“I appreciate the opportunity to work for you, Mr. Mendes”—he really didn’t—“but I think you’re right and we should part ways. Please have HR send me any required paperwork to my personal email. Any personal belongings I’ve left here can be sent with Wyatt.”
His boss stared at him, mouth hanging open and vein pulsing on his shiny red forehead. Jensen set his laptop on the slim table next to the door and spun around on his heel.
Already he was feeling lighter, like a weight had been lifted off him. Though it was cloudy outside and the skyscrapers blocked out any sun that tried to break through, Jensen’s worldwas full of sunshine and birdsong. A stupid smile appeared on his face, one he didn’t even want to tamp down.
Holy shit. He had just quit his job.
He’d quit. Without even giving a two-week notice.
He was free. Completely done with the glass walls and thin desks and mislabeled emergencies. The annoying Garner project that was too generic to require so much attention was no longer his problem.
It feltgood.
“Jensen!”
He turned his head, along with the rest of the office, to see Mendes coming out of his office.
“You signed a contract,” he said, like it was some big gotcha that would force Jensen to say there until he took his last breath.
He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m an at-will employee. At this time, I’m no longer willing to work here.”
Scattered whispers rang out around the open floor plan, and one of Jensen’s now ex-coworkers abruptly ended a call. From the corner of his eye, he could see Wyatt trying to get his attention.
“You owe us two weeks. You owe me! I took you on when you were green behind the ears. I made you, and I can get you blacklisted from every firm in the city.”
Jensen looked around the office at the people he’d spent forty hours or more a week with for the past ten years. A few people were blatantly staring at him, sending him grimaces or looks of concern. Most people were staring blankly at their computer screens or down at their desks. Some were actually working, but not many. Except for Wyatt, Jensen wasn’t friends with any of them. He didn’t talk to them outside of work; he hardly talked to them at work.
Outside, concrete, glass, and steel formed towering buildings that held other firms where Jensen could probably findemployment doing the exact same thing he was doing under Mendes’s command. Going back to middle school held more appeal than that.
“All right,” he said simply. There wasn’t anything else to say. He’d already decided his life in San Francisco was over. There was nothing for him there. Not when Daniel lived in Sevier. Not when he was on the precipice of something great. “If that’s all, I have to get going to the airport.”
He didn’t look back as he strode toward the elevators.
The door opened, and Jensen took his first unimpeded breath in hours.
Daniel slammed into him, his arms going around him instantly. Jensen couldn’t think, couldn’t move beyond burying his face into Daniel’s hair and squeezing them together. The nightmare of two airports, a middle seat on a flight, and handing over his credit card information to a rideshare app was worth it because he got to feel Daniel against his chest. He got to finally, after too long, smell his hair product and rub his lips against the soft strands.
For long minutes, they stood in the doorway, the house’s air-conditioning fighting with the summer night, holding each other. Breathing each other in. Finding comfort. But eventually, Daniel’s hold on Jensen loosened, and he pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.
His hair was disheveled, sticking straight out in the places where his hair gel was disturbed. A slight redness settled below his blue eyes, made starker by his paler than usual skin. The frown and crease between his eyebrows seemed etched onto his face by how deep they were.
“You’re here,” Daniel said on a breath.
“I’m here.” Jensen couldn’t help but press his lips against Daniel’s forehead and took a greedy lungful of his scent. It felt like they’d been apart for months, years, lifetimes. Far too long. And now that they were together again, Jensen couldn’t imagine leaving. “How are you?” he asked. “What can I do?”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know. Can we go sit on the couch?”
Jensen would have climbed Mount Everest if Daniel asked with his quiet, wavering voice, so following him into the occupied living room was easy enough.
The colonial-style room was furnished with colorful pieces of furniture, rugs, and most notably, three other men. Placed in front of the couch Daniel led them to, a coffee table sagged under the weight of the man that sat on it. He had his legs spread, his shorts riding up his thick, hairy thighs, and his elbows resting on his knees. Another one of Daniel’s roommates was cuddled up on an armchair across from them. His massive hoodie had been pulled over his knees so only a pair of thick patterned socks were exposed.
The third roommate vibrated from his spot on the couch’s armrest with an enormous smile on his face. “Hi, boyfriend, I’m Casey, and this is Brody and Arlo. We’resoexcited to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you all too,” Jensen said, then turned his attention back to Daniel.
Jensen wrapped his arm around him and pulled him into his side. Daniel’s hands went to Jensen’s chest and tugged on his shirt, trying to pull him closer. God, if only he could get closer. Jensen wanted to open up his rib cage and force Daniel inside.
After a moment, Daniel let out a breath. “Everyone knows now. I haven’t been making as much as I usually do, and I’ve come up short. They’re covering my portion of rent this month,and I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.” He didn’t look particularly happy about that.
