Me.
Milo Murphy.
Neurovance Tech’s newest MRT.
Employees whizzed by on Neurovance-branded hoverboards and scooters, and I found myself clumsily stumbling out of the way to avoid getting clipped by a couple of women zooming off to what I could only assume was a meeting of some kind.
I needed a map before I could even begin to get my bearings, which, conveniently, I had. On page four of my employee manual was a detailed illustration of the campus’ layout.
There was a large, black location icon indicating where orientation began, with instructions on how to input the coordinates into my Neurovance app. The link to the app had been emailed along with my contract, and I had diligently downloaded it onto my phone a week before my start date.
Pushing my round frameless glasses up my nose, I fumbled with my phone, doing my best to type in the directions without losing my grip on my thick orientation packet.
Stuffing the packet between my teeth and holding my phone up to squint against the sun, I was nearly done typing in the coordinates when another scooter whipped by, catching the strap of my messenger bag and sending me sprawling out across the pristine, black pathway that cut through the manicured green space.
“Arrrghhh!” I cried out, and my pamphlet dropped, spilling my papers all over the pathway. I groaned as the documents exploded out of the folder, scattering around me in a big mess that basically signaled me as the biggest klutz to ever grace this gorgeous campus.
Somehow, I lost both my glasses and my phone in the fall, and my vision went blurry as my chin smacked into the asphalt.
Dangit.
I sighed, irritated with myself for already living up to the name ofMurphquakein my first five seconds on campus.
So much for leaving that version of myself behind.
No matter how many times things like this happened, it never ceased to feel humiliating, and my cheeks burned as I got up on all fours, patting the space around me in search of my glasses.
“Way to go, Murph…”I grumbled to myself, blindly crawling through the loose papers in search of my specs.
A shadow appeared, and I blinked up at the dark figure that was now looming over me.
“Hey,” said the shadow. “Looking for these?”
The shadow handed me what I assumed—hoped—were my glasses, and I blinked up at him.
My clumsy fingersfumbled for my glasses, and I let out a shaky laugh as I pushed them back on my nose, relieved as the world came back into sharp focus.
“Thanks…” I mumbled as my gaze adjusted, and I was able to take in the face of my savior.
Jiminy Christmas!
The man looking down at me waswaytoo hot to be talking to me.
Which usually meant I was about to be thoroughly reminded of my permanent status at the bottom of the social food chain.
Terror rolled through me at the sight of him. He was just the type of guy who would love to make my life a living hell.
He had a messy explosion of chestnut hair that stood out in all directions in an effortless‘I’m too cool to care’kind of way that would take most people hours to achieve if they tried. I followed the sharp cut of his clean-shaven jaw down to the lean cords of his throat that disappeared into his white collar.
His skinny black tie was in a haphazard knot far too low down his chest, and his black suit jacket looked like it could use a good iron.
Honestly, his slim-fit black suit pants weren’t in much better condition, and instead of dress shoes, he was wearing black and white high tops.
Anyone else would have just looked like they got dressed in the dark. He somehow made it look like some weird, quirky academic spread you would see in Vogue.
I squinted up at him, and he gave me an amused smile before bending down to gather up some of my lost papers. As he reached past me, I caught a whiff of his woodsy cologne.
He smelled like a complex mix of birch and oak. The scent made my mouth go instantly dry.
