My girlfriend

Noah’s pov

"She gave you a what?"

Vanessa asks, her hazel eyes wide as she pauses in the middle of buttering a piece of sourdough. It’s the morning after my return from the annual sales conference, and as usual, Vanessa has drifted into my apartment to assemble her breakfast, a ritual that has slowly become her normal routine after wrapping up her night shifts.

I smile and reach out, grabbing the piece of toast that remains suspended in mid-air. As I take a munch of the warm bread, a wave of lingering disbelief washes over me, because deep down, I still can't entirely process the fact that the best thing to ever happen in my life actually took place in a hotel room.

"Classy Mara? The girl with her fake nose pointed upward, way out of your league, came to your room and gave you a blow job?" Vanessa demands, as she abandons the butter knife on the counter.

"Hey, say that louder for the neighbors, will you?" I hiss, leaning across the kitchen island and casting a nervous glance toward the thin drywall separating us from the hallway.

She dismisses my concern with a wave of her hand, completely unfazed as she reaches into the toaster to grab another slice for herself.

"There has got to be more to this story, Noah. I mean, you told me last week that she doesn't even look at you or acknowledge your existence, except to collect free breakfast.” She snorts. “You’ve been hopelessly pining after her for four months now, and suddenly this happens out of nowhere?" She gazes at me intently, her jaw working slowly as she munches on the crust. "Something is off here, and you know it."

I scoff, leaning my back against the counter and crossing my arms. "Why would something be off, Van? Can't a beautiful woman just realize I'm a decent guy and actually wants to be with me?"

She rolls her eyes so hard I am surprised they don't roll right out of her head.

"Mmm-hmm, whatever you say, Romeo, but I would be extremely careful if I were you," she warns, pointing a crumbs-covered finger straight at my chest. "I don't like her, Noah. I don’t like her vibe."

Vanessa lives next door and has been in the building before me. When I moved in, we immediately bonded over the months. She isn't conventionally drop-dead gorgeous, but possesses a raw, striking magnetism accented by her brassy, synthetic-tinted blonde extensions that give her hair far more volume than nature intended. Working as a VIP host in a chaotic downtown club has stripped her of any faith in human nature, leaving her guarded and deeply suspicious of everyone's motives.

"You don't like anyone who isn't paying for bottle service.”

"This is completely different," she insists, snapping her fingers in the air to emphasize her point. "Girls like Mara don't just drop their ice-queen routine overnight unless they have an angle. On the other hand…….good for you." She smacks my arm hard enough to leave a sting. "You finally did it. Honestly, I didn't even know you had the balls."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, rubbing my arm and frowning at her unprovoked attack.

"I mean, for a long time there, I thought you were gay," she says flatly, grabbing a glass from my cabinet and filling it with tap water without dropping eye contact.

"Why on earth would you think that?" I ask, completely taken aback by her absurd deduction.

"Because I practically threw myself at you when you first moved into the building, remember?"

"You did?" I stare at her, my mind frantically racing backward, trying to pinpoint a single moment that remotely resembled flirting. "When?"

She groans, throwing her head back toward the ceiling. "Men! You guys are so hopelessly clueless. I asked you to help me carry a twenty-pound box of cat litter into my apartment while wearing a crop top and no bra, Noah. No bra. You didn’t even look at my chest once.”

"I was trying to be a gentleman!” I exclaim.

Wow.

First Mara now Vanessa?

Two girls so totally out of my league.

Maybe I’m indeed……what do they call it?….chick magnet?

“I'm flattered, Van. Really—."

"Woah there, honey,” she raises a palm to cut me off as she gulps her water. “I was on this celibacy thing then, I was ready to jump anything, but I’m long over it. Besides, I figured you were playing for the other team, plus I saw you outside with that huge guy one time."

"That was my Uber driver!" I yell, exasperated by how wildly she has misconstrued my entire social life.

"Uh-huh, whatever you say, honey," she drawls, slinging her leather bag over her shoulder. "Well, big congrats on your shiny new girlfriend. I’m completely dead on my feet, so I’m off to bed."

"And I’m off to work," I say, glancing at the stove clock before my chest tightens in sudden panic. "Shit, I'm going to be late. Wait... uh, Van.” I pause a bit. “Mara and I haven't really talked since we got back from the conference yesterday. I mean, this means she is my girlfriend now, right?"

Vanessa pauses near the front door and turns around. "Did you ask her to be your girlfriend?"

"No, but—I mean, we—you can't just do something like that with just anybody, right?" I stammer out.

A wave of anxiety crashes over me as I replay the night in my head. She had come to my room—okay I invited her first—but I didn’t exactly invite her to my room, it was more of a bar invitation—okay I’m getting ahead of myself here. The point is the chemistry had felt so intensely real, and the….act made it seem impossible that it was just a fleeting gesture. In my mind, physical intimacy at that level is the bridge to emotional commitment, a sacred pact that automatically moves us from coworkers to something meaningful and lasting.

And I don’t think this because I’m a virgin.

Vanessa clicks her tongue, stepping back toward me. "Ohhh, honey," she murmurs, extending her hands to tenderly frame my cheeks, squeezing them until my lips pucker. "You are so ridiculously cute when you're this clueless. Later."

With a final, pitying pat to my shoulder, she slips out the front door.

“Thanks for the no help,” I call after her.

Minutes later, I rush out the door, heading to work. I stride through the glass doors of the building with my chin held high, greeting the receptionist and my colleagues with an unusually radiant, beaming smile that feels entirely foreign on a Monday morning. I walk toward Mara’s desk carrying a hot vanilla latte and her favorite blueberry muffin as usual, expecting to see her perfectly styled hair and gorgeous face, but her chair is empty.

That’s odd.

Considering she is always the first person in the department to arrive. I shrug and make my way to my own cubicle, setting the coffee down gently. A girlfriend….I freaking have a girlfriend, and against all odds, she happens to be the girl of my dreams.

In your face Cole.

Cole was one of my college buddies that taunted me throughout college about being a virgin. If only he could see me now.

"Noah?" a voice breaks through my blissful thoughts.

I turn around, expecting a greeting from a team member, but find a mid-level Human Resources representative standing behind me.

"HR needs to see you in her office," he says and turns away.

A knot of confusion forms in my stomach as I follow him down the corridor. I push open the door of the HR office, only to find my direct supervisor AKA my boss and the head of HR sitting across from each other.

Before I can even offer a greeting, the HR slides a bunch of paper across the table towards me and I pick them up.

Sexual harassment claims. Improper conduct in the workplace. All signed by Mara.

What the….My eyes widen as I skim the pages, registering crisp screenshots of text chains, and signing witness statements from coworkers asserting I had been stalking her for months. Even our time in the hotel was stated in the document, claiming that I forced her.

"This—this isn't what it looks like at all. This was completely mutual and consensual. I didn't harass anyone. Just ask her, please, she will tell you the truth. Let me just call her right now.”

"Mr. Cole," my boss interrupts. "Given the severity of the evidence presented here, I have no choice but to terminate your employment immediately."

"What?!" I yell. “No no no. You can’t do this. I did none of these things. My co-workers can vouch for me. Even Mara will. Someone must be playing a prank or something.”

But how will the person know what we did at the hotel?

I haven’t told anyone except Vanessa.

The door opens and I turn around as Mara walks in.