Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
SPENCER
Staring longingly out my office window, I fantasize about being on the other side of the glass, out in the sunshine and the heat.
It’s a perfect day to go surfing or relax on the beach.
A perfect day to hang out with friends. A perfect day for literally anything other than crunching numbers under fluorescent lighting.
When you live, work, and go to school on the coast, there's this constant temptation to take a “beach day” instead of a “sick day.” But I just started this job, so I don’t think it would be appreciated, no matter how much I’m dying to get my surfboard out of the attic and shred some waves.
My office phone suddenly rings, startling me out of the daydream.
There’s only one person here who calls my desk, so I pick it up, answering with my full name. “Spencer Hayes.”
“Son, do you mind making me another cup of coffee before my meeting starts? I’m finishing up the final line items on an expense report, and I cannot be pulled away,” my dad says over the phone, hanging up before he even gets an answer.
I sigh, pushing my chair back and heading to the breakroom to make yet another coffee.
I grab the specific dark roast pod he likes, because I’ve already learned my lesson to never serve him anything else.
I also know how he takes his cream and sugar.
You’d think I was a fucking barista instead of a junior accountant in training.
Accepting a summer job at my dad’s accounting firm sounded like a good idea at the time, but that was before I knew what it’s like to be stuck inside four walls with him for eight hours a day.
I always imagined I would follow in his footsteps with the family business; in fact, it’s expected of me. I’m majoring in business administration with a concentration in accounting, and I’ve never even thought twice about it.
But now that I’m actually working in the office with him, it feels stuffy and boring. Oppressive, even. Like something is missing in my life.
Something exciting.
Something fun.
Something spontaneous.
A feisty little blond flashes through my mind against my will. He’s been creeping into my thoughts a lot lately. At the most random times, too.
Tate is full of passion and life, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of him while I wait for this nasty-ass coffee to finish brewing.
Toby and Shane’s going-away party was pretty chill, but Tate was focused on spending quality time with them before they left. As he should. So, we barely even said hello to each other. The stolen glances aren’t enough; I need to see him again and talk to him without everyone else around.
I never kiss and tell, but I’ve hooked up with a couple guys in my past. Nothing further than kissing and jerking off in the same room together, but it’s happened.
More than once. I haven’t told anyone, not even my best friends, but I’m pretty sure that makes me bi.
Although I’ve never felt a spark with any of them like I have with Tate.
There’s just something special about the sassy twink who loves to keep me on my toes, and I need to know more about him. I just have to figure out how to make that happen organically.
Moving on autopilot, I add cream and sugar and grab a coffee stirrer before delivering it to my father.
“Thanks,” he grunts, not even looking up at me while tapping away on his old-school calculator that looks more like a typewriter.
Meandering back to my desk, I pick up my iPhone instead of logging back into my computer. As soon as I open Insta, the object of my infatuation fills the screen as if it’s a sign from the universe.
His newest photo makes my heart pitter-patter and my dick perk up, stretching against the confines of my slacks.
Holy hell.
Tate’s on the beach in the tiniest pair of swim trunks I’ve ever seen, throwing up a peace sign with his tongue sticking out. His sexy confidence and bold personality are such a fucking turn-on. Now, I’m wishing I had a “beach day” even more.
Without overthinking, I like the post and type out a comment, hitting send before I can stop myself.
Currently stuck behind a desk wishing I was there right now.
Before I set my phone down and attempt to get back to work, I receive a reply and smirk at Tate’s comment.
@just.spence007 Also wishing you were here with me.
I reply quickly, so I can’t chicken out.
@twinknextdoor We’ll have to make that happen soon.
My heart is racing at this point, but it was the perfect opportunity to subtly voice my interest in seeing him more, and his response squashes my building panic.
@just.spence007 You bet.
With a silly smile on my face, I put my phone away and attempt to focus back on work before I get fired by my own dad in my first week. I would never hear the end of it from either of my parents.
I power through my first project, and just as I’m finalizing it, an email pops up from my dad, and I’m already conditioned to dread it.
After you finish the spreadsheet, please re-alphabetize the payable files. Hannah made a mess of them before she left.
I sigh, hating that I have to clean up someone else’s mess.
Hannah was the intern before me, and she didn’t even last a month. Leslie, the receptionist, told me all about it. Apparently, she ran from the building crying and left all her belongings behind. Leslie was instructed by my father to pack up and ship the picture frames of her dog back to her.
Corporate is fucking brutal, and the fact that I’m already unwillingly privy to office gossip is another strike against working here.
By the time I finish with the stupid, fucked-up filing cabinet, it’s lunch time, and I’m desperate to get the hell out of here. I need a breather.
Practically running from the office, I say bye to Leslie on my way out and hop in my Jeep, heading to the sandwich shop down the street.
Since it’s prime lunchtime, there’s a long line nearly out the door, but it moves quickly. I order my favorite chicken-bacon-ranch sub with onions and peppers and opt to sit outside in the sun to eat. I don’t care that it’s ninety degrees out, I crave fresh air.
I loosen the tie around my neck and unbutton my sleeves, rolling them up to my elbows. I’m absolutely starving and plow through half my sandwich in record time before taking a break to check my phone.
I find myself wondering what Tate’s up to, so I go straight to Instagram.
Tapping on his profile pic, I watch his latest story with rapt attention. He’s frolicking through the water, lip-syncing Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love,” and my eyes are practically glued to the screen. I couldn’t look away if I tried.
Tate drops to his knees, mouthing the words seductively while running his hands down his slim, toned body. Leaning forward, he crawls toward the camera on his hands and knees before rolling in the shallow waves and wet sand. He’s completely committed to the bit, and so am I.
Fuck.
I wish I were there to see his sexy little performance in person.
He’s spontaneous and fun, and so fucking magnetic, he’s impossible to resist. Everyone is pulled to him like some sort of gravitational force, and I seem to be no different.
I tap the heart and reply with a message.
The FOMO is hitting hard.
I add heart-eye emojis because you can never go wrong with them.
He doesn’t reply right away this time, so I set my phone down and finish my lunch in silence before I inevitably have to return to the office.
Flirting with Tate isn’t new, but it’s starting to become real, and I’m more than fucking ready for it to escalate into something beyond mere friendship.
I can only hope he is, too.