3. Shilo
Shilo
“ I look like a goob. A goofy one.”
Glaring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I touch the gel-slicked hair on my head. It’s awful. Horrendous. Same with the dress shirt and pants I borrowed from Dad. “I look like I wear a fedora and go around saying ‘milady .’”
My sister snorts, rolling her dark eyes as she turns me around to fasten my tie. “No, you don’t. You look nice.”
“ Nice ?“ Flapping my arms like a bird, I show her how the sleeves hang loose. “Paige, look at this. I’m about to take flight right out the window. And my pants won’t stay up.”
“Shilo,” she sighs in frustration, grabbing my shoulders when I start to chirp. “Will you stop? I know you’re nervous, but this isn’t a big deal.”
See, that’s where she’s wrong. This is a big deal. As in half-my-grade-for-the-semester big deal. As in, if I don’t land this internship, I fail the course and have to start again next year big deal.
Big frickin’ deal.
She rolls up my sleeves, her brows pinching with concern as her fingers circle my thin wrists. “Mom offered to take you shopping, but you refused.”
“Yeah, because it’s embarrassing. Nothing ever fits right. Why couldn’t we just order something off Amazon like normal people?”
“You know why.” Blowing brunette waves out of her face, she frowns at the pant legs pooling around my feet. “And things would fit you if you actually ate something.”
I scowl at the top of her head when she kneels to fold the hems of my pants. “I ate breakfast.”
“And before that?”
Okay, she’s got a point. Before that, nothing. Not since breakfast yesterday—or maybe the day before. Honestly, eating takes a lot of brain power, and mine all goes to programming.
Once she’s done, I step out of the bathroom into my bedroom, squinting in the black light as I dig through my dresser drawers. “Why can’t this interview be online? Who even does in-person interviews anymore?”
“You can’t live your whole life through a computer, Iggy.” Paige flips on the light, startling my rat, who squeals in his cage by the closet. “CalTek does things differently.”
“Yeah, well, you’d think they’d be all for it.”
Seriously, CalTek is one of the most innovative software developers on the West Coast. They were on the list of companies my professor sent out in August, offering internship interviews, but... I dropped the ball. Kind of forgot about it, honestly. By the time I received a passive-aggressive reminder from my professor, interviews were closed.
Lucky for me, though, I’ve got a sister who happens to work at CalTek as Head of Security. And she’s also dating one of the CEO’s twins. Both of whom need an assistant.
Woo-frickin’-hoo.
Pulling out a pair of suspenders, I clip them onto my belt as Paige grimaces.
“Suspenders? Really? Are we seventy?”
“You’re just jealous that you can’t pull them off,” I grin, flopping onto my bed to slip on my Chucks.
I need the suspenders to keep the pants up—my belt’s too big now. But if I tell Mom or Dad I need a new one, they’ll worry, and it’ll turn into a whole thing. Yada yada. No thanks.
My sister rolls her eyes, glancing at her phone. “Are you almost ready?”
No. This is sucky, and I don’t wanna go.
Giving her a noncommittal shrug, I move over to Master Splinter, my rat, to give him a treat. Then, I make my bed— slowly .
Next, I grab the watering can from my desk and tend to all my plants (there’s a lot) before deciding now’s a perfect time to check on my custom World of Warcraft server. Paige watches me the entire time, arms crossed, her heeled boot tapping against the floor. She has way more patience than I give her credit for.
It’s not until I start fiddling with my 3D printer that she snaps, marching over to gently but firmly grab my shoulders.
“Iggy,” she starts, using my childhood nickname. “Come on, what’s the deal? This is a great opportunity to get your foot in with an amazing company. Even Doctor Iskar thinks so. Don’t you want to work with me?”
“Of course I do.” Guilt washes over me as I avoid her gaze. “I just... don’t see why I can’t do this from home. I really, really wanna stay home, Paige.”
She studies me for a long moment, her fingers flexing on my arms. “I wish you’d talk to me. You were doing so well in August. Ubering, shopping with Dad, going on walks with Mom. But then everything just...” She trails off, and I shrink into myself, wishing I could curl up like an armadillo and roll away. “Two months, Igs. You haven’t left the house in two months. Is it because of what happened with that guy?”
A pair of hazel eyes flash in my mind, the same ones that have haunted my dreams for weeks. I can still hear his deep voice, whispering sweet words before cruelly kicking me out. Just thinking about what we did—and where his fingers were—has me flinching with embarrassment.
Of course I told Paige the bare minimum. Besides the faceless strangers I game with online, she’s my only friend.
Licking my lips nervously, I pull away and head into the bathroom. “It just... set me back a little. But it’s fine, I promise. I’m fine.”
Zig Ziglar once wrote, ‘Repetition is the mother of learning, the father of action, which makes it the architect of accomplishment. ’ The more I tell myself I’m fine, the more I’ll believe it.
