Daniel

He didn’t look good. Well, not that he didn’t look good. Finn always looked good.

Today, for instance, he was dressed in tan slacks, with a half-tucked dark blue button-up shirt and a big woolen ivory cardigan over the top. He was a fashion plate. Rumor had it that Finn lived with a model, no doubt his sense of style was a result, he always looked like he’d stepped off the pages of Paris Vogue.

His skillfully shaggy haircut framed his heart-shaped face perfectly—but in such a way that it almost looked like he didn’t care. His thick black waves made me sometimes have the strangest urge to run my fingers through them. Just to see if his locks were as soft as they looked.

He was even wearing glasses today that muted the deep blue of his eyes. I’d only ever seen him wear them occasionally, and while I’d never been a fan of glasses—on anyone—he somehow always pulled them off.

No, it wasn’t Finn’s looks so much as the paleness of his skin that made him look worn out. Finn was naturally pale-skinned, but he looked practically washed out today. There were dark circles under his eyes too—like he’d not slept much, if at all last night.

He’d gotten his work done, no complaints there. But no matter how many times I’d poked at him today, he wouldn’t rise to the bait.

He was basically on autopilot.

That asshole at the club, I should have beaten him bloody yesterday for making my rival look like a shell of his former self. Half my joy in life was seeing the chipmunk come out in Finny when I got him riled up.

It was nearly lunchtime. As usual, Finn wasn’t budging from his seat. No doubt he meant to work through lunch.

Ben started past me. I glanced up at him from my seat in my cubicle. “Where’re you going?”

“Lunch,” he said with a shrug.

“You know if Finn brought something?”

“Why? You worried?” he asked with a smirk.

Giving him a deadpan look, I said, “As much as I would worry about any of you losers. What are you getting?”

Scratching his chin, he looked thoughtful as he said, “I don’t know, sandwich maybe.”

“While you’re there, get him a Reuban,” I said, before handing him a twenty from my wallet. “No sauerkraut. He hates that. Some water too. Don’t tell him I bought it. It’s my fault that jackass did what he did to him yesterday.”

Ben stared at the bill in his hand. “You know, you shouldn’t pretend you don’t like him. Finn’s a good kid. Responds well to attaboys, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say all your prodding at him is to hide—”

“Ben. Enough,” I bit out, “just get that sandwich, I have a call to make.”

He held up his hands. “Whatever you say, boss. But for what it’s worth, what happened yesterday wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but that asshole. Just sayin’.”

~*~

Finn

By the time I was done for the night there weren’t many people walking through my department. Just the single glow of one lamp from some poor schmuck off in the corner. I glanced at my phone and groaned. Nearly nine. Standing, I stretched. I’d been sitting for so long that the muscles in my back were screaming obscenities at me. It was a wonder they’d not atrophied yet. To see me now no one would know I’d once been a high-ranking collegiate athlete. These late nights were killing me. I needed a drink.

No, I needed a vacation.

A long one.

In Hawaii.

No, Fiji. Sipping on a fruity cocktail sitting on the beach somewhere with my toes dug into the sand—

“Still here, Finneas?”

I rolled my eyes, immediately on edge. I could already feel my upper lip curling, but instead of laughing as Daniel normally did, he held the bridge of his nose in his hands. His eyes were closed. He didn’t look to be in the laughing mood at all, in fact, he seemed exhausted.

I’d thought he’d long since left. I glanced at his cubicle, it was dark but now that I was aware there was the soft glow of the computer screen on.

“Stress headache again?” I asked softly.

I doubted anyone else knew how often he had them since few of them stayed as long as Daniel and I often did. I wasn’t a team manager, but everyone knew I was gunning to be one and that meant long days, long hours, and mainlining coffee like it was my life's blood.

He shrugged. “Go home.”

That was his way of saying yes, but he didn’t want to talk about it. It was weird how well I understood his nonverbal cues at this point. We were public enemies but private frenemies. Though I’d die before ever admitting that part out loud.

“You first.”

He smirked and peeked at me from between his fingers. “You know, you’re a bossy chipmunk.”

I rolled my eyes, yanked my drawer open, pulled out a white bottle of Motrin, and tossed it at his head.

“Whoa,” he cried, snatching it up just before it cracked him upside his head. Peeking at it, a small, almost ghost-like grin flitted past his face before he said, “Didn’t know you liked me so much, Finny.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I might hate your guts, but I’d still rather have you work your load than hand it off to me because you called out sick. Again. Don’t take it on an empty stomach.”

