Rachel Van Dyken
Ava
I would marry this sandwich.
If there was a priest, a minister, a rabbi, I would stop them on their way to order their food and beg for it.
Beg.
I know it’s ridiculous to have tears continuously run down your face in a Subway restaurant while you’re holding a turkey sandwich, but I don’t think I’m at the point where I have any pride anymore. I just want food, and I’ve been without it for so long that I want to cry.
A tear runs down my cheek when I take my next bite. Before I know it, the entire sandwich is nearly gone and I’m finally able to breathe, or at least take a deep breath and think about my future.
I have a place to sleep that isn’t a homeless shelter.
I have a job that’s going to pay me real money.
And I also have a super grumpy boss who I don’t understand at all but, at the end of the day, if he just sticks to himself, then we’ll be fine.
I shiver.
I’m not attracted to him. That would be wrong and weird. Instead, I’m just… agitated, he throws me off in a way I wasn’t expecting; it didn’t help that he is so beautiful that I nearly choked on my tongue.
Had he asked me to do some fast math, I would have just stared at him and probably drooled.
So very professional of me.
I take one last bite and wrap everything together with the napkins, then get up and toss everything in the trash.
I don’t realize I’m being watched until I see him.
My boss.
The grumpy alpha dude with a clear personality disorder.
He stares at me for a few seconds, then just leaves.
“Okay,” I whisper under my breath. “Not weird at all.”
I leave Subway and start walking toward the building, fully aware that since we’re both probably going to the same place that it looks like I’m following him
He walks into the giant glass building.
I follow.
Both of us scan our cards through security and stare at the same elevator even though they literally have eight.
“You ate then?” he finally asks.
“Yeah, I ate an entire sandwich and almost ate the entire store. I think I’m good.”
“Hmmm.” He reaches for my face with his massive hand, then pulls back. “You probably still need more food. Go sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
We get into the elevator and all I can think about is the way he smells. Like the woods, but also like burning incense full of cinnamon.
I want to jump him for no reason other than I’m suddenly so hot I don’t know what else to do with my life. Why does he feel like the cure for everything?
I move closer to him.
He moves away from me.
I take another step.
He looks down and I swear the guy’s so horrified you’d think he just saw a werewolf or something. “Is that a hair?”
“What?”
“Hair.” He points at his black jacket; his pointer finger is literally shaking. “I don’t do hair, it freaks me out, hate hair, doesn’t belong on other people unless it’s attached.” He starts to gag and then he points at it. “I need it gone.”
“Okay?”
“Is that a question?”
“Um, sure?” Seriously, what’s with this guy? I mean, thanks for the food, but I didn’t have a CEO losing his mind over a strand of hair in an elevator on my bingo card for this year. “Do you want me to just…” I move toward him, my fingers graze the hair as I bat it away from his suit. “There, no more hair.”
He rewards me with food and I reward him with the ability to flick a piece of hair that doesn’t even belong to me, off his body..
Does that mean we’re even?
I open my mouth to ask when he shudders, his broad shoulders shaking like he still has shivers down his spine.
“Trichophobia?” I call out just as he steps outside the elevator and looks over his shoulder at me.
He adjusts the collar of his shirt. “Yeah, something like that… it triggers me.”
Does everything trigger him? “Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll be careful when I wear black.”
He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut—the clean lines of his sculpted face were nearly impossible to stare at, even when he looked angry like he did in that moment.
Was it what I said?
“Good.” He clips out. “Have a nice evening.”
“You too!” I call after him, but he doesn’t turn around again. He heads to the corner apartment that takes up around half the floor, scans a keycard over it, walks in, allowing it to slam behind him.
I jump a foot and press a hand to my chest, then slowly walk in the same direction. I quickly realize the company apartment I was given… means I’m his new neighbor.
I don’t think he would accept me baking cookies for him or hosting a welcoming party.
But at least I have a place to sleep.
I face the stark white door and run my shiny silver card over it.
It flashes green and allows me in instantly.
My jaw drops when I walk into the fully open floor plan with twelve-foot ceilings, floor to ceiling windows overlook the city all around me.
All I can think is, who cleans these windows? Who’s brave enough to be on the tenth floor even?
It’s sparsely furnished.
There’s one nice plush looking blue couch facing a flatscreen TV with two other bare brown leather chairs opposite and a freaking ginormous kitchen that’s painted all white with small brown accents above the cupboards. The breakfast bar alone could seat at least six people. Matching brown barstools sit in front of the white granite, but I notice too late there’s really nothing but dishes.
I can use the money they gave me to go out and find something to cook later or for breakfast.
I wonder if I even have a pillow or sheets? Not that I’m greedy.