Paige watches me, unconvinced, as I dip my head into the sink, washing the sticky gel out of my fading purple strands.
I really hope that if I keep saying it out loud, eventually, everyone else will believe it, too.
CalTek sits smack in the middle of downtown Seattle’s business district, with a breathtaking view of Elliott Bay. The building itself is made of silver glass and sleek metal arches, twisted in an artsy-fartsy way that probably cost millions. At the very top, there’s a tower where the CEO supposedly reigns supreme while the rest of the peasants toil away in cubicles and labs below.
Paige leads me through the massive sliding glass doors, and the lobby opens into a sprawling atrium. A towering white oak tree stretches toward a glass ceiling, surrounded by lush greenery lining the curved walkways. I pause near a fern, brushing its delicate leaves, and Paige nudges my shoulder with a grin.
“They’re all real,” she says, gesturing to the glass ceiling above us. “The architects used smart glass that adjusts the light. It’s tintable and controlled by an app.”
I nod, falling into step behind her. “I read about that. CalTek developed the software, right?”
“Yep. It’s our bread and butter.”
She greets the security team at the front desk, introducing me briefly while I study the plants with my hands shoved into my pockets. The lobby buzzes with energy, the sound of voices and footsteps blending into a dull static in my ears. I feel bad for the plants stuck in this fishbowl of a building. You’d think it’d be hard to grow with hundreds of eyes watching you every day, but they’re probably made of sturdier stuff than I am.
“Ronin Callahan must be, like, a gazillionaire,” I mutter once we’re alone again, referencing the company’s CEO.
Paige huffs a dry laugh, grabbing a radio before leading me into a glass elevator in the middle of the lobby. “He’s no Bezos or Gates, but he’s definitely up there.”
“And does his majesty ever come down from the ivory tower?”
She shoots me an unimpressed look. “Sparingly. I’ve seen him maybe ten times in five years. He handles the big-picture stuff and leaves day-to-day decisions to Declan and Ry.”
“Right, the two princes looking for a lackey. Which is why I’m here.”
“Shilo, enough.”
As the glass elevator rises, I wish it would take us right through the roof, like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory .
Just yeet me the frick outta here.
“You’ll like Declan, he’s super chill,” Paige assures me, smoothing a wrinkle on my shirt. “Ry is… a little abrasive at first, but he grows on you.”
I scoff, pointing at her. “That’s just a nice way of saying he’s a massive dick, but you get used to it.”
She laughs as the elevator dings, opening up to a fancy lounge with bright furniture. “I’m still not used to hearing you swear. It sounds weird. Like a toddler cursing.”
“You should hear what people say when I game online. It’d make your hair curl.”
“No thanks, I get enough of that working with IT guys all day.”
She leads me to a set of double doors labeled Conference Room Alpha before pausing to fuss over my appearance.
“You should’ve left the gel in. You need a haircut, Igs.” She pushes a loose strand of hair back from my face and grins when I bat her hand away. “How about we put in some fresh dye this weekend?”
“Fine. And you’ll repaint my nails?”
Paige grabs my hands, frowning at the chipped purple polish. “Only if you stop biting them. You’re ruining my handiwork, jerk face.”
“No promises.”
With an eye roll, she releases me and slaps my shoulders before stepping back. “Alright, don’t be nervous. I already told them we were coming, so they’re expecting you. I’ll wait out here, and afterward, we’ll grab food at the café. Sound good?”
No . Hell no. But I nod because I really need this grade, and at least the internship is paid. Maybe they’ll let me work from home. Emails, spreadsheets—I can handle that. I can so handle that.
“Good luck,” my sister winks, swiping her security badge to unlock the doors before gently pushing me inside.
The first thing I notice is the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the coast and the Space Needle in the distance. Grey October skies stretch endlessly. A massive wooden table dominates the room, flanked by black office chairs, a gigantic TV screen built into one wall, and—more plants. I focus on the ferns, studying their leaves to avoid looking at the two men sitting at the head of the table.
Apparently, I take too long because one of them clears his throat.
“Shilo Reed?”
That deep, familiar voice hits me like a freight train, and I go rigid.
I know that voice.
It’s the same one I hear at night, whispering things like doll face and baby, that was unsatisfying, thanks for nothing.
A voice I’ve jerked off to more times than I care to admit over the last two months, the weight of shame crashing down on me every morning after.
Like a magnetic pull, my eyes lift and lock onto his golden-green irises, burning into me like two hot coals.
Ryann stares at me, expressionless.
Next to him, his brother Declan smiles warmly, tilting his head in mild confusion. “Please, take a seat. We’re excited to meet you.”
But I can’t. I can’t be here. I can’t speak. I can’t do this.
As nausea churns in my stomach, bile rising from the pancakes Mom insisted I eat this morning, I do the only thing that makes sense.
I turn and run.