Chapter 01

" I 'm standing out like a boner at a pool party, Kate," I complain into the phone.

"Well, it's too late to go home and change, so get in there."

Anxiously standing at the foot of a sleek skyscraper, I look around at the somber-looking business men and women. Amongst all these very serious, very professional people, I feel like an awkward teenager again—lost, confused, and underdressed.

"Maybe I should see if I can find a nearby store to buy a nice sweater."

"Arriving late on your first day is even worse."

I look down at my clothes and cringe. "I'm not sure."

Even from here, I know she's rolling her eyes. "Which one are you wearing?" Kate asks with a sigh.

"The Hulk one. With the ‘Hulk smash!' on it."

"Jesus Christ, Andy!"

"I know," I say with a grimace. "I couldn't find the box with the nice clothes, and this is basically the standard programmer's uniform, so I thought it would be fine. But now that I'm seeing everyone in suits…"

"I'm sure you'll be okay, babe."

"What if they fire me before I even reach my desk?"

I take a deep breath and tell myself that won't happen. Kelex is the most open and inclusive company I've ever heard of, so they won't even bat an eye at my T-shirt.

"If they fire you, then you'll come back to Portland, and we'll be in the same city again. It's a win-win situation."

She's wrong. Going back home wouldn't make up for losing this job. This is everything, and I already know this is my professional peak. It's the perfect position, in the perfect company, in a perfect city. Well, maybe Seattle isn't the perfect city, but it's convenient. And it is the closest tech hub to home, even though I would have traveled the entire country for a position at Kelex.

My new employer aims to simplify the lives of people with disabilities through specialized apps, operating systems, and various software programs. Their goal is to allow everyone to experience the perks of technology equally, if not use it to improve their lifestyle. And that means everyone—people who are deaf or hard of hearing, people with low vision or blindness, wheelchair users, those who suffer from a debilitating medical condition, people diagnosed with neurodivergence… the list goes on. Kelex serves as many people as possible.

I hear someone talk to Kate on the other end of the line, and she answers something about a margin of error or something. Then, she refocuses on me. "Okay, I need to go back to work, or I'll get fired as well."

"What do you mean, ‘ as well ?!'"

"You know what I mean, stop being a whiny little bitch."

I should probably be offended, but this is exactly the kind of tough love I need right now. "You really think I'll be fine?" I question.

"Yes, I promise. Now, you need to take a deep breath, tell yourself you got this, and be the badass I know you are."

Because it sounds like the best thing I can do right now, I comply. I fill my lungs, exhale, and assert, "I got this."

"That's my girl! Get in there, or you'll show up underdressed and late."

"Alright. Thanks, babe."

"You owe me a pep talk."

"I'm still ahead on those, you know."

"Yeah, only three left, and we're even." There's a pause while someone talks to her again, and after a few seconds of this, she returns to me. "Okay, I really have to go, and so do you. So, get in there, babe, and kick asses and take names!"

I don't even have time to answer before she hangs up. A glimpse at my phone tells me I need to hurry if I don't want to be late. I pass nervous hands through my short, curly bob and get a move on. I let myself be guided by the crowd of lawyers, traders, and other suit-wearing people walking toward the entrance.

Nervous energy buzzes inside me as I pass the massive doors, but I don't let it slow me down. I walk to the wall where the companies in the building are listed. It doesn't take long to spot Kelex, which occupies two floors. Somehow, seeing it right there worsens my anxiety, tightening my throat with it.

When I reach the elevators, I rush to the one that's the closest to this floor. I'm not the only pragmatic person here, as many people soon join me in my wait for the doors to open.

The stainless steel panels part with an elegant ‘ding,' and everyone rushes into it. Since I'm on the front line, I'm unceremoniously pushed toward the few people already inside. I miraculously manage to press the button for my floor before being shoved further into the confined space.

The eager mob forces me toward someone standing in the corner, but I successfully stop before I bump into them. At least until an elbow shoves me in the back and I stumble into the stranger. My hand instinctively reaches up to secure my balance, flattening over the solid plane of a stomach—my only option. That's when I realize it's a man. A very fit man.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble as I remove my hand, quickly glimpsing up at him. He doesn't even bother looking down, but his face distracts me from that fact.

Holy shit.

He's hot.

Like, damn …

Before I can properly take in his features, other than the intense eyes, square jaw, dark hair, and stubble, I'm pushed into him again, probably by the same elbow.

God , that is one muscular chest.

"Will you stop shoving, please?" I frustratedly ask, twisting around the best I can. Then I mumble to myself, "People have no respect for personal space."

"They don't."

