I stood in the entryway of a pristine, furnished luxury apartment, the faint smell of fresh paint and new furniture hanging in the air like a promise of the unknown. The white walls gleamed under the soft glow of recessed lighting, and the modern furnishings, sleek leather chairs and polished wood tables, looked as though they belonged in some high-end magazine. Shane and I would be the first tenants, which was both exciting and a little unsettling. It didn’t feel real. The room felt too perfect, as if it were waiting for us to make it ours.
My suitcase slipped down just inside the door as I released my grip, the weight of it light compared to the pressure in my chest. This was supposed to be temporary. Just for the summer. But the apartment, with its gleaming floors and oversized windows, made it feel like we were staying forever. I turned to check on Shane and saw him bounding up the stairs as if the oversized duffel bag strapped to his back weighed nothing. The muscles in his arms flexed with each step, a casual ease in the way he moved, and I couldn’t help but smile.
He pushed past me, dropping his bag next to mine, before pulling me inside with an energy that made everything else fade away. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in this new space, and without missing a beat, Shane’s lips found mine. His kiss was soft, yet urgent, as if we hadn’t just spent five hours on the road, but had been apart for much longer. My heart raced in response, our bodies aligning instinctively.
After a moment, he pulled back and led me in front of the large window. We stared out at the sterile courtyard below, the quiet, almost clinical landscape of matching beige buildings stretching out before us. It felt like we were in some pristine bubble, isolated from the world outside.
“Not much of a view, is it?” Shane’s voice was laced with humor, but I could hear the faintest edge of disappointment in it.
“No,” I agreed, feeling a pang of the same disconnection. But then I looked around again, at the glossy furniture, the rich textures. “But the furniture certainly looks high-end.”
Shane cocked an eyebrow, still standing behind me. “Are we allowed to sit on it?”
I grinned at his humor, my hands resting on the cool glass of the window. “Not only are we going to sit on it, but…” I lowered my voice, leaning back into him slightly, feeling the heat of his body against my skin. “We are going to fuck on it.”
Shane’s laughter vibrated through his chest, and I felt it deep in my bones. He pulled me a little closer, his breath warm on my ear. “You’re bad,” he murmured, but the way he said it was full of affection. “And, do you think they’re listening to us, like in that movie?” He laughed again, a little louder this time. “Who gives a shit, right? However,” his tone shifted slightly, growing more contemplative, “if they are filming us, we deserve a percentage.”
I snorted at the thought. “Come on. They don’t film guys with small dicks. So we have nothing to worry about.” I smirked, meeting his gaze with a challenge in my eyes.
Shane pinched his brows together, frowning as if genuinely offended, before looking me over in mock indignation. “I thought you said you liked my dick.”
“I do,” I said, stepping closer, pressing myself against him. “I have since the first time I saw it. I think it was about two inches long when you whipped it out to take a piss. What were we, about five?”
“Yeah, thereabouts. Even then, yours practically dragged on the ground.” He reached his hand down to grip me in his palm.
“Well, it’s your technique, my man. You know how to use what little you have.” I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear as I whispered, “Want to practice that technique? We haven’t checked out the bedroom yet.”
His eyes darkened, a playful edge creeping into his smile as he grabbed my shirt, yanking me toward him. “I’m going to pound your ass so bad, you’ll have trouble sitting at your orientation meeting tomorrow.”
I couldn’t help but fake a yawn, the tension between us thickening. “You failed to follow through on that threat so many times. But I haven’t given up on you yet.”
His chuckle was low and dangerous as he pulled his shirt off. His body was perfect, the muscle definition in his chest and abs catching the light. He stood there for a second, just letting me look, before smirking and commanding, “Kiss my nipples, you horny little bastard.”
“Little?” I echoed with a teasing grin, my fingers already working to undo the buttons of my own shirt as I moved toward him, eager to follow through.
Shane’s laugh echoed through the apartment as I leaned in, kissing his chest, the heat of his skin igniting something primal in me. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of his body against mine and the undeniable pull between us. That warmth forced me to reveal a truth that both of us already knew. I whispered, “You’re not really small, you know. You stretch me and fill me in a way that makes me know how much you love me. I…” Words escaped me at that moment.
