The Intern: An MM Office Romance

by Akeroyd , Serena

  Sending off a few final emails that I needed to be in a graphic designer’s inbox first thing tomorrow morning, I got to my feet and stretched. My back was already aching, and I needed to go for a run to pound out the day’s tensions.

  Before I pounded Devlin.

  A smile played on my lips at the thought, and I reached for my jacket, shrugged into it, before turning around to begin gathering my possessions together so I could leave.

  “That’s a dirty smile.”

  I jerked in surprise as I pocketed my things, not having realized Rhode was standing so close to my cubicle.

  “Is it?” I mumbled, said smile faltering and turning wary as she perched on the side of Cassandra’s empty desk, which explained why the VP had come out—to find her assistant. “Cassandra’s in the restroom,” I informed her, hoping that would make her get up and go.

  Rhode wafted a disinterested hand, then peered at me. She had a weird way of looking over her glasses that made you feel as if you were beneath a scientist’s microscope. Maybe that was someone’s idea of a good time, but it wasn’t mine.

  “You have plans for tonight?” She tutted. “And on a school night too,” she tacked on before I could reply.

  “I plan to run,” I told her truthfully.

  Her gaze drifted down over me. “That explains a lot. You look too bulky to be a runner though. Did you play ball in college?”

  I shook my head. “Just in high school.”

  “Quarterback?”

  “Linebacker.”

  Her lips twisted. “With a face like that and a spot on the team, I’ll bet you were Prom King.”

  “Mostly because of my girlfriend,” I told her, refraining from adding on the word ‘ex.’ “She was head cheerleader.”

  “Of course she was. Such a cliché, but you’re pretty enough to work it.” She hummed as she stood up, straightening her skirt as she did so. I wasn’t sure if the flash of her tits as she leaned over was intentional or not but I quickly looked away, pretending that I was reaching into my drawer to grab something when my wallet and cell were both in my pocket.

  “Enjoy your run, Micah,” she said smoothly, stepping away with a click-clack of those heels she wore.

  “Have a good night, Rhode,” I called out, turning to watch her waddle away.

  Did straight men fail to spot the gravitational issues she had with staying straight on those stilts?

  I wondered if they didn’t care and preferred to think of them digging into their ass cheeks... it was a distinct possibility.

  A weird swell of relief surged inside me at the odd thought. I didn’t need to pretend anymore.

  God, talk about a weight off.

  Chelsea, my ex, had worn high heels for parties, and she’d seemed to think they’d turn me on. I’d had more bruises on my butt from those damn shoes than from football training.

  Though I doubted Devlin would dig those custom Italian Oxfords into my ass, I much preferred that as an option.

  Rhode staggering off in a manner I assumed was supposed to be enticing because, from the corner of my eye, I saw she looked over her shoulder when she was in her office to see if I was watching, was a delicious reminder of my change in circumstances.

  Even if Devlin was grouchy as hell tonight, I’d deal with it.

  Even if he was awkward again, I preferred it to talking about TikTok or IG with Chelsea.

  Maybe it was crazy for me to keep on persevering with him when I could just head to VICE again, but VICE didn’t have Devlin.

  And, Lord help me, he was the one I wanted.

  It might not be forever, but for the moment, I wanted to crack his shell. Wanted to understand him and how he worked. And, of course, I wanted to fuck him again, because I had the discomforting feeling nothing and no one would ever feel as good as he did.

  As I headed out of the department and toward the elevator, closing my eyes as it chugged its way down to the vestibule, I thought about last night’s date.

  We’d ended up discussing the futures’ market and some IPOs that were interesting. Though I’d enjoyed it, Devlin had clung onto each subject like it was a life raft. Why I scared him so much, I wasn’t sure. He never allowed silence to fall between us for long, and until now, hadn’t even let me kiss him again.

  Or vice versa.

  Whatever I’d expected when he’d invited me over for dinner, three nights in a row, it wasn’t sex-less dinner dates.