That came from the hot stranger against me. Of course, his voice is alluring as well. Low, a little husky, as though he just woke up. His eyes are on me this time, but they don't stay there for long, and he quickly looks ahead again. Finally, the doors close, and we rise to the upper floors, providing little distraction from the warm body I'm pressed against.

"I'm very sorry for being all over yours," I say with a wince. "Personal space, I mean."

With a barely perceptible shrug, he mumbles, "It's fine."

The elevator keeps halting and resuming its course. At this pace, it'll take ages to get to my floor. To make matters worse, the man against me makes me grow embarrassingly hot. Great, I'll arrive late, underdressed, and sweaty…

Since he isn't paying attention to me, I peer up at him discreetly. Like my abuela always says, the least we can do when God provides eye candy is appreciate it. He seems to be in his early to mid-thirties, tall and imposing, which is like a magnet for shorter women like me. I never really got why. Maybe some deeply-rooted need from when men had to fend off wild animals.

When I look down again, my mind is out of the gutter enough to notice his gray T-shirt, which comforts me about my outfit. Not everyone who works here wears suits. Although it isn't a tight fit, I can guess at the broadness of his chest underneath and the defined pecs.

As a sapiosexual with a mild sex drive, I'm never attracted to men at first sight. So I don't understand why my stomach flutters every time I peek at the stranger. Maybe it's the sharpness of his eyes. He looks smart, not just handsome. There's a pair of reading glasses tucked into his shirt collar, and I crave to see him with those on. They must make him look like a nerdy genius.

Something jolts between us, right around his crotch area, and I freeze, my eyes going huge.

Oh my …

"Excuse me," he says before reaching for his pocket, his hand gliding over the front of my T-shirt. Good thing I'm wearing a padded bra because the girls are having a strong reaction to the platonic graze.

He takes his phone out, and I realize it buzzed. That's what happened—not an impromptu boner over me. Andy, you cretin. You look like an underdressed imp.

Because of the lack of space, he has no choice but to settle it between us. He unlocks the screen to check the text he received and—

Holy fuck.

It's a nude.

The man instantly locks the screen again, but it's too late; I saw the steamy picture he received. The youthful platinum-blonde goddess in it was in a very suggestive pose, showing off her perfect breasts and toned stomach. I'd probably be more into sending out nudes if I had such amazing tits instead of, as per an ex's words, "mosquito bites."

Since the situation is rather comical, a laugh bubbles in my chest, but I do everything I can to suppress it.

What a way to begin my first day of work.

I'm slowly accepting my terrible fate—being pressed against a dashing guy for the rest of eternity—when the space clears a little. We aren't intimately flushed together now. Upon noticing the next stop is mine, I look up one last time to give the man an apologetic smile. His eyes lower to mine, and then he glances at my T-shirt.

His face remains remarkably neutral, and I can't tell if it's a good or bad sign.

Because humor is my best defense against embarrassment, the next thing my mouth spews is, "As fun as that was, let's never do it again."

It takes everything in me not to cringe at my own words. To my relief, a semblance of a smile stretches the man's lips, and… Fuck, he truly is devastatingly handsome.

"Let's not," he answers, his baritone voice doing something primal to my insides.

The doors finally open for me, and before I can melt into a puddle at his feet, I wiggle my way out of this tedious hell. Once out, I take a deep breath, my lungs filling with fresh air again. Using the stairs next time comes to mind, but I'm too out of shape for that.

The ass those stairs would give me, though.

After a quick look at my surroundings, I silently rejoice when I notice people wearing casual clothes. Behind the reception desk is a gorgeous blonde typing on a laptop. She looks intimidating, especially with her septum piercing and immaculate makeup. The closer I get to her, the more I feel like an Oompa-Loompa showing up for duty.

I stand there, smiling awkwardly, but she doesn't notice me. So, I clear my throat to make my presence known. She immediately lifts her eyes, and her gaze takes me in up and down as one of her perfectly drawn eyebrows rises slightly.

"Welcome to Kelex. How may I help you?"

"Hi," I say, my voice a little shaky. "I start today, and I'm wondering if you could give me some directions."

"Yes, of course. What's your name, and what department will you work in?"

"I'm, uh, Andrea. Andrea Walker. And I'm with the development team."

The woman frowns and looks up from her screen. "You're Andy Walker." I nod, surprised my name means something to her. "We weren't expecting… We thought you were a… man."

I do my best to look innocent, batting my eyes at the receptionist when I, in fact, did my best to keep the lines blurred. Anything to make sure I'd get my dream job. The receptionist apparently realizes she is staring and shakes her head to snap out of it .

"Sorry, you just really surprised me there. The nerds from dev have been talking about you a lot. I doubt they expect you to be a woman. And with this," she explains with a soft laugh, pointing at my shirt, "they will all be at your feet by the end of the day."