Shane’s lips moved next to my ear. “I know.” His eyes locked with mine, and at that moment, I wanted him more than I ever had.
We spent the next hour making love in our new, temporary bedroom, the luxury mattress cradling our bodies as we lost ourselves in each other. The sheets, soft and cool against our skin, only added to the surreal feeling of it all. It was passionate and real, a perfect contrast to the sterile magazine-cover environment around us. The apartment was just a backdrop to what mattered most, the space we created together and the new memories we were making.
Any worries I had about being an intern were swept away almost immediately by a woman named Martha. She introduced herself as a human resources liaison, a title she delivered with a cheerful authority that made it sound more like “office ambassador.” Martha was somewhere in her fifties, with short auburn hair that curved neatly toward her jawline, and she wore a soft blue scarf that matched the calm brightness of her eyes. Her smile had the polished warmth of someone who had been welcoming new hires for years and still genuinely enjoyed it.
Within ten minutes, I was wearing a crisp plastic name badge clipped to my shirt, my first name printed in large, bold letters, my photo beneath it. (And, surprise, surprise, it was actually a decent photo. Martha said the camera had “a flattering setting,” and I was inclined to believe her.)
She led me through the office at a comfortable pace, the low hum of conversation and the occasional ring of a desk phone surrounding us. The air smelled faintly of brewed coffee and the mild lemony tang of floor cleaner. The space itself felt open and airy, rows of desks broken up by clusters of plants, splashes of color from motivational posters and bright screensavers. As we walked, Martha greeted nearly everyone by name, her tone as consistent as a pleasant radio announcer’s.
“We like to keep the names large,” she explained, tapping the badge on my chest, “so we always know who’s talking to us. For instance, ” She gestured toward a blond man in his forties, leaning casually against a cubicle wall. “Here’s Roger. He coordinates client visits and keeps our supplies in order.”
Roger turned toward me with an easy grin. His tie was slightly askew, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing tanned forearms and a wristwatch that looked both functional and expensive. “Hi, Taylor,” he said, his voice friendly and confident. “If you need anything, pencils, software, or the good brand of sticky notes, come see me. I’m your guy.”
“Thanks,” I said, a little dazzled by how nice everyone seemed. “Everyone’s so friendly,” I added to Martha as we moved along.
“People are more productive when the environment is a happy one,” she said, matter-of-factly. “In fact, there’s only one topic on the ‘don’t discuss at work’ list.” She paused as we passed a row of framed team photos on the wall, each group smiling in varying degrees of sincerity. “Personal relationship matters are for after-hours. So, if someone wants to ask you out or invite you to go clubbing, it has to wait until you’re off the clock. And the rule is, ask once. Twice is harassment. Simple, right?” She flashed me a knowing look. “It’s worked beautifully so far. There’s even a short singles meet-up after work on Thursdays. Check the bulletin board in the break room for details.”
I nodded, unsure how to respond. I certainly wouldn’t be attending a singles meeting. I hadn’t shared anything about my personal life, and no one had asked. Still, the mention of relationships tugged at my thoughts. Would there ever be something like a “couples’ meet-up”? Would Shane and I even go if there were? And what about once we had a baby? That was something we’d need to talk about soon. The thought made me smile faintly, then wonder how his morning was going.
Martha concluded the tour by showing me to my desk, a small but tidy space near a window that overlooked the street below. The morning light fell across the monitor and keyboard, lending everything a quiet, fresh energy. I had a printed sheet of instructions for setting up my company email, and I followed them carefully, enjoying the small satisfaction of seeing the account spring to life.
Martha told me that Stan would stop by soon to give me my first assignment and answer any questions. I took a deep breath, straightened a few papers that didn’t need straightening, and waited.
At eleven forty-five, two figures appeared beside my desk, Stan, tall and broad-shouldered with silvering hair and a calm, unhurried demeanor, and Amy, who had a quick smile and a bright floral dress that made her look like a walking burst of summer. “Ready for lunch?” Stan asked.
We went to a small Tex-Mex restaurant just a block away, the kind of place with clay-tiled floors and the faint sound of sizzling from the open kitchen. I ordered fajitas, and the smell of grilled peppers and onions instantly won me over. Between bites, Amy explained how lunch orders worked, five restaurants in rotation, orders placed a week in advance, five dollars each with the company covering the rest.