  I mean, I wasn’t complaining. I liked what we talked about, and he was so ill-at-ease it was close to amusing, plus his apartment was fantastic. After my place which was too small for me to hold my arms wide apart, being back in decent surroundings was a joy. Then there was the food he served and the wine we shared.

  Devlin, for all he was as edgy as a cat on a hot tin roof, knew how to be a good host. And while his hosting skills weren’t all I was interested in, my evenings were a lot more entertaining than before that night at VICE.

  With relief, I made it to the vestibule, eyes popping open just as I knew we were approaching the first floor. I always waited until past the rush to get out of the building because I couldn’t deal with the elevator or atrium being jam-packed, not after a long day at work. Seeing Rachel wasn’t at her desk, I wandered out onto the busy streets and headed for my bus stop.

  Once upon a time, I’d have just grabbed a taxi and wouldn’t have thought anything of it. My first year, Dad had made a driver service available to me because Mom had been worried about me in the Big Apple.

  Funny how they could do that then but didn’t care about me now.

  Or maybe they still cared, just not enough to let me be me?

  Either way, the driver service was long gone.

  That was why it was weird dating Devlin. It was a reminder of what I’d lost, but I didn’t exactly miss it. And if that was privilege speaking, then so be it. I sure as hell didn’t feel privileged with the chaotic bus journey ahead of me, but nothing was worth being pigeon-holed, nothing.

  I was just glad I’d learned that at my age, not after I’d been forced to marry Chelsea, father a couple of kids with her, then crack up, divorce, and finally come out when I was in my forties.

  Shuddering at the fate my family wanted for me, I made it to the stop just in time.

  As I got onto the busy bus, I grabbed one of the few remaining seats. Though it was hectic with people, I preferred it to the subway when I could swing it. It took longer, but it was worth it not to have to deal with the crowds and the odd pressure in my chest that I always felt. I was sure, one day, I’d head down those stairs into the subway, and the ceiling would cave in and the city would tumble in after it.

  Talk about hell.

  The forty-minute bus ride wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could do. Fort George was a little out of my means, too close to the city to be cheap, but I budgeted as best I could to make it work.

  In the morning, for speed’s sake, I dealt with the horror of the subway because arriving late to an internship that could make or break my resumé was more of a nightmare than the trains.

  Once the day was over, and my time was my own, I used the bus and let the journey take as long as was necessary. Even if the forty minutes sometimes veered toward ninety if traffic was bad.

  When I made it home, I immediately switched into workout gear, shoved my phone into the running pouch I strapped onto my arm, and stuck my AirPods into my ears before I headed on out again.

  Six miles later, feeling more alive even if I was tired, I rushed back, quickly showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a loose linen shirt.

  Slipping into some leather loafers, I waited on Gian to ring my buzzer as I poured some fish food into the large glass bowl that perched on what my landlord called a kitchen counter.

  Barely done with that, the buzzer sounded, and I smiled at my perfect timing and grabbed my keys, wallet, and cellphone, then made my way out.

  Gian, dressed smartly in a gray tailored suit with a cap, opened the door
for me, then rushed over to the roadside where he opened the car door for me too. When I slipped into the limo, I was surprised to note that the privacy compartment was up, and it took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkness to realize I wasn’t alone.

  Devlin was there, his legs outstretched, feet crossed at the ankle, broodingly looking into a glass he’d filled with some amber liquid.

  The urge to go to him was strong, to take a seat at his side and to just... Damn, I didn’t know. I was still uneasy with affection outside of sex.

  It wasn’t like I was a woman. Chelsea would have cuddled up at my side, nuzzled into me to try to jerk me out of my bad mood.

  The thought made me vow to message her before the week was up because she’d been a good girlfriend, just a boring one, and she wasn’t a guy—that was hardly her fault. But thoughts of what she’d do and what I wasn’t sure if I should do had me hesitating even more.

  “Didn’t expect to see you in here,” I said lightly, staying where I was for the time being.

