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Chapter Twenty-Five

Andrew

“I think you and I need a little chat, Drew,” Adam says as I walk into the office.

My stomach rolls, but one glance at the superior look stamped on his face, and I know Adam hasn’t worked out my real identity yet.

“What about?” I ask politely.

“I just had a quick look at the quarterly system optimization report, and while it’s innovative, I think you’ve violated the fundamental principle of NovaCore’s design to prioritize reducing redundancies over speed.” His tone is one I imagine you’d use if you were trying to teach advanced calculus to a houseplant.

I fight to keep my expression neutral.

“Actually, I think the NovaCore system is designed so that speed and redundancy work in harmony, not opposition,” I say.

“Maybe you should just trust Drew on this one,” Xander chortles from his workstation.

Adam puffs up in indignation. “I fancy I’m slightly more qualified about NovaCore’s system than Drew is.”

Yep. He definitely hasn’t worked out my real identity.

Xander looks like he might explode into a confetti of suppressed comments. I give him a warning glance.

“You’re right. You’re more qualified. I’ll make sure I keep that in mind in the future,” I say quickly to Adam.

I settle into my desk and hook my laptop up to the docking station. Adam looks mildly appeased, Xander amused, and me?

My overwhelming emotion this morning is guilt.

I’m drowning in it.

I told Justin I had an early start so I had an excuse not to travel to work with him. I need space from him to process everything.

My mind keeps circling back to yesterday. To Justin’s lips against mine, his hands on my skin, the way he trusted me enough to share his deepest secrets. The way he’d let himself be completely vulnerable with me.

I can’t handle it. The guilt is consuming me.

My fingers hover over my keyboard as I try to focus on the morning’s help desk tickets. Someone in Marketing needs help recovering a deleted presentation. Accounting’s printer is still making sounds that would put a heavy metal concert to shame. Basic problems with simple solutions.

If only people were that straightforward.

People are not like binary code. They are not simply zeros or ones. Good or evil. They’re complex, filled with contradictions and layers that can’t be reduced to simple either-or statements.

Like Justin.

Why didn’t I realize that other things were going on in Justin’s life in high school? Why didn’t I question what turned the elementary-aged kid who helped me rescue my hamster into a homophobic bully in high school? I’d been so caught up in my own issues that I hadn’t thought to look deeper.

The memory of Justin telling me about his stepfather smashing the snow globes, about living in constant fear of not being “man enough,” haunts me. It doesn’t excuse Justin’s behavior, but it…explains it.

I never thought I’d ever want to go back to high school. But right now, I have a physical ache to find the Justin from high school, pull him into my arms, and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Which is absolutely ridiculous. If I’d done that in high school, Justin would have probably thumped me, and I would have been targeted even more mercilessly than I already was.

I head to the morning tea room, hoping caffeine might help clear my head. Instead, I find Justin there, and my heart does its frenzied trapeze act at the sight of him.

“Hey.” His smile is warm and intimate.

“Hey,” I say. I try to summon a smile, but it dies halfway to my face.

Justin’s forehead creases with concern. He steps toward me, then seems to remember we’re in a public space and stops himself. The aborted movement makes my chest ache.

I can’t tell him now. I know that.

How can I possibly explain that everything between us started as revenge? That I deliberately orchestrated our meetings, our friendship, all of it born from a desire to hurt him?

I can’t tell him the first guy he ever had sex with only got to know him because he wanted to get revenge on him, that the first person he ever confided in about his stepfather’s abuse was someone with ulterior motives.

My hands shake as I attempt to make coffee. The machine gurgles ominously, probably sensing my distress.

“Are you okay?” Justin asks softly. He’s moved closer, and I can smell his cologne.

“Just tired,” I say. Another lie to add to the growing pile between us.

“Listen, I was thinking…” Justin lowers his voice. “Maybe we could grab lunch together?”

The hope in his voice slices through me. I stare at my coffee, watching the steam spiral up like all my carefully constructed plans disappearing into thin air.

“I can’t,” I say. “I’ve got…meetings.”

It’s the coward’s way out, but maybe that’s what I need to be right now. A coward. Because the alternative, watching Justin’s face change when he learns the truth, is unthinkable.

I need to leave. Not just this conversation but DTL Enterprises. London. Everything.

I could fabricate a job offer. Something too good to pass up. A clean break before Justin discovers who I really am. Before I can hurt him.

The thought of escape buoys my spirit for a second.

But then there’s Xander.

