When I reach the elevators, I rush to the one that’s the closest to this floor. I’m not the only pragmatic person here, as many people soon join me in my wait for the doors to open.
The stainless steel panels part with an elegant ‘ding,’ and everyone rushes into it. Since I’m on the front line, I’m unceremoniously pushed toward the few people already inside. I miraculously manage to press the button for my floor before being shoved further into the confined space.
The eager mob forces me toward someone standing in the corner, but I successfully stop before I bump into them. At least until an elbow shoves me in the back and I stumble into the stranger. My hand instinctively reaches up to secure my balance, flattening over the solid plane of a stomach—my only option. That’s when I realize it’s a man. A very fit man.
“I’msosorry,” I mumble as I remove my hand, quickly glimpsing up at him. He doesn’t even bother looking down, but his face distracts me from that fact.
Holy shit.
He’s hot.
Like, damn …
Before I can properly take in his features, other than the intense eyes, square jaw, dark hair, and stubble, I’m pushed into him again, probably by the same elbow.
God, that is one muscular chest.
“Will you stop shoving, please?” I frustratedly ask, twisting around the best I can. Then I mumble to myself, “People have no respect for personal space.”
“They don’t.”
That came from the hot stranger against me. Of course, his voice is alluring as well. Low, a little husky, as though he just woke up. His eyes are on me this time, but they don’t stay there for long, and he quickly looks ahead again. Finally, the doors close, and we rise to the upper floors, providing little distraction from the warm body I’m pressed against.
“I’m very sorry for being all over yours,” I say with a wince. “Personal space, I mean.”
With a barely perceptible shrug, he mumbles, “It’s fine.”
The elevator keeps halting and resuming its course. At this pace, it’ll take ages to get to my floor. To make matters worse, the man againstme makes me grow embarrassingly hot. Great, I’ll arrive late, underdressed, and sweaty…
Since he isn’t paying attention to me, I peer up at him discreetly. Like my abuela always says, the least we can do when God provides eye candy is appreciate it. He seems to be in his early to mid-thirties, tall and imposing, which is like a magnet for shorter women like me. I never really got why. Maybe some deeply-rooted need from when men had to fend off wild animals.
When I look down again, my mind is out of the gutter enough to notice his gray T-shirt, which comforts me about my outfit. Not everyone who works here wears suits. Although it isn’t a tight fit, I can guess at the broadness of his chest underneath and the defined pecs.
As a sapiosexual with a mild sex drive, I’m never attracted to men at first sight. So I don’t understand why my stomach flutters every time I peek at the stranger. Maybe it’s the sharpness of his eyes. Helookssmart, not just handsome. There’s a pair of reading glasses tucked into his shirt collar, and I crave to see him with those on. They must make him look like a nerdy genius.
Something jolts between us, right around his crotch area, and I freeze, my eyes going huge.
Oh my …
“Excuse me,” he says before reaching for his pocket, his hand gliding over the front of my T-shirt. Good thing I’m wearing a padded bra because the girls are having a strong reaction to the platonic graze.
He takes his phone out, and I realize it buzzed. That’s what happened—not an impromptu boner over me.Andy, you cretin. You look like an underdressed imp.
Because of the lack of space, he has no choice but to settle it between us. He unlocks the screen to check the text he received and—
Holy fuck.
It’s a nude.
The man instantly locks the screen again, but it’s too late; I saw the steamy picture he received. The youthful platinum-blonde goddess in it was in a very suggestive pose, showing off her perfect breasts and toned stomach. I’d probably be more into sending out nudes if I had such amazing tits instead of, as per an ex’s words, “mosquito bites.”
Since the situation is rather comical, a laugh bubbles in my chest, but I do everything I can to suppress it.
What a way to begin my first day of work.
I’m slowly accepting my terrible fate—being pressed against a dashing guy for the rest of eternity—when the space clears a little. Wearen’t intimately flushed together now. Upon noticing the next stop is mine, I look up one last time to give the man an apologetic smile. His eyes lower to mine, and then he glances at my T-shirt.
His face remains remarkably neutral, and I can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign.