  This wasn’t a town car, but a full on limo, with bench seats down the sides of it. That was where he was. Perched in the corner by the little cabinet at the front where there was a small fridge—I’d explored it the first night I’d traveled in it.

  “Long day. I only just got out of the office and didn’t feel like wasting time.”

  Wasting time? With me?

  I didn’t let hurt swirl inside me, not when the car started moving and he sank his drink back, then shuffled over the seats to sit at my side.

  He didn’t stop until we were close together, until he was pretty much leaning against me, so I realized that I’d misunderstood him. Mostly I was just glad that he’d made the move to come closer to me. I wasn’t sure of my place yet, wasn’t sure what he wanted from me. I preferred to think of myself as being more reactive than passive, but still... it felt good to have him lean on me.

  Cautiously, I raised my arm and sank it around his shoulders. He didn’t pull back, just muttered, “I hate people.”

  I had to laugh. “They do suck sometimes.”

  “They do.” His grouchy assertion amused me even more. “And they’re everywhere in this fucking city. Can’t get away from them.”

  “Your office is pretty quiet,” I argued, willing to defend a city that I loved. That, like a friend, had helped me liberate myself. “Your apartment is too.”

  “There’s a difference between quiet and being hemmed in on all sides.”

  I snorted. “If you want to see what being hemmed in is like, you should have come up to my place.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  Hesitating at the off-topic question, I asked, “Who? My father?”

  “Yeah. You lived somewhere else before he cast you out, right?”

  “I did. I was in dorms for the first year, then a frat house. Things changed when I wanted to move out.”

  “Why did you? Couldn’t you have stayed at the frat house? Or were they homophobic too?”

  “They were better than my dad, but it was awkward, and I wanted a change of pace.” Sly glances, whispers, making sure to close the bathroom door when that had never been an issue in the past. Like I’d be salivating over their cocks now they knew I was into men.

  “Was it worth it?” he asked sleepily.

  “Coming out?”

  “Yes. You seemed to have lost a lot.”

  Even though he was right, I still smiled. “It was worth losing. What I gained more than makes up for it.”

  He was silent for so long that I thought he might have fallen asleep. He sure as hell sounded tired enough, and it surprised me that I wouldn’t have minded. Traffic had picked up, so the forty-minute ride would probably take nearer an hour at this time of night, and if he was asleep, maybe he’d be able to relax later on, and I’d see that side of him he revealed to everyone but me. A side I craved without really understanding why.

  Although, this conversation seemed to find him less on edge than usual, which, considering its start, I took to be a positive. Mostly, I just enjoyed being close to him, holding him. It seemed like a lifetime since I’d been this close to anyone, and it felt good.

  Right.

  Only, Devlin wasn’t asleep. About ten minutes later, he murmured, “Why am I happy to be with you and tongue-tied at the same time?”

  “The mysteries of attraction,” I said lightly, realizing that he’d spent that time wondering what to talk about while I was content to let my mind drift as I held him.

  “You’re not tongue-tied,” he accused.

  “No, but I’m human. From all your creaking, I think we have to find you a heart is all.”

  A sharp laugh escaped him. “You’ve been watching The Wizard of Oz.”

  “And you haven’t? If you caught that reference.”

  “My mother’s favorite musical,” he muttered disgustedly.

  I squeezed him. “Awkward or not, grouchy or not, I like you, Devlin. You can relax. I mean you no harm.”

  “The craziest thing about that statement is I believe you.” He shook his head, letting out a gruff laugh as he did so. “Maybe it isn’t the Tin Man I emulate, but the lion.” Then, he reached for my chin, tilted it just so and united our mouths.

  It was the most enjoyable traffic jam of my life.

  Fifteen

  Micah

  Rachel: Who the hell is so obsessed with feeding you?

  The text came at the perfect moment. The elevator was unusually full of people. Normally, they tended to shed away as we headed for the upper floors of Astley Tower, but not today.

  Unfortunately for me.

  Squirreled away in the corner, trying not to think about that time at summer camp when—

  Okay, no.

