Page 22

LUKE

DECEMBER

The last square is aligned, the numbers are triple-checked, and I’ve managed to get rid of every single spelling error.

At long last, I’m ready to send the last deck to Ajay.

He’ll probably return it with thirty-seven revisions stemming from organizational changes that nobody told me about, but this is my best attempt.

Maybe I should start learning—I know there’s an app for that.

I get through most of the first period before my laptop pings with a message from Ajay, and I mute the game before returning to my office to give him a call. He picks up, we exchange the usual corporate greetings, and then we get down to business.

“Okay Luke,” Ajay says. “The deck looks great, but?—”

Of course there’s a but.

“—we received instructions this morning that going forward, we will be reporting Australian results under the Europe category, not Asia-Pacific.”

My mouth moves to speak before I can stop myself, which hasn’t happened to me since starting this job. “Has anyone at this company even looked at a map? Why the—” I cut myself off and regroup momentarily. “Why on earth are we including Australian results in Europe? What are we, Eurovision?”

“I totally get it, and I had the exact same reaction when I found out.”

“Right.”

“I’ll forward you the email now so we can make the revisions.”

My inbox refreshes and I open the email that would have been a lot more useful if I had received it myself in the first place. I scan it, fixating on one tiny, almost illegible line.

As of January of the next fiscal year, internal results from Australia and New Zealand will be reported under the Europe group due to corporate restructuring.

No amount of restructuring, short of shifting the layouts of entire continents, could ever make this change appear logical. At least not to me.

“Okay, the email says that the change only applies next year. Can we just make a note on the slides and call it a day?”

Ajay squints at the screen, and I get a close-up view of his hair brushing against the camera.

“You’re right,” he says. “Your proposal checks out. If anyone has an issue with it, I can tell them to communicate any future nonsensical changes further in advance.”

“Thanks, that’s a relief. I’ll make the changes now.”

“Oh, Luke, I remembered something else.”

“Yes?”

Ajay’s face softens. “The company is having a holiday party at our Toronto office tomorrow. Everyone working in the city is invited.”

“Tomorrow?”

Sighing, Ajay takes his glasses off. “Yes, tomorrow. I was told about it three minutes before our call, and the inside scoop is that they only received approval for it this morning.”

“Huh. Okay. I suppose I can make it.”

“I’d definitely recommend it. Unfortunately, I can’t go, but it’ll be a good way for you to get face time with higher-ups.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome. These things always have an insane open bar so take advantage of that. Make sure you carb load beforehand.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I reply, hiding my surprise at being told to carb load for a work event by my manager .

Once we sign off, I text Emily.

There’s apparently an office party in the Toronto office tomorrow. Are you going?

Emily

Where did you hear about this

Ajay just told me

Hold up he sent me an email

Yeah I’m down to go

They better have unlimited drink tickets

Sounds good, feel free to drop stuff off at my place if you want

Ooh

Lmk if you want me to prepare the guest room too (I can put a camp bed in my office). Nbd

Omg that would be amazing tysm

Emily came back to Ontario but backed out of moving to Toronto itself, choosing to live at home with her parents in Hamilton.

Rent here is insane, and I don’t blame her for wanting to save a bit.

That kind of sucks in the whole “find some friends in Toronto” department, though, but I manage on my own.

It’s freezing, so it’s not like people leave their houses much, anyway.

After work the next day, I get a haircut, shower, and then stand naked in front of my closet while figuring out what to wear.

My work outfits so far have been a golf shirt or a sweater on top and old shorts on the bottom, and that’s about to change tonight.

The dress code is business semi-formal, so I dig my suit and a white shirt out from the depths of my closet and give everything a once-over with my steamer.

Slipping into my shirt, then the suit, I shuffle around, noticing the tightness under my arms. I definitely bulked up a little since getting the suit tailored for graduation in April, but it isn’t half-bad.

Once I’m satisfied that I’m presentable, I snap a quick selfie in the hallway mirror and send it off to the guys because Stefano specifically requested a fit check.

I also send it to Erik because why not? We keep our main text thread PG, with our salacious pictures and videos going in a hidden chat. He texts me back a few moments later.