I walk into the primary bedroom, it’s really big and faces the park.
There’s a large bed with a purple cloth headboard and plastic still on the mattress. I check the large walk in close and while I’m impressed by the sheer massiveness of it, I don’t find pillows or blankets anywhere.
I still need to eat breakfast tomorrow, so I decide to sleep on the couch in the clothes I have on. I’m thankful I still have a bag of stuff I can grab from the shelter.
Speaking of, I need to go back and grab the one bag of things I have left there.
A knock suddenly sounds at my door.
Who even knows I’m here other than Gabe and Eli? I’ve covered my tracks well, but I still semi-panic when I walk to the door and look through the peephole. I see a person holding bags, tons and tons of bags, but I see no face.
“Get a grip, it’s fine,” I mutter to myself and take a deep breath, cracking the door open. “Yes?”
“Let me in. I have your things.” The man sounds just like Eli but he’s wearing a black tight t-shirt, tight ripped jeans, a far stretch from the controlling billionaire I just saved from a hair. How did he even have time to find things?
Is he wearing sneakers?
I open the door wider. “You must be the delivery guy?”
“Delivery.” He grunts and walks into my apartment like he’s been there a million times. “But I’m not just some guy. Some might call me your boss, but you can address me by my first name. Get the stuff from the hall?”
“More things?” I asked.
“I’m very talented at ordering.” He drops tons of bags from various stores onto my couch and puts his hands on his hips. “Or I guess you could say me and Gabe ordered you everything you might need and had it delivered.”
I can’t help it. I can’t breathe just staring at him. Muscles flex beneath his t-shirt and without the suit to make him look like every other guy in business—now he just looks like he needs to brawl with Jon Cena and get it over with.
A tribal tattoo is drawn down his left arm all the way to his wrist and stops. It’s simple and black, but it looks so intricate that I wonder what it could be?
His other arm is bare.
I stare harder. It’s a picture of the moon and water reflecting off of it, with trees surrounding it all the way down. Lettering I don’t recognize, maybe Latin? Etches itself down his forearm.
“What’s all this for?” I ask, shaking my head away from his body and reminding myself that he hired me to do a job, and I’d be a horrible person to do to him, what several bosses had already done to me.
I put my professional face back on and wait.
“Well…” He frowns. “You didn’t get the rest of the bags from the hall?”
“How did you even carry that much?” I point at the stack of bags, there has to be at least twenty and they aren’t small. I quickly rush to the front door and look down the hall. “Did you rob someone?”
He snorts. “Like I’d need to. No, this is all provided by the company until the first paycheck. Food, cell phone coverage, clothing which I didn’t pick out because I didn’t have time but…” He hands me over a black titanium card. “…you’ll go shopping during your two-hour lunch break tomorrow or if you give Gabe your measurements, we’ll make sure to have things delivered to the office for you to try on. We have a certain expectation of our employees, so don’t think of this as charity. It's merely how we run things.”
I don’t take the card. I shake my head and stutter. “I-I think I’ll just tell Gabe my measurements so we can get right to work.”
He frowns, cocking his head to the side before putting his card back in his wallet. “Gotta say, I’ve never had anyone turn down an unlimited shopping excursion.”
“I’m not everyone, and I want to prove myself.”
His face goes still as he grips the granite countertop, his fingers dig in. “What did you do when you got in here?”
“Took a self tour, why?”
He sniffs the air again. “You didn’t put on perfume or anything?”
I frown. “I don’t exactly carry that sort of thing in my purse for times like this.”
His eyes roll back and then he squeezes them shut. “The bags, you should get the bags.”
“Oh, right!” I grab another twenty bags from the hallway and set them on the counter. I have basically everything I need, not just for a starter apartment, but to cook basically anything I could imagine. I even have paper towels! I almost dance when I see all of the cans of food and fresh vegetables. Not only that, but I have a pillow, my very first real pillow in two years, along with sheets, a down comforter, towels. They went all out, and I love it.
Meat!
“Thank you!” I nearly collide into his chest, then stumble forward and do exactly that.
He catches me by the arms.
I grip his biceps back.
I’m so close I can smell him, really smell him… he’s like the outdoors, but warm. His grip intensifies on my body until it’s nearly painful.
Slowly, I look up into his eyes and gulp.
They’re flashing so blue that it looks unworldly, his lips part but nothing comes out. Is he sniffing the air again?
He looks like he’s losing a battle I’m not aware of when he releases me and steps back, hands slightly shaking. “Sorry, I don’t like being touched. It’s not your fault.” He sidesteps me and bolts toward the door. “See you at six am!”
What the hell was that?