into the corner without windows. HR needed privacy, apparently. Turns out that privacy became dangerous for both of us.
Carlynn doesn't waste time. The second she reaches me, her hands grab the front of my shirt and her mouth crashes against mine. Fast and impatient. That's always been her style. No buildup. No hesitation. Just urgency. I kiss her back out of habit more than desire, already wanting it to be over before it's even started. My hands settle against her waist while my mind drifts somewhere else entirely.
Laloni.
I picture the curve of her neck beneath my mouth. The slow way her breathing would hitch if I kissed just below her ear. The soft sound she'd make if my hands slipped beneath her shirt. My movements slow the deeper the fantasy pulls me under. Because in my head, it isn't Carlynn pressed against me. It's her.
Then I open my eyes. And reality kills whatever interest I had left.
Carlynn pulls back slightly, frustrated already.
"You seem distracted," she mutters against my mouth. "We need to hurry up. Laloni's probably closing the office soon."
Hearing her name out loud is enough to snap whatever fragile focus I had left. I step back immediately, running a hand through my hair.
"Sorry," I say quietly. "I don't think this is gonna happen tonight."
Carlynn stares at me while I fix my clothes.
"Seriously?" Her voice pitches high with disbelief.
"It's been a long day." The excuse sounds weak even to me.
The truth is, I'm exhausted by this. By the routine. By pretending this still means something when it never really did. In the beginning, it was easy. Two people agreeing to keep things physical and uncomplicated. That stopped being true a long time ago. Somewhere along the way, Carlynn started wanting more than I could give her. Reassurance and attention, something more real. And every time she looks at me like she's waiting for me to finally choose her, guilt twists deeper in my chest. Because I already know I never will.
"Just forget it," she snaps, crossing her arms tightly. "I have plans tonight anyway."
The words are meant to sting. To make me jealous. Instead, relief settles over me so fast it almost feels cruel. Her expression hardens the second she realizes that. I catch the shine building in her eyes before she looks away.
Normally, this is the part where I pull her back in. Calm her down. Tell her what she wants to hear until the tension disappears.
But I'm too tired to fake it tonight.
Carlynn brushes past me and unlocks the door quickly before leaving the office without another word. A few seconds later, I hear her stop near Laloni's desk.
Instinctively, I move closer to the door, leaning just enough to hear their conversation through the narrow opening.
"Oh my gosh, Carlynn, what's wrong? What did he do now?" Laloni whispers.
That line shouldn't have bothered me as much as it di
"It's nothing. I'll call you tonight."
A minute later, her 1969 Dodge Challenger roars out of the parkinglot. Lately, her car holds my attention better than she does.
I walk back to the middle of the room and sit at her desk in silence, thinking about what they'll talk about during that phone call tonight. I already know how it will go. Carlynn crying and Laloni defending her. My name turning into a warning label before I ever had a real chance with her.
I daydream about what our life would look like if we were together. I picture the small things more than anything else. Driving to work together. Falling asleep during movies on Friday nights. Domestic shit I've never wanted with anyone else before.
I lose track of time sitting there until the office suddenly goes dark.
"Excuse me," I say, startling Laloni.
"What the hell are you doing in here? I saw Carlynn leave thirty minutes ago!"
"I was just trying to clear my head, and this is the only place I get to do that."
"Yeah? Doesn't look like that's the head you were thinking with," she says sarcastically, looking down at my unbuttoned pants.
"You jealous?" I spit out.
I regret the words the second they leave my mouth.
Her face flushes red, and she walks out.
"Shit," I whisper to myself.
I know deep down she is jealous. I hate the way her husband makes her feel unwanted. Especially when I spend half my day wanting nothing but her attention.
She opened up to me about his affairs after drinking a little too much at a work Christmas party last year. I'm the only one in the office who knows about that cheating situation. I can't help but feel anger toward her husband. If only he knew there was someone out there who wanted her and only her. I don't think she remembers telling me, so I refuse to bring it up. I barely remember the conversation itself.
I remember the moment after.
She leaned in first. Drunk enough to be honest. Close enough for me to feel her breath against my mouth.
And I pulled away.
At the time, I told myself I was doing the right thing. I didn't want her waking up regretting it in the morning. But I've regretted it ever since.
The rumble of my Harley-Davidson is the kind of sensation that dulls the clutter in my head and replaces it with something simpler, more primal. Today, that rumble feels heavier than usual. It presses into me, steady and hypnotic, until I can't tell whether it's exhausting me or calming me. Maybe it's both. The world narrows to asphalt and horizon, to the smell of fuel and the taste of wind. The bike doesn't ask questions. It doesn't hesitate. It just moves forward, carrying me inside its rolling thunder, letting the vibration smooth out the sharp edges of the day.
I pull into my driveway and sit on my bike, avoiding the inside of my house for as long as I can. Eventually, I muster the energy to get off and go inside.
"Daddy! You're home! Mommy and I missed you!"