Erik Norberg

Nice outfit

(VOICE MEMO RECEIVED)

My dick stirs. It’s a pavlovian response at this point whenever I get one of these.

I hover my thumb over the play button, my breath hitching. Erik has a tendency to accidentally send the hottest stuff at the worst times.

Right before a meeting.

When I’m working out.

When I’m on a run.

Right when I’m getting into bed and his husky morning voice talks some shit about how good my mouth feels around his cock.

He isn’t just good at it now—Erik knows exactly how to make me disintegrate with nothing more than some well-timed cocky teasing.

Did I ask him for that? Yes. Yes, I did. Specifically.

And I show him just how much it gets to me through crystal clear 4K video evidence.

I swear, if he drops another line about pinning my arms down, I’ll?—

Damnit. There’s a time and a place, and I’m not about to get fully bricked up in dress pants right before a work event.

I retreat from the sexy play button.

Saving that one for later

Suit yourself ;)

Haha get it, bc you’re wearing a suit?

Lmfao I’m dead

That’s when the group chat lights up, distracting me.

Stefano

holy fuck buddy did you turn me gay? bc im as hard as that fit rn

Carl

Mark

got me feral in public smh

Adrian

I’m giving a presentation at work and the entire office can see my notifications

My boss thinks you guys are weird

I scoff. Leave it to my straight friends to act gayer than me. At least I know I’m presentable.

Emily texts me, telling me that she’s pulling up, I get a buzzer call, and then she steps into my apartment with an overnight bag in tow.

“Ugh, it is brutal out there,” she says, shrugging her jacket off. “But I need a drink. Let’s roll out.”

Grabbing my employee badge and a jacket, I slip my shoes on, lock up, and we walk the two minutes to Worldwide Bank’s Toronto office.

The company’s event hall is on the 55th floor, and I’m expecting the holiday party will be well underway, since we’re arriving about half an hour after the start time. I have some trouble with the entry gate, so Emily goes ahead of me, but she stops dead in her tracks.

“Why the hell are the police here?” she hisses, tiptoeing back to me.

“What?” I stick my head around the corner, and sure enough, the police are leading three people in suits out of the event hall. We stand frozen as the group passes us and heads into the elevator we just got out of.

“That’s so weird,” Emily says, and we stay motionless for a few seconds before investigating.

The hall is completely empty except for Naziha, the regional Executive Assistant, who gives us a tired wave.

“Did we come at a bad time?” Emily asks, and despite how bizarre this night is shaping up, I have to stifle a laugh.

Naziha sighs. “Yes and no. Long story short, the executives tried to out-drink some of the winter interns.”

My mouth hangs agape, a surprised noise sticking in my throat.

“Yeah. Someone, not naming any names, started a fight amongst leadership, and the police were called.”

“Damn, that’s wild,” Emily deadpans. “So how did we show up at a good time?”

Naziha huffs. “Well, the police are sending a team to investigate, and they told me to stay here. I need two volunteers to deal with the copious amounts of alcohol that the executives ordered. We don’t have a liquor license, and I sure as hell am not going to be on the hook for a fine.”

“So you want us to get rid of evidence?” I ask, smiling.

“Exactly. It’s unopened expensive alcohol, so you can consider it your holiday bonus since the company is skimping on those this year.”

Motioning for us to follow her, Naziha leads us to a cart full of boxes before rushing over to the windows to close the blinds.

“Kinda sucks that you came all this way for the party to be shut down,” I say to Emily, pushing the cart to the elevator lobby.

“Oh, I don’t care. All this free alcohol makes up for the train fare.”

The elevator arrives, we squeeze in, and then wheel the rickety cart across the street back to my apartment. I’ll message Naziha on Monday and see if she wants the cart back, but its rightful owners might be in prison, so that remains to be seen.

“Do you want to go out somewhere since you made the trip here?” I ask, and Emily laughs.

“It’s minus two outside and I have the option of work clothes and PJs. I’d much rather take a hot shower and make a dent in our free alcohol.”

“Couldn’t have put it better,” I say. “There’s a towel and stuff in the hallway bathroom.”

We go our separate ways, and once I’m done showering, I rifle around in one of the boxes and retrieve a random bottle.

