At half past eight, Jake was already at his desk, looking over his diary before checking Dylan's calendar on screen.
He noticed Dylan had booked a squash court with a client at four o'clock that afternoon.
His concentration immediately began to drift.
I wonder what he'd look like in his squash kit...
Right on cue, Dylan walked through the office doors. He was, as always, perfectly on time, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his squash racket in the other hand.
"Morning, Dylan."
"Morning, Jake."
"Your nine o'clock has been cancelled, but I've left the slot free in case you want to catch up on anything."
"Thanks, Jake. You're a star."
He lowered his voice slightly.
"I'm a bit hungover this morning... sssh... our little secret."
Then he gave Jake that familiar wink.
God... I melt every time he does that.
Fuck. Concentrate.
Jake smiled.
Dylan smiled back before disappearing into his office and quietly closing the door.
Christ... he looked sexy today.
Navy suit.
Matching tie.
Jet-black shirt.
Jake shook his head.
Rachel looked across at him from her desk and smirked.
"Down, boy."
Jake couldn't help grinning. He gave her a cheeky wink.
She simply laughed.
The morning passed much like every other.
Jake looked busy.
He answered emails.
Organised meetings.
Moved appointments around.
Answered calls.
And whenever Dylan walked past, Jake couldn't help stealing the occasional glance.
Now and then Dylan would lean over Jake's shoulder to look at something on his screen.
Jake always tried to remain calm.
He never succeeded.
His pulse quickened.
His cheeks grew warm.
He was fairly sure he'd gone bright red more than once.
Then there was Dylan's scent.
A mixture of aftershave, shampoo and whatever hair product he used.
Jake couldn't get enough of it.
I am so into my bloody boss.
Later that morning, Dylan was holding a meeting with Julien.
Jake couldn't stop himself noticing Dylan's black socks as he sat back on the leather sofa.
The afternoon drifted by.
Jake tried to concentrate on work, but now and then his mind wandered back to Dylan in his squash kit.
Rachel had already packed up for the day.
"Down, boy," she laughed as she picked up her handbag.
Jake just rolled his eyes.
"I've been perfectly professional."
Rachel burst out laughing.
"Of course you have."
About forty-five minutes later, the office phone rang.
Jake answered immediately.
"Sally?"
She never called the office line. Normally she'd ring Dylan's mobile.
Her voice sounded strained.
"Hi, Jake... is Dylan still there?"
"I'm afraid not. He's playing squash with a client."
There was a short silence.
"Oh..."
"Is everything all right?"
"I've had a bit of an accident."
Jake immediately sat up.
"What happened?"
"I've slipped and fallen. I'm at Royal Bournemouth Hospital. They think I've broken my arm."
"Oh no..."
" I'm in A&E, and I can't get hold of Dylan."
"I'll go and find him," Jake said without hesitation.
"Thank you so much."
"Don't worry. I'll tell him straight away."
The company's gym was only a few minutes' walk away in another building that was still being completed.
Jake grabbed his jacket.
It was June, warm outside, but he still preferred to look smart.
Six minutes later, he arrived at reception.
"Court Two?" he asked.
The receptionist nodded.
Jake thanked him before making his way to the court.
Inside, Dylan and his client were in the middle of a rally.
Both stopped as soon as they saw him.
"Sorry to interrupt..."
Dylan frowned.
"Everything okay?"
"Sally's just called."
Immediately his expression changed.
"What is it?"
"She's at Royal Bournemouth Hospital."
His face drained.
"She's slipped and broken her arm. They're treating her in A&E."
Without hesitation, the client lowered his racket.
"Go."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely. Go and look after your wife."
"Thanks."
Dylan didn't need asking twice.
They hurried towards the changing rooms together.
"I won't bother getting changed," Dylan said, already pulling open his locker.
He started rummaging through his bag for his car keys.
In his rush, everything tumbled onto the floor.
His clothes.
His phone.
His keys.
Crack.
The unmistakable sound made them both freeze.
His iPhone had landed face down on the tiles.
The screen was shattered.
"For God's sake..."
He picked it up, staring at the spiderweb of cracks.
"Fuck... fuck... fuck..."
His cheeks flushed bright red against his pale skin.
Jake instinctively reached into his pocket.
"Use mine."
Dylan looked up.
"I haven't got time to sort that out."
"You don't have to. Just ring Sally on my phone."
Dylan took it without another word.
"Sally? It's me... I'm on my way."
Jake quietly gathered the clothes from the floor while Dylan spoke.
When he ended the call, he looked at Jake.
"One favour?"
"Of course."
"Could you pack my things away and hang my suit up in my office? I'll collect everything on Monday."
"No problem."
"Thanks."
With that, Dylan hurried out of the changing rooms and disappeared towards the car park.
Jake watched him leave.
I hope Sally's going to be okay.
Then he looked down.
Dylan's clothes were scattered across the bench.
His shirt.
His suit.
His loafers.
His socks.
His Hugo Boss trunks.
Jake's heart started pounding.
For two years he'd wanking about those socks.
Now they were right in front of him.
Alone.
