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“Honestly? It’s… a lot. I mean, everyone’s really nice, but my brain feels like it’s melting.”
He smiles again – a sweet, amused smile that makes me want to say ridiculously embarrassing things just to earn it again.
“That sounds about right. First week is always chaos. Too many names, too many acronyms, and never enough caffeine.”
“Exactly!” I say, a spark of relief flooding my system. “I keep thinking everyone is speaking another language and I’m just nodding along like I understand.”
He laughs. “You’re doing fine. You’ve already impressed Steve. He said the ideas you presented in your interview were ‘refreshing’.
I blink. “Really?”
Marcus nods, lifting his mug back up. “You have good instincts. Don’t let the overwhelm trick you into thinking you don’t.”
My stomach tightens.
“If you ever need anything,” he adds, “just shout. You know where I am – or if I’m not at my desk, just drop me an e-mail.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I might take you up on that.”
He smiles and walks out with his coffee, leaving me standing there holding my empty mug, wondering if he has any idea what he’s just done to my insides.
Chapter 3
February 2023
I’ve spent my first few weeks carefully orbiting around Marcus like a satellite that didn’t want to crash into the sun.
Even though I work on the fourth floor, and he on the fifth, I still see him all the time. He smiles when he passes me in the hallway, he nods when I speak up during meetings. The other day, I caught him glancing in my direction during a brainstorming session, and I nearly dropped my pen.
It’s fine. Totally fine. Normal workplace crush stuff.
It’s a miserable Wednesday morning, with rain lashing against the windows and the dark sky outside casting a grey gloom over the entire office. My stomach is rumbling with fierce persistence, the kale-banana smoothie I downed at 7am just not cutting it today. I glance at the clock – it’s only 11:15, but hunger is making concentration difficult, and with Carter working from home today, our little corner feels quieter than usual.
“Feel like taking an early lunch?” I say across the desk to Angela.
“God, yes,” she says, leaning back in her chair and stretching. “If I stare at this fucking spreadsheet any longer, I’ll start seeing numbers in my sleep.”
I lock my screen and we head down the corridor to the staff room slash kitchen, which is thankfully empty.
“Hey, so, random question,” I say, as we sit down at one of the tables with our salad bowls in front of us.
“Ask away,” Angela says.
“Don’t take this to mean anything, because it doesn’t, but what’s Carter’s deal?”
She raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… like, when I first started, hedefinitelychecked me out by the lift. But then the next day, he called my outfit ‘fierce,’ and last week, he was going on aboutHeartstopper.But then at Mercury on Friday? His mouth was practically glued to that blonde girl, and I’m pretty sure they went home together.”
Angela bursts into a snort-laugh, nearly choking on a slice of cucumber.
“That’s just Carter. He’s sort of… fluid, I guess? Bi? Pan? Honestly, I don’t even thinkheknows. He says labels are overrated. But trust me babe, I really wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
“No, no way, not at all!” I exclaim. “Like I said, don’t take my question to mean anything. No, I was just confused. Like, one minute he’s talking fashion like he’s auditioning for Rupaul’s Drag Race, and then the next, he’s got his tongue down some girl’s throat.”
Angela shrugs, laughing.
“He grew up with a single mum and three sisters. He’s fluent in girl talk. He can talk skincare and fashion for days, but he’ll also be the first to flirt with anything that moves if the vibe is right.”