My stomach churns. If I leave abruptly, will Xander start asking questions? All it would take is one loose comment about Andrew Yates working incognito at DTL Enterprises, and everything unravels.

I could buy another company. Create a position for Xander that would keep him too busy to wonder about me. It would take time though. Time to set up shell companies, arrange the paperwork, make it look legitimate…

“Drew?” Justin’s voice pulls me back to the present. “You sure you’re okay?”

No, I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay that okay isn’t even visible with a telescope.

But I manage what I hope passes for a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…processing everything.”

I grab my cup and flee like the coward I apparently am.

I make it back to my desk just as Xander launches into an enthusiastic monologue about proper cable management for our invisible audience.

I’ve never felt more like a fraud in my life.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of IT tickets. By five o’clock, my guilt has evolved into something so large it’s physically weighing me down.

My phone beeps with a message.

Do you want to come over for dinner? I’m making chili.

My fingers hover over my phone. The thought of Justin in his kitchen, cooking the meal that reminds him of happy times with his mom, makes my chest ache.

I’m not feeling that great, actually. Might have to take a rain check tonight.

I drag myself home to my empty apartment, the silence broken only by the hum of my laptop.

Would I have cared so much about getting revenge on Justin if I’d been completely happy with my own life? Or was this whole thing just a way to avoid dealing with my own issues? Traveling around Europe by myself wasn’t enjoyable. I’d been aimless, a person with no purpose. So when I spotted Justin, and the concept of revenge entered my head, I seized the idea of having a project.

Maybe I’d really been searching for something much simpler—and much scarier—than revenge.

I’d achieved everything possible career-wise. I was a multi-millionaire by the age of twenty-five. I’d become rich, one of the leaders in my field, everything I’d dreamed of being when I was a bullied teenager.

Yet my success had never filled that hollow space inside me, that gap where genuine connection should be.

How incredibly ironic is it that in the last ten years, besides Leo and Matthew, the only other person I’d actually connected with was Justin.

A knock at my door startles me from my spiral of self-reflection.

When I open the door, Justin is standing there holding a reusable bag and a container of what appears to be soup.

“I thought if you weren’t feeling well, you might want soup rather than a microwave meal,” he says in lieu of a greeting.

“And for when you’re feeling better…” Justin pulls out a Ziplock bag of M&Ms from his bag. “I even took out all the brown ones for you.”

He’s grinning, but I can see the hesitation in his eyes. He doesn’t understand why I’ve pulled away from him.

I’m hurting him.

This man has already been hurt so much…and I’m hurting him more.

I can’t stand the fear on his face. The colorful M&Ms, sorted so carefully just for me, nearly break me.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

Then I lean forward and brush my lips over his. It’s just a gentle kiss, but when I pull back, Justin has closed his eyes.

When his eyes open, he exhales a relieved sigh.

“I thought I’d done something wrong,” he says, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really shitty at this.”

“You’re not shitty at this. You’re amazing.” The words fall so easily from my lips.

“And I know I don’t have any other experience to judge it by, but I thought… I thought yesterday was incredible.”

“It was incredible,” I agree miserably.

His eyes search my face, and I have to look away.

“It’s just…” I start. “I’m not at a point in my life where I want a relationship. Like, I’m not sure how long I’m going to stay in London. I’m not really sure about anything.” Ain’t that the truth. I huff a deep breath before I continue, “I don’t want to string you along.”

Justin’s quiet for a long moment. “Could we…? I don’t know…just continue to hook up with no strings?”

My gaze flies up to him. “Justin…”

“I feel so comfortable with you, and I’d prefer to learn with you than anyone else.” His cheeks flush, but his gaze remains steady on me.

“I told you before, I’m definitely not an expert on gay sex.”

“You definitely seemed like an expert from where I was standing,” Justin says.

His words send heat coursing through me. When he steps closer, I don’t back away. When his hand cups my face, I lean into his touch.

Can I do this again? Can I continue this charade?

The hope on Justin’s face makes the decision for me.

I can’t replace that hope with hurt. I just can’t.

I kiss him.

Our kiss starts gentle but quickly deepens into something more desperate. Justin’s hands slide under my shirt as we stumble toward my bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing in our wake.

I can’t be honest with Justin with my words. But I can be honest with my body.

Every touch feels like salvation and damnation. Every kiss healing and hurting.

But I can’t stop. Not when Justin’s looking at me like I’m something precious.

Not when his hands on my skin feel so right.