I smile humbly, definitely reassured now. We geeks are pretty serious about our superheroes.

"You'll probably need to drop by HR first," she explains. "They're right upstairs, fifth door on the left."

Before I can panic about getting into an elevator again, I notice a door that must lead to a staircase. "I'll do that, thank you!"

"No problem. Come back when you're done, and I'll take you to the Troll's Lair."

As I journey toward the upper floor, my mind drifts back to the attractive man in the elevator. My front is still warm, as if the ghost of his presence lingers on me. Unless he's only visiting, we might meet again on future elevator rides. One more reason to look forward to coming to work.

The HR woman is lovely, and because she's had my legal name for a few days, she isn't surprised that I'm a woman, and I don't have to justify myself. I never lied about my actual name, but I did sign off as "Andy" everywhere since I almost exclusively go by that.

Within a few minutes, I've signed everything, so she hands me my version of each document and a copy of the company's rules and regulations.

I'm quick to return downstairs with everything sorted, and this time, the blonde at reception welcomes me back with a smile. "All good?" she asks.

I can't shake the grin from my face. "Yes, it's official. I'm a full-stack developer here."

"Congratulations! I'll introduce you to the nerds." She stands up and is much taller than I expected. She extends her hand, a kind smile on her lips. "I'm Dakota, by the way. I work with the graphic design team. Our receptionist called in sick this morning, and I drew the short straw. Come, the Troll's Lair awaits." With a gesture, she invites me to follow her.

Contrary to upstairs where it's all corridors and closed offices, most of this floor is open, with only a handful of enclosed workspaces. The desks are huge, and everyone has plenty of room to move around. The whole place is very bright, with vivid hues here and there.

We get to a closed part of the floor and stop before a glass door. I smile at the various notes taped on it. Don't tap the glass, it scares the geeks , one reads. Please, don't feed the trolls. They are on a special diet , and under, someone added with a ballpoint pen, of Cheetos and Red Bull . Then, Do not trespass during Counter-Strike sessions. Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again—then Steven will T-bag them . That last one makes me chuckle, and I already know I'll like these guys.

"Are you ready?" Dakota asks, gripping the handle. I nod, telling myself I will do just fine.

With great energy, she pushes the door open. "Listen up, you animals!" she announces as we enter. The five men sitting inside lift their heads from their computers, glancing in our direction. "This is Andrea Walker, a.k.a. ‘the script whisperer,' as you brainiacs have been calling her for the past three weeks." The nickname makes me grin with pride.

Several jaws drop as they process that information. It seems that hiding the fact that I have boobs and a vagina was more of a scam than I thought.

"You virgins might not be familiar with this, but yes, Andy is a female specimen of our kind," Dakota explains with sarcasm.

The first one to get over that little gender-bender trick stands up from his chair. In a boyish kind of way, he's charming. Slender and tall, he's wearing a plaid shirt and seems to be in his late twenties, with ginger hair, light brown eyes, and freckles dusting his pale skin.

He comes to me with a few long strides and extends his hand. "Welcome to Kelex, Andy. We're thrilled to have you here with us."

I shake his hand, returning his genuine smile. "Thank you. I'm delighted to be here."

"I'll let the boss know you've arrived," he offers, returning to his desk and quickly typing something.

The next one who speaks, the only one who looks over forty, is a hefty man with an impressive beard, brown hair tied in a ponytail, and thick-rimmed glasses. "Damn, I made a bet that you'd have a beard."

"I have one, but you'll never see it," I joke.

The instant the words leave my lips, I regret them and freeze from head to toe. When heat creeps up my face, I know I'm crimson. I need to be gagged. Right fucking now.

They all stare at me, as shocked as I am, and no one speaks for what seems to be minutes but is probably five seconds. Next to me, Dakota does her best to hold back her laughter.

A blond guy raises his hands to ask his colleagues a question in sign language—which I'm familiar with. "I didn't get that. What did she say? "

"She told him he'd never see her ‘beard,'" someone signs back.

I've never wished for the ground to open up and swallow me as hard as I do at this moment. Was my awful joke really worth repeating?

Utterly shocked, the guy who asked stares at me. Dakota can't hold back anymore, and she explodes in a fit of laughter. That seems to trigger the others, and soon enough, I'm waiting for them to calm down.

When she regains control of her breathing, Dakota carefully wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. "Yeah, you'll do great. They constantly make dick jokes around each other, so it's about time someone introduced them to vagina ones."

"We weren't prepared," the ginger says. "Consider us warned from now on." The others nod, confirming his statement.

The glass door opens, distracting the room from the shitshow that is me. Everyone's focus shifts to the newcomer, so I also turn around. When I see the man standing in the doorway, my breath catches in my throat.

Holy Mother of God…

So, he works here after all.