It’s Champagne. From France. And there are two whole boxes of it. This sure beats a half-percent holiday bonus. Emily comes out of the hallway bathroom and I pour her a glass, which she happily accepts. We make it through the bottle, and Emily snickers after she finishes her glass.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, filling a glass of water. “Yeah, it’s Champagne, but it isn’t that weird.”

“It’s not the drink, Luke, it’s your clothes. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say anything, but you look like a total fuckboy.” She fails to contain herself and has to lean against my dining table for stability.

I scoff in disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re wearing a hockey t-shirt and flannel sleep pants.”

“Yeah, and?”

Emily gestures at me. “That’s the fuckboy uniform! What, do you text guys at two in the morning asking what they’re up to?”

Yeah, I text Erik at 2 a.m. because of the time difference.

Noticing my silence, Emily straightens up. “Sorry. Is that a touchy subject? I probably shouldn’t have called you a fuckboy. You’re actually nice.”

I shake my head. “Nah, you’re good. Those days are long gone.”

She squints at me. “On another note, is your favorite hockey team Toronto’s farm team?”

“No?”

It’s a Swedish team called Alvik HK, but nobody has to know that.

“But you like them enough to shell out for merch?”

And then it clicks. Jesus fuck. I’m wearing one of Erik’s old hockey shirts. At some point, I started wearing them to sleep, and now I don’t even think twice about slipping one on.

I stand still, trying to figure out what to say.

“Is that a touchy subject?” she asks, straightening up.

“No, not at all,” I say. “I was seeing one of their players a while back, but he signed with a team in Sweden and moved over there.”

“Huh. You still like him, don’t you?”

I let out a dry huff and flick my eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, come on.”

“What?” Emily puts her hands up. “You’re wearing the guy’s shirt and you got all grumpy when you said that he left. Am I wrong?”

“No, you aren’t. I know that’s pathetic as hell, so don’t start.”

“It isn’t pathetic,” she says. “That’s actually so sweet.”

“Is it? Really?”

“Oh yeah.” She clasps her hands together. “There has to be a reason why you’re still into him.”

“It’s because he’s hot,” I say, deciding to avoid the full truth. She doesn’t need to know how far gone I am for Erik. “I light up like a Canada Day bonfire whenever I see him.”

Emily cackles, and I freeze. She’s my coworker , which means this conversation is borderline inappropriate, but hey, worse things have been done in the office by people who aren’t me.

“Wow, Luke, what does the guy look like?”

I zoom into a selfie that Erik and I took at the arcade bar and show her. It’s the same photo I always go back to.

“Holy shit. I do not blame you for still being into him. He’s a snack with a capital S and three Ks.” Emily scrutinizes the phone for a bit longer. “Wait. Is this…” she zooms out. “It’s a selfie of you two! You guys are so cute!”

My ears burn. “Again, he lives in Sweden.”

“Have you thought about visiting him?”

Placing my glass of water down on the counter, I cross my arms and avoid Emily’s questioning gaze. “Honestly, no, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird?” I stop there, but Emily motions for me to continue. “He left, and I don’t want to be all awkward and ask if I can fly across the world to see him. Besides, I’m pretty sure visiting would only make my feelings grow.”

Emily takes a sip of her wine, thinking. “Yeah, one week wouldn’t be enough. So when are you moving to Sweden?”

I give her a blank stare. “Moving? Why the hell would I do that?” My tone makes it sound like moving anywhere is a ludicrous idea, but I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t considering it. Still, I was thinking of going somewhere warm .

Emily tilts her head. “I’m mostly kidding, but your guy is there, and our company has an office in Sweden.”

I bark out a dry laugh and point at her. “My guy? Do not feed into my delusions. We’re?—”

—sexting until one of us moves on, which hasn’t happened yet. And it’s obvious that we both still like each other.

“—friends. Nothing more.”

Emily puts her hands up. “Okay, okay, all I’m saying is that we get twenty days of vacation every year. You should think about using some of them to visit that guy.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

To be fair, I could use some time off. It’s been a while.

Maybe Emily has a point, but I’m not going to be weird and invite myself. I’ll wait for Erik to bring it up, if he ever does.