CHAPTER THREE:I KISSED MY BOSS

Evan’s POV;

“I’m not wearing this.”

I stood in the middle of a department store’s changing room, staring at my reflection. 

I looked like I was auditioning to be the nerd in a weird high school musical, the collar was too stiff, the tie was choking the life out of my soul.

“Yes, you are,” Hailey called from the other side of the curtain. “You look hot. Like someone who knows how to calculate taxes but breaks hearts on the side.”

I groaned. “I look like I’m going to a funeral for my personality.”

She flung the curtain open with zero hesitation, boundaries didn’t exist with Hailey Wang. 

She studied me, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a giant iced matcha. “Okay, we’ll lose the tie. But the blazer stays. You want to look like a competent young professional, not a bus boy who accidentally wandered into a board meeting.”

I rolled my eyes as she continued.

“It’s all about the balance of these things, Evan”

It has been a good week. A weird week, sure… one that included a makeout session in an airplane bathroom with a stranger who may or may not have ruined kissing for me forever (in a good way) but still a good week.

I've been home for five days now. 

My parents are thrilled, though their version of “thrilled” involved a lot of thinly-veiled comments about job stability and my diet. It always started like this;

“Are you sure you’re eating enough protein, Evan?”

“ Yes, Mom.”

“What kind of job—.”

“Mom, I already explained everything to you at least sixty times.”

We’d had family dinners, movie nights where my dad fell asleep ten minutes in, and one extremely awkward conversation where my mom asked if I was sexually active.

I almost choked on my lasagna.

How’s that for a traumatic experience and an emotional spiral.

Between the family bonding and Hailey aggressively bullying me into buying work-appropriate slacks, it was a surprisingly comforting week. 

Normal but grounding. 

Almost enough to forget the airport stranger with the perfect jawline and hands I still dreamed about.

Almost.

“Are you nervous?” Hailey asked, tossing me a button-down from the rack as we stood in line at checkout.

“Terrified,” I said, truthfully. “But also weirdly excited. Like the kind of excited where I could either eat a chocolate cake or shit my pants.”

“You’re gonna crush it,” she said. “Just don’t trip over your own feet. Or kiss your boss.”

I gave her a hard stare. “Why would you even say that?”

She shrugged. “Because you’re you. Trouble follows you around like a lost puppy.”

Well don’t jinx me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Everett & Rowe building was the kind of skyscraper that made you stand up straighter as you approached.

Glass panels, revolving doors, lobbies that smelled like productivity and expensive hand cream.

I stood in front of the mirror inside the elevator, smoothing down my blonde curls and began my mantra for the day.

“Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird,”  it’s effective sometimes.

The audit department was on the fourth floor. Sleek gray carpet, glass walls, cubicles that were more open than I expected which meant everyone could hear everyone else’s conversations. 

No pressure.

By the time I arrived at the fourth floor, I’d already sweat through the first layer of my deodorant.

“Hey,” someone called.

I turned and found a guy leaning against a desk, tie loosened, soft smile.

Early twenties, black-rimmed glasses, he had kind eyes, a mop of dark hair, and the kind of face that made you trust him with your passwords but an energy that screamed friendly burnout.

“Dennis Creek,” he said, holding out a hand. “You must be the new guy.”

“Evan Johnson.” I shook his hand while adjusting my bag strap, relieved by the casual vibe. “First day. Please be gentle.”

He laughed. “I’m supposed to show you around. I started like, a month ago, so I’m basically a veteran.”

He walked me around the floor, pointing out important things. The coffee machine in the break room was better than the one next to the photocopying machine, Manger’s office (avoid unless necessary), and the filing system (don’t touch without permission from Miss Jean, she’ll eat you alive).

Seems easy enough.

“Okay, this one’s you.” Dennis said, patting a cubicle wall as we passed it.

My little cube. Four neutral-toned walls, a decent desk, dual monitors, and a stack of forms I probably shouldn’t touch without supervision. 

My name was already on a sticky note on the desk phone. I nearly teared up.

“Is it weird that I’m emotional about having my own little cube and a spinning chair?” I asked.

“Not at all,” Dennis said. “It’s the little things. This is mine” he pointed to the cube directly next to mine.

“Also,” Dennis added, “you’re technically here to help with my workload. I’ve been drowning.”

“Happy to help. I’m a spreadsheet nerd. This is my jam.”

“If you ever need anything, just pop your head over the wall like a friendly groundhog.”

I dropped my bag and rolled the chair back and forth for a second. “God, I missed office furniture.”

Dennis chuckled. “Okay, come on. Let’s start easy. I’m gonna have you help me close out a couple petty cash logs. It’s boring as hell, but it’s a good warm up.”

I nodded, relieved. “Petty cash? I was born for petty.”

Dennis grinned. “God, I hope you mean that.”

We spent the next half hour buried in spreadsheets and expense reports. 

My fingers flew over the keyboard as I reconciled totals and made small talk with Dennis about how long he’d been working here, he even filled me in on how the vending machine on this floor was already a source of workplace drama.

Everything felt good.

 Like I belonged.

And then a voice rang out from across the room.

“Team, conference room now. We’re meeting the new department manager.”

Dennis groaned as he stood. “Oh right. The boss. Word is he transferred in from Chicago. Total hard ass. Brilliant, though.”

I blinked. “Oh. I forgot we were getting one.”

Dennis chuckled and began to walk while I followed behind him.

A hard ass?

Great. Just what I needed.

We filed into the sleek glass-walled conference room. I took a seat at the far end, trying to look engaged and not like a total mess.

The senior associate, Marcus, cleared his throat. “Everyone, meet our new department manager, Mr. Blake Thatcher.”

I turned.

And the world tilted sideways.

There he was.

The stranger from the airport.

The man I kissed.

Twice.

In two bathrooms.

On two different levels of air travel.

That was my boss? 

Technically my boss’s boss.

I think I’m about to have a panic attack.

Blake. Freaking. Thatcher.

He walked in like a Greek god in business casual, hazel eyes scanning the room with cold authority. He didn’t react when he saw me. 

His eyes didn’t even twitch.

My stomach dropped through the floor.

He opened a leather-bound notebook, nodded at the room, and said, “Let’s keep this short. I’m excited to work with you all. I value efficiency and integrity. Let’s get to it.”

No sign of recognition.

No heat.

No anything.

I felt my mouth go dry.

I kissed my boss.

Twice.

And now I work for him.

Hailey definitely jinxed me.

Jesus Christ.

Welcome to your first day, Evan.

You’re completely, hopelessly screwed.