M. Sterling
"That's not good," I say, voice distant.
"No." His arms tighten around me. "It's not."
The post-orgasm haze evaporates, replaced by cold dread. Sterling's face flashes in my mind—that calculating look,one winner, one loser, that's the game.
"What do you think he wants?" I whisper.
"I don't know." Devan's jaw is set. "But whatever it is, we face it together. Remember?"
"Together," I echo.
But the word feels hollow.
***
My hand is in Devan's, our fingers laced tight enough to hurt. Neither of us slept much. We spent the night tangled together, not talking, just holding on.
The administrative building is quiet this early on a Saturday. Our footsteps echo on marble. The portraits of distinguished alumni seem to watch us pass—old white guys in old suits, judging us for daring to want things.
Sterling's door is solid oak. Devan knocks.
"Come in."
We step inside.
Sterling is behind a massive mahogany desk, perfectly pressed. Dr. Thorne stands by the window with her arms crossed.
"Sit," Sterling says.
We sit, our hands linked between the chairs.
Sterling notices. His lips twitch.
"I'll cut right to it," he says. "Yesterday was illuminating. You're both exceptional. Individually, you represent exactly the kind of talent the Johnston was designed to cultivate."
He pauses.
"But together?" He shakes his head. "Together, you're a liability."
My stomach drops.
"The hesitation in that room," Sterling continues. "The way you tried to wound but couldn't commit to the kill. Impressive, but concerning."
"Sir," Devan says carefully, "our relationship doesn't affect our professional capabilities—"
"It already has." Sterling cuts him off. "Yesterday, you both pulled your punches. Not much, but enough."
Thorne speaks. "The internship is high-pressure. Long hours. Intense competition. We can't have candidates whose judgment might be compromised by..." She waves at our linked hands. "This."
"So here's what's going to happen," Sterling says. He picks up two folders. "These are your offers."
He sets one in front of me. One in front of Devan.
"We're prepared to offer the internship to either of you," Sterling says. "But only one. And the other signs a non-compete agreement."
The words don't register. Just sounds.