“Mr. Nedderman, he’s the owner, used to pay for everything,” Stan added, sipping his iced tea. “But when people didn’t have any skin in the game, half the meals went untouched. Now, not a crumb goes to waste.”
I laughed, genuinely at ease for the first time all day. By the time we walked back to the office, the sun was high and warm, and I found myself already hoping that the rest of my internship would feel as promising as this first morning had.
Shane was waiting in the parking lot for me when I got off.
About ten minutes before the end of the day, a man in his mid-twenties appeared at my desk. Even before he reached me, I caught sight of his name on the badge that bounced against his chest with each step, Lyle. He had a boyish face framed by hair that was short but rebelliously tousled, as though it had resisted every attempt at order that morning. His shirt sleeves were rolled halfway up his forearms, revealing a faint tan and a scuffed leather watch that had seen better days.
“Hey,” he said easily, resting a hand on the edge of my desk. “I’m Lyle. I was an intern here a few years ago. Just wanted to make sure you’ve got someone to reach out to after hours if you ever need anything, dire emergencies, printer malfunctions, restaurant recommendations.” His grin made it clear he’d rehearsed the line before.
I found myself smiling back as I entered his contact information into my phone.
“It’s not quite four-thirty yet,” he continued, glancing at the clock. “So technically, I can’t ask you anything personal. Can’t pump you for info, though I’m dying to know more about you. But, I can offer to walk you out. Office rules don’t say anything about that.”
“Sure,” I said, laughing softly. “I don’t have a car, but my boyfriend is picking me up today. I’ll probably walk most days since we live right across the street.”
Lyle’s eyebrows shot up for just an instant, surprise flickering across his face like a match being struck. My stomach clenched. Oh no. I’d just dropped the word boyfriend. Was that against the “no personal details” policy? Was Lyle disappointed because he’d been interested? Or was I reading too much into his expression?
“That’s cool,” he said quickly, lowering his voice. “I’m picking up my boyfriend after we leave here.”
I exhaled, smiling with relief.
A moment later, my phone buzzed. I turned it over and saw a text from Shane:
It’s four-thirty. Where are you? My lips miss you.
I couldn’t help but chuckle aloud.
Lyle’s grin widened. “I bet I know who that’s from. And judging by that look on your face, I’m guessing it’s a pretty new relationship.”
I made a loud buzzer sound. “Wrong. We met when we were five, in Kindergarten. Always close, but finally admitted how we felt about each other about three years ago.”
“That’s sweet,” Lyle said with genuine warmth. He pointed to a doorway about fifteen feet away. “Stairs are the fastest route to the first floor. Elevator’s slow as death.”
“Lead the way,” I said.
The stairwell was dim and cool after the hum of the office. Our footsteps echoed on the concrete steps, and for a while, neither of us spoke. When we pushed through the doors to the outside, sunlight hit us like a soft slap, golden, warm, and filled with that late-afternoon buzz of car engines and birdsong.
Lyle shaded his eyes and said, “My boyfriend’s name is Freddie. He was my lab partner in a biology class I didn’t even want to take. I went to UT. Fell for him the minute he started talking about chlorophyll.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Took a Friday night study session and a few beers for him to admit he liked me too. His parents disowned him when we came out, so… yeah. It was rough for a while. But he told me later he fell for me during our first lab assignment, when I had to pick up one of those worms with those little soil-gripping things. He said I made a cute face. I was just trying not to puke.”
I burst out laughing. There was something instantly disarming about Lyle; he carried his stories like gifts he was happy to share. “I like you,” I said simply. “You’re real.”
“Mutual,” he replied with a grin. “So, where’s this boyfriend of yours?”
I nodded toward the line of cars near the edge of the lot. “Over there, in the pickup.”
Lyle’s eyebrows arched again, but this time in amusement. “Your boyfriend’s name is Shane, and he drives a pickup truck? That’s so f-ing hot. You’re a lucky man, you know that?”
A lump formed in my throat before I could respond. I felt my eyes sting. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “Luckiest man on the planet.”