  Just... no.

  Focus.

  Food. Rachel. Devlin.

  He was my mystery feeder, and I wasn’t about to complain. Not when he’d sent me so many nice things over the last few days. And with every care package of food?

  Coconut water.

  I bit my lip to hide my smile, even though there was no one interested in here, everyone was focused either on their cellphone or the monitor that ticked away with every floor at a snail’s pace.

  Me: Someone who realizes that I’m hungry all the time?

  Devlin just didn’t know it was for more than Pad Thai. Though that kiss in the limo... Ugh. Starving. Yeah, I was definitely starving.

  Rachel: *pouts* Why can’t I find someone who wants to fatten me up?

  Me: You don’t go to the right places.

  Rachel: You mean I have to turn gay? Will a lesbian feed me?

  I had to snicker. Me: How the hell would I know?

  Me: Out of curiosity, would you turn gay for food?

  Rachel: We live in the same city, don’t we?

  Me: The same one where it’s about twenty-five dollars for a plate of pasta? Sure do.

  Rachel: I guess I can live off one-dollar slices of pie for a few more years.

  Rachel: Seeing as you won’t share your spoils with me.

  I laughed. Me: Not on your life. Speak later, Rach. Gonna be a crazy one.

  Rachel: Oh, that means I get to be your server again then, hmm? You cut out on lunch dates with me AND expect me to bring you food? Typical man.

  Grinning sheepishly, I tapped out: Me: I promise. Tomorrow. Mantelli’s Deli. My treat.

  Rachel: What if I want you to buy two sandwiches for me? You know, because someone isn’t sharing their loot?

  Me: I can afford your extravagance. xoxo

  Rachel: Okay, then I forgive you. Speak later. <3

  As a result of our text convo, my grin was deeper as I headed off the elevator, and I’d admit there was a spring to my step as I wandered over to my section.

  Normally, seeing Cassandra and hearing Rhode barking at someone was enough to put me in a killer mood. But being aware of a gift waiting on me perked me up.

  It was so hard dumping my stuff then going straight to the
break room to make Rhode her gross coffee when that little white cardboard box was waiting on me, but I managed it, knowing it would earn me less shit throughout the day.

  With one disgusting concoction made, my morning brightened up even more when Cassandra was on the phone as I placed the drink on her table for her to take into Rhode.

  Sequestering myself in my cubicle, my eyes were wide with delight as I wondered what he’d brought me today.

  Devlin—CEO, awkward at dating, Viscount, hot as fuck, and secret feeder.

  I had only one thing there to complain about, and even that was starting to get endearing. Or maybe he was just winning me over with food. I mean, the way to every man’s heart was through his stomach, wasn’t it? I was okay with being predictable.

  When I revealed a cronut from the Dominique Ansel Bakery, my stomach churned. It had been so long since I’d been able to afford one of these, and I took an eager bite, not even pissed when the crispy shards of pastry exploded all over me.

  My phone buzzed with a text. Seeing Devlin’s name, I took another bite as I opened up the message.

  Devlin: How’s it taste?

  Maybe there was some devil at work in my mind, or maybe I just wanted to tease him. I loved the Devlin that was revealed to me through text chats. It was only when we were together, in person, that he was strained. So uber-controlled it might have been easier sitting with someone from the cast of Humans. Only difference was that nothing about Devlin was synthetic.

  With that in mind, I told him: Me: Almost as good as you.

  He didn’t reply for the longest time, enough for me to finish my treat, and for me to wonder if I’d scared him off.

  The thought had me shaking my head at myself, because hell, he was a grown man. What about what I’d said was terrifying?

  Devlin: If I wasn’t in the middle of a boring meeting, I’d call up for you.

  My stomach twisted with happy knots. Me: What would you do with me IF I decided to obey?

  Devlin: If? There’d be no ‘if’ about it. I’m pretty sure you’d be willing to appease me.

  Me: Depends. Tell me what you’d want.

  Devlin: To know if you taste better after coconut water or a cronut.