Feeling like I’d done my good deed for the day, I swung my bag over my shoulder. My stomach growled. It’d been hours since Ben had given me that sandwich. It’d been thoughtful, but I owed him one. I hated feeling indebted to anyone.

Daniel’s lips pursed. “You eat today?”

Pretty sure he was mocking the noises my stomach was making. I shook my head. “Not that it’s any of your business but Ben was nice enough to buy me a sandwich.”

“Oh, did he?”

I bristled at his tone, wondering what in the hell he was getting at.

“Yeah, and it was delicious. Okay. He even held the sauerkraut, just the way I like it. Not that you’d know. Or care.”

He sniffed but didn’t say anything.

Just then my phone rang. Rory’s name flashed across the screen.

“Rory!” I said, sounding way too happy but mostly because I was happy to get away from that awkward conversation. With a shake of my phone and a nod toward Daniel, I quickly headed out, feeling his eyes boring into my back as I did.

I clicked the green icon.

“Where are you? I’m so booooored…” Rory said, sounding pleasantly drunk. She giggled, further confirming my suspicions.

I hopped into the open elevator. “Heading out. Finally! Where are you?”

“Some of my friends took me out to a bar, but I’m starving now. You wanna meet up for Indian?”

“Yes. Oh my god, yes. See you in about fifteen.”

Hailing a taxi, I headed toward Tikka Island, our favorite Indian spot. I collapsed into a chair at the bar the second I spotted her.

Rory was nearly as tall as Daniel. Almost six feet. She was an Amazon who flaunted it and never wore flats anywhere except our apartment. She wore a pair of gorgeous strappy white heels, jeans that were ripped from her knees up her thighs and exposed the tips of her pockets, and a white halter top and fitted black leather jacket. When she wasn’t working, she never wore makeup, but considering that her skin was a flawless ebony with zero imperfections she never needed it.

Pulling me into her chest she gave me a quick side hug. “Ordered us beers and butter chicken, hope that’s okay. Knowing you I figured you’d not eaten a thing all day.”

I chuckled. “Close. But Ben grabbed me a sandwich for lunch.”

“Ben, huh,” her eyes sparkled. “Soooo….”

“I told you already,” I chuckled. “He’s in a committed throuple.”

She shrugged and waggled her brows as she said, “What’s a throuple now can always turn into a quadrangle later.”

I laughed, sliding my bag over the back of my chair. A bartender pushed two beers at us. Taking a long swig, I sighed and said, “How ‘bout you just make an honest man of me already, Rory? I swear you know exactly what I want even before I do.”

“Aw, my widdle Finny,” she pinched my cheeks. “I love ya, but you couldn’t handle this.”

Ororo Monroe—named after her father’s favorite X-Men character. Rory to her friends, was the only person on Earth who could do that to me and get away with it. Mostly because I’d always had a semi-crush on her. Maybe not necessarily in a romantic way, but in every other way that mattered.

We’d met in college, and it was almost like meeting my soulmate. Not in the way that I’d heard it happened for Alphas and Omegas, but that was chemistry. Biology. Things completely out of my control. I’d chosen Rory and she’d chosen me.

Rory was a player, I knew that. Not that her romantic entanglements had ever bothered me. Because at the end of the day, she and I always returned to each other.

“You’re probably right. But Sam is lasting longer than the others.”

Her warm brown eyes twinkled, and she gave a little shrug. “I dunno. She’s special… maybe.” She snorted. “Not that it matters though, you know I don’t do long-distance anything.”

“She’s not that far.”

She shoulder-bumped me. “You call across the pond not that far? C’mon, Finn, you’re smarter than that.”

“You’re a world-renowned supermodel, you book a job in the UK, hop on a red eye, and get there. It’s that easy.”

Her white-painted thumbnail flicked at the label on her bottle. “You make it sound so easy.”

I shrugged. “And you make it sound so much harder than it has to be.”

She gave a light laugh, but I’d known Rory long enough to know that something I’d said had resonated deeply with her. Maybe Sam was more special than I’d imagined?

My heart trembled for just a second and I frowned as an ominous feeling washed through me at the thought of Rory finally settling down and this time not returning to me.

But then she cocked her head and flashed me that million-dollar smile that’d graced so many covers and I forgot all about those silly worries. She would never.