Lyle smiled wide, his teeth catching the sunlight. “Careful, I might have to fight you for that title.”
“Watch yourself,” I warned playfully. “Shane’s an athlete. He’ll beat the crap out of anyone who even looks at me wrong.”
I was still grinning when a shadow fell across us. I turned, and there he was.
Shane.
Even after all this time, seeing him still hit me like a punch of warmth to the chest. His sandy hair was windblown, and the sunlight caught in his green eyes, making them sparkle with life. He was wearing a faded maroon T-shirt that hugged his shoulders just right, and when his gaze met mine, every trace of the day’s tension disappeared.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow creasing slightly.
“Nothing,” I said, my voice softer now. “Everything’s perfect. Shane, meet my new, second-best friend. This is Lyle.”
The late afternoon sun slanted low across the parking lot as Shane and I climbed into the truck. The metal was warm to the touch, radiating the heat of the day, and the faint smell of leather and Shane’s cologne filled the cab, a scent that was distinctly his. When the engine turned over, the vibration hummed through the seat beneath me, steady and familiar.
We pulled out of the lot, and I noticed he turned away from our apartment complex.
“So,” I asked, glancing at him, “where are we headed?”
“Man does not live by spunk alone,” he said with mock seriousness, eyes glinting as he reached for my hand. “I want some meat.”
I barked a laugh. “I gave you some meat yesterday. I thought you said it filled you up.”
He gave me that crooked grin that always managed to undo me. “Your meat is like Chinese food,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Plus, you give it to me, and then you take it away.” He turned left at the next intersection, sunlight flashing off the windshield. “I heard there’s a great burger place just down this road.”
I nodded, smiling to myself. He’d said we should eat more meals at home to save money. Something told me not to remind him now.
“Besides,” he continued, “I had a pretty good day. I like my professor, and I got a part-time job in the computer lab. So we’re celebrating.”
“Congratulations!” I said, turning toward him. “I didn’t even know you were looking for a job.”
He shrugged one shoulder, his hand loose on the wheel. “I wasn’t. This one kind of fell into my lap. They’ll train me on the networking systems for the labs at school. It’s right after class, and someone else comes in at three, so I’ll be able to head home before you even get off. It’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect,” I said softly. “Or as perfect as a human can be.”
He shot me a sideways smile that was all warmth and sunlight.
“Oh, before I forget,” he said. “I got a voicemail. The lawyer sent over some paperwork for you to sign. He wants to make sure it gets done quickly. He said everything’s in the email, no need to call unless you’ve got questions.”
“I hope he’s found someone to take over the house,” I said, feeling the usual tightness in my chest at the thought. “That’ll be a huge relief.”
Something in Shane’s expression shifted, just a flicker, but enough for me to notice.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, but his voice had softened. “Just a weird dream last night. About the house. Or… maybe about Gertrude and Roger.”
I frowned. “What kind of dream?”
He hesitated before answering. “I was on the beach,” he said finally, his tone quieter now. “They came up out of the sand, like they’d been buried there, and grabbed me. Tried to pull me down. The waves were crashing around my feet, cold and hard. They were slimy, strong. I could feel them wrapping around my legs. I woke up just before they dragged me under.” He paused, then gave a half-laugh. “At first I thought maybe I just needed to pee because of the water, but I didn’t.”
“Oh, babe,” I said gently. “That’s awful. Your brain’s just making monsters out of the memories. They can’t touch us now.” I reached over and brushed the back of my hand against his arm. “I’ll check the email tonight and sign whatever he sent. We’ll put all that behind us.”
He exhaled slowly, the tension melting from his shoulders. For a while, we rode in silence, the road unspooling ahead of us, flat, sun-baked asphalt lined with the occasional oak and a scattering of small storefronts. The air in the truck was cool, the kind of quiet that only comes when everything feels right in your world.
Then, softly, almost to himself, Shane said, “Are people allowed to be as happy as we are?”
I turned toward him, smiling. “I don’t know,” I started to say.
And that was when the reflection from another car flashed, sudden, blinding, far too close.
There was the sound of rubber shrieking against asphalt, the violent jolt of motion, and then nothing but the shattering impact as a car driven by an inebriated driver hit us head-on.
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