Hidden Confessions (Quick Bites #2)

Chapter 1

Spencer

On a typical Friday night, by this time I’d be home, huddled up on the couch drinking Modelo beer as I catch up on the latest series on Netflix. But tonight was different. I was still at the office due to a rather special occasion.

Finn Parker’s farewell party.

Noisy chatter scattered across the room, excitement bubbling in the air, but I couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything or enjoy the little party going on. My mind was preoccupied with something else... well, someone.

Watching him move around the room, working his charm on everyone he talked to, made my blood boil. That smug grin of his was practically begging to be slapped off his face. I stayed in my corner, simply observing, but it was impossible not to notice how he kept avoiding coming anywhere near me. It wasn’t an accident. It was on purpose. He wanted me to notice.

Fucking Finn Parker.

After making my life hell for the past three years working together, this fucker decided to run.

To Boston.

Really?

As if distance would change anything between us.

Well, I guess it might. Out of sight, out of mind , wasn’t that how the saying went?

Still, it was hard to believe tonight would be the last I may ever see of Finn Parker. It was his final day at the office, and I’d barely gotten to say more than a few words when the party started before it got tense and awkward, like it always was between us.

How a mere “congratulations” spiraled into a minute-long exchange of jabs I’d never know.

I mean, all I wanted was to genuinely wish him well on starting his own law practice with his sister in Boston. I had come to him, intending for just a normal conversation—say goodbye, wish him the best—but of course Finn couldn’t leave it at that. He just had to make it a thing, smirking as he said, “Well, now the road’s clear for you to make partner. You can thank me later for the opportunity.”

Opportunity, my ass. As if I needed him out of the way to prove myself. Let’s just say our little exchange earned us a few side-eyes from our colleagues. The kind of “here we go again” looks Finn and I often seemed to draw whenever we interacted.

So naturally, I removed myself from the buzz, taking refuge in this little corner.

How did it even get to this, where everyone thought we hated each other?

When did that rumor even spread, and by whom?

However, I get it. I really do.

Finn and I had a habit of getting fired up about certain topics when it came to how we approached our work, like how we analyzed a case strategy, whether to settle or push to trial, or how to manage client expectations. I’ll admit, those arguments sometimes got the better of us.

But not to the point where we hated each other.

At least, I didn’t think so.

At first, I thought it was just friendly bickering when we both started as senior associates at Hogan-Ballard Law Group, but as time passed and the competition became more fierce for who would make partner, what started as playful banter morphed into pointed jabs and sarcastic remarks.

It seemed like he had an agenda to get under my skin with the way he deliberately pushed all the right buttons. He was a master at it, and would often do it until I could no longer ignore him and had to respond. He always had something to say after my presentations—all negative critiques—and of course he just had to take his lunch breaks at the same time I did in the break room. I couldn’t have a moment’s peace to simply enjoy a meal without having to wonder what shitty comment he’d say to rile me up. And what ticked me off the most? His passing comments on my outfits:

“Brown looks better on you.”

“Oh, the color of your belt should match your shoes, Spencer.”

“I think you should try tailored suits instead of just buying from a shop, Spencer.”

I remember my response, too. A very classy, “ No one asked for your damn opinion!”

Okay.

I could see how that would be interpreted as something a little terse, I guess.

Even more than that, I did feel like I had perhaps contributed to our stuff. There wasn’t a single subject that the two of us could ever agree on without it coming down to a verbal match. Even just walking past him in the hallway was a battle to brace for. I’d square my shoulders, keep my face blank, and act like he was invisible, but inside I was all, “Don’t look at him. Don’t you dare stumble . ” I had to focus on every step, every breath, because giving him just an inch of reaction felt like losing ground in a silent war we both refused to acknowledge.

It was clear there was something more going on between us, some kind of unresolved tension , but I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up first and make an embarrassment of myself. Knowing him, he’d just laugh in my face and brush it off, like I was making something out of nothing.

What would I have said, anyway? I think we’re making people uncomfortable?

Why can’t you just let me win?

What’s the deal?

Yeah, right.

