Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Hayes

T here’s a soft knock on my partly open office door at work. Most of what I do is from the Rockwell regional corporate office in LA. We have three across the United States, with the global headquarters in New York, where my parents are.

I’ve spent plenty of time in here, and probably more nights than I can count. Sometimes it’s easier to curl up on the couch in my office than deal with LA traffic and drive home.

Even when I was with Malcolm, I spent a lot of time here. We rarely went out, and he was often busy. Back then I thought it was with work, but now I know he was fucking his other boyfriends. The few months since the public breakup, I’ve been spending even more time here. It’s strange being in my apartment because he always came there when we were together. Looking back, there were so many signs I chose to overlook.

I look up to see Ana. She’s been with the Rockwell for years, and she’s incredibly nice and a very hard worker. I don’t know what I would do without her.

“Hey. How are you?” She leans against the doorjamb.

“Not bad. Just dealing with a few things before I leave for Seattle in the morning.”

“It’s getting late. A few of us are going out to dinner. You should come with us.”

“Oh.” I frown, not having expected that. It’s not as if Ana never said anything like that to me before, but it’s not often, and it always surprises. “I shouldn’t…” I say, though there’s no real reason why I shouldn’t. I just don’t. Plus, I figure they don’t really want to hang out with me. She’s being friendly, but I’m just awkward in these situations. Why ruin everyone’s night?

“You should. Come on. It’ll be fun. You work too hard.” She looks sheepish for a moment, pushing a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “You should get out more.”

The thing is, in my head, I know she doesn’t mean anything by that. Ana is kind, and she’s only trying to be kind to me, but it immediately makes me feel she’s asking because she pities me, because she knows I don’t have much of a life outside of work, and when I thought I did, it turned out I was being used to feed his ego.

“Shoot. That came out wrong. I just…you’re a good guy, Hayes. I like working with you. I hate what happened to you.”

I shift uncomfortably. The last thing I want is to talk about Malcolm, and I sure as shit don’t want to hang out with people who are all just sitting around taking pity on me because of what happened with Malcolm.

“I can’t. I have other plans,” I lie. There’s no doubt in my mind she knows I’m lying too.

“Okay. Have a good night.”

I nod and then look at my computer. I can feel her there for a moment before she walks away. The second she’s gone, I get up and close my office door so that anyone lingering in the building doesn’t know I’m still here.

I walk over to the window and look out at the city. It’s busy as always, a familiar smogginess to the air that honestly, I don’t notice most of the time. LA is home, and I’m sitting here staring out at the city below, trying to ignore the fact that I’m boring.

I’ve always been boring. That’s nothing new. I’ll probably always be boring, but it never bothered me until everything went down with Malcolm. He was able to take advantage of me because I am the way I am. I got so wrapped up in someone simply because he wanted to spend time with me. Because I made myself believe I was in love with the first guy who showed me attention, the first guy I thought really liked me.

That truth pisses me off, goddamn it.

I want to do something totally out of the ordinary for me.

I want to have fun, want to…I don’t know, just go out and have sex with the first hot guy I see—well, one who is willing to have sex with me, that is.

I’m twenty-six years old. I should be going out and having fun. I should have had sex with more than two people before that asshole. I definitely shouldn’t ever trust another guy again. Instead, I should focus on finding a way to live my best life and have all the no-strings-attached sex I can.

I head back over to my desk, full of a new resolve that’s honestly a little weird and confusing, but at least it makes me feel like I’m doing something to not be the same man Malcolm took advantage of.

I log in to the hookup app I downloaded right after Malcolm and I broke up, which is the last time I told myself I was going to do this…and then I search online for the perfect guy to have a fun-filled night with—something Malcolm would never expect of me.

Only every guy I talk to is annoying for one reason or another. Either that or they’re not interested in me.

I scour the app for an hour before I get discouraged, put my phone away, and get back to work.

*

LAX isn’t my favorite place to be, but considering I haven’t sprouted wings or learned to disappear from LA and reappear in Seattle, I don’t have much of a choice.

I’m sitting in my chair an hour before the flight is set to board. I don’t have it in me not to arrive at the airport much earlier than I technically have to be here. It’s too stressful. My laptop is on my lap, my fingers clicking away because if I’m going to be here, the least I need to do is get some work done, when suddenly I feel uncomfortable. Like I’m being watched.

When I tilt my head up, the guy across from me is looking straight at me. As soon as our gazes meet, he turns away.

Okay, well, that was strange, but it’s LA and people-watching is a thing, so I ignore it and get back to work.

The feeling doesn’t go away, though, and it’s hard to concentrate. It’s like I don’t fit in my own skin, which makes no sense, and when I peek up, this time less obvious, he’s looking at me again.

“Can I help you?” I ask, trying to ignore how I wish I could sink into the chair.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t…you’re him, right?” He smiles like he’s not randomly mentioning one of the most embarrassing moments of someone’s life to them. “You got Hayesed!” He chuckles, then holds his hand up like I would want to high-five him.

My blood runs cold, my whole body going stiff. No one is paying attention to us, but I feel like they are, like everyone is watching.

When I don’t lift my hand, he lowers his slowly. “Sorry.” He sinks back into his chair, and as pissed as I am at this random stranger, I’m pissed at myself too for not saying anything. For not telling him he’s a dick, and again I feel the fire in my belly that I had last night—not wanting to be this guy. Wanting to step out of my comfort zone and prove to myself that I’m not who Malcolm thought I was.