Maybe all this tension I was feeling beneath the bickering was only on my end, and for him it was just that—trying to get under my skin to kill his competition. After all, there was only one opening at Hogan-Ballard for partner, and it was either him or me. This war started right from when we locked eyes on our first day of work, like two male lions battling for the same territory. It was either kill or be killed.

So fight we did.

But my fight was more than just clever retorts. It was deeper—shameless even.

A twisted side of me liked it. The aggression. The constant back-and-forth. The way he refused to back down. Yeah, whenever he pinned me down with those green eyes of his... I liked it.

Finn was stubborn and hot-headed, but he was also tall and broad and handsome—annoyingly so. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was about him that drew me in. Perhaps it was only physical.

I know. Shameless.

By the time I caught wind of the rumor spreading around the office like wildfire, it had taken on a form of its own. Before I knew it, the manager had moved our desks to opposite ends of the room just in case.

Just in case of what? We resorted to physical blows instead of verbal? I had no idea.

I didn’t hate Finn with the passion of a thousand burning suns, as said by the rumor. No, no. The truth of the matter was... well... a little dirtier.

I wanted him to fuck me with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

Even admitting that to myself made my cheeks warm in embarrassment.

I took a sip from my wine glass as my eyes roamed over him, studying him as he talked to one of the new paralegals. He flashed the girl a dazzling smile and she in turn blushed head to toe, her eyes taking on a sparkle. I couldn’t blame her for it. Hell, even I wouldn’t know what I’d do if Finn directed that smile at me. He had never smiled at me like that before. I was only on the receiving end of his sinister smirks and evil grins when he was busy annoying the hell out of me.

Was he always this effortlessly charming?

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Finn didn’t like me, and the likelihood of any fucking happening was dwindling to zero at this point. A few more minutes and this party would end. We would go our separate ways. Him to Boston...

Me to the sad remains of all of our office battles.

Also, I knew that nothing would come of it—my feelings for him. That was why the second they reared up within me, I tried everything to squash them, but Finn just had to make it difficult. And really, that made it partially his fault too. How could these feelings die when he was in my face all the fucking time? All the more reason why I couldn’t stand him. Of all the men I could fall for, why did it have to be him? Like, just why?

I wasn’t even sure if he was into men. Though there were a few notable photos I saw of his younger self at an all-men’s pool party—like the ones they have in Miami in the summer—when I stalked his social media. They screamed gay.

There were also moments I’d catch him looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. It reminded me of the way someone looks at something they’ve wanted for a long time but can’t have.

But that didn’t make sense to me. No way was he staring at me with longing.

Ah.

What the hell did it matter now? He was leaving.

“Spence, what are you still doing here?” My co-worker’s voice snapped me out of my spiraling train of depressing thoughts as I tore my gaze away from Finn.

Tracy.

My eyes locked on hers, a little caught off guard. I hope she didn’t see me staring too long at Finn.

“Sorry, what?” I responded, letting out a small laugh. I could feel my cheeks heating up as I rubbed the back of my neck and racked my brain for something to say to fill in. “It’s been a long day. And night, I suppose, with how long this farewell party is dragging on,” I said.

She gave me a look that made my stomach churn. “See, that’s why I’m asking. I thought you’d be the first one to celebrate the fact that Finn’s leaving,” Tracy said, unable to get the smirk off her face. She was one of those co-workers who lived for gossip, and it just so happened that Finn and I seemed to feed into her addiction constantly. I had no idea why.

I took a large gulp of my wine and smiled. “Well, I am celebrating, aren’t I?” I said, pointing my finger at the glass in my hand.

“You sure are,” Tracy responded, giving my shoulder a light nudge. “What I meant is that I thought you’d be the first one toasting ‘to hell with him’ and then leaving. There’s even a bet on who’d be the first to leave the farewell party, and you were on top of that list.”

“Please,” I snorted before my brows knitted together when her words sank in. “Wait, what? How can I get in on this bet?”

I knew for a fact I would win, not because of the bet but because I was planning to stick around till the very end.

“Too late. Carol was the first to leave, so it wouldn’t be fair,” she laughed.

“What’s not fair is being bet on and unable to partake,” I grumbled as I took another sip, letting the alcohol soothe me. “Did anyone bet I would be the last to leave?”

“Hm...” She trailed off, tapping the bottom of her chin. “Who knows?”