I’m lost in Vincent’s dark eyes, and for a moment I wonder if he recognizes me, too. He’s even more handsome than I remember. Maybe I was too stressed before to notice all the little things about him I find attractive, like how he has dimples when he smiles. 

Now that I’m not wearing a mask, I can smell his cologne. He smells good. 

For a moment he really does look radiant and sparkling and I feel my heart skip a beat.    

I’m still shaking his hand—just holding it really—and it’s only when he awkwardly clears his throat that I snatch my hand back. 

I’m blushing. I can feel the heat in my face. Embarrassment swells in my chest and I know that this moment is going to replay in my head for weeks, keeping me from falling asleep. 

“Sorry, sir,” I say, sounding almost breathless. I drop my gaze. I can’t bring myself to look at him again. 

He chuckles a little and sits behind his desk. I lift my stare enough to see him fold his hands on the surface, but I can’t raise it any further. I don’t want to risk meeting his eyes again. The way he looks at me makes me go stupid. 

“I told you, just ‘Vincent’ is fine. We’re all part of the same company, aren’t we?”

“Right… Vincent.” Saying it makes my lips tingle. 

Against my better judgement, I steal him a glance. It’s a mistake because it makes my heart throb again and I’m realizing in real time how problematic this is. He’s not just my boss, he’s the CEO of this massive, impressive company. I can’t have some sudden inappropriate crush on him. 

Besides, how old is he? I ask myself, trying to think of as many reasons as I can why I absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, like him. Whatever it is, he’s obviously too old for you, Micah. You can research him when you get home. I mean he’s probably married with three sweet kids. 

My gaze flicks to his fingers. No ring. 

He probably has a dog. Dogs hate vampires. Did you forget you’re a vampire? 

Another clearing of the throat makes me blink at Vincent and my blush deepens. I realize I’ve been standing there in silence having my internal dialogue for probably a humiliating long time. 

I can only pray I didn’t say any of it out loud. 

“I… Uh…” Words are suddenly impossible and the choked sounds leaving my throat as I try to remember how to form them just make the whole scene more unbearable. 

“Would you mind collecting my recycling for me?” Vincent offers, and I can tell he doesn’t say it in a pretentious way. He’s genuinely trying to remind me why I’m there, which is great because my mind has gone completely blank. All I can see in my brain is him smiling at me and it makes me feel like putty. 

“If- If it’s not a bother,” I say, miraculously remembering he was just on the phone.

“Not at all. I’d appreciate it.” His voice is so low and smooth it makes me melt. 

I step around his desk, bending over to collect the recycling bin under it. Just as I start dragging it out from where it’s tucked away, he says in a gravelly tone, “Thank you, Micah.” 

An image forms in my mind of lying in bed with Vincent, hearing him whisper that with his deep voice in my ear. My fingers slip and the bin falls sideways. Papers spill out and slide farther across the carpet than seems possible. 

“I’m so sorry!” I practically shout, dropping to my knees as I begin to collect the mess of papers. I find a staggering number of crushed, empty cans hiding under the papers; all energy drinks. It reminds me of when he rescued me at the pharmacy and how he’d been carrying a bag of them. 

Did he already drink them all? That can’t be healthy. 

Good Micah, another fault. Keep going. 

All the revelation makes me feel is the want to bring him something more nutritious. But what do I really know about nutrients? I’m a vampire. 

I have to keep reminding myself of the fact. I’m a vampire. I’m a vampire. I’m a VAMPIRE! I shout it inside my mind to snap myself out of this stupid rosy haze. I can’t like him. It’s too complicated. It’s dangerous. I don’t even know him.  

As I’m collecting the papers and cans, I see his chair swivel and his hand darts down to help me. I’m distracted and don’t notice that we’re both reaching for the same can until my hand knocks into his and I grab his hand instead. 

His hand is so much bigger than mine; his skin is warm and dry. I think about when his arm was wrapped around me and when he’d caught me before I’d left the pharmacy. I feel his veins popping and his long, strong fingers… My fantasies take over and I imagine his hands on me, everywhere. 

I’m about to die of embarrassment. 

I let go of him and snatch my hand back as he straightens in his chair. He’s chuckling as he says, “Oops, sorry.”

It’s hardly something worth a mere ‘oops’ to me. My life is flashing before my eyes as my anxiety ramps up to an all time high. 

I blink up at him to apologize again and my jaw goes slack as I realize I’m kneeling between his splayed legs. He looks down at me with what I can only interpret as a sultry gaze, though it’s probably more a look of curiosity as he quirks a brow. 

His aura is dominant and intimidating, but I can’t steer my thoughts away from the gutter. 

Don’t stare at his dick. Don’t stare at his dick. Don’t stare at his… 

My eyes flick to his crotch and my little brain implodes. Fuck. 

Part of me wishes he’ll fire me on the spot to put me out of my misery, the other part hopes he—by some miracle—didn’t notice me blatantly staring between his legs, so we can pretend this meeting never happened and I can do better tomorrow. 

I have to swallow my pitiful whimper as I finish cleaning up the mess. I stand and clutch the recycling bin to my chest like it’s a comfort object as I say, “Sorry for the disturbance. It’s my first day.” Like somehow that will excuse the fact I was just an absolute klutz and a weirdo, holding his hand and staring at his bulge like a pervert. 

Sure, I’m into him. He’s undeniably attractive, not to mention he’s been nothing but nice to me in every situation we’ve been in. But I’m not kidding myself. He’s off-limits and I need to do everything in my power to remind myself of that. 

Vincent leans his jaw on his hand, elbow propped up on his desk. He stares at me for what feels like a long moment before he asks, “Do I make you nervous?”

The way he says it sounds flirtatious, but maybe I’m just imagining things. That actually seems to be all I’m capable of doing, imagining inappropriate situations with my boss’s boss. I open my mouth to try and come up with some response, but he cuts me off, interjecting, “It’s just… You seem very familiar. Have we met?”

“No! No, we haven’t. I don’t think so!” I say, avoiding eye-contact as I turn to take the recycling to the cart that’s just outside in the hall. I can’t seem to stride fast enough. I wish my legs were longer so I could walk faster. 

I dump the recycling out into the large bag hanging off the cart and try to remember that I’m here to do a job I would very much like to keep. 

Turning around to put the bin back under the desk, I jump as I find Vincent standing right behind me in the doorway to his office. He has his arms crossed over his chest, making the buttons of his shirt strain and the fabric stretch. God he’s jacked. He must work out—

Catching myself, I try to bury the thought and just meet his gaze like a normal person. 

He’s staring down at me with scrutiny. “You’re sure we’ve never met?” he asks again. His dark eyes narrow on me. 

I’m a terrible liar. My emotions are always plastered across my face. For a brief second, I think about telling him the truth: that yes, it’s me, the idiot dorky vampire he rescued from tripping at the pharmacy… But I can’t. I don’t want to risk ruining this, which might sound stupid after my spectacular display of ineptitude, but it’s true. 

I want this job. I want to start a life where I can be perceived as ‘normal’. If I out myself as a vampire immediately after moving here, what would be the point? Maybe Vincent would be nice, he seemed nice at the pharmacy, but what about Sam? What about the other people at the company? What if they look into my past and find out—?

“I’m sure,” I say. For the first time, I sound calm… I sound honest, even though I couldn’t be a bigger liar. I keep my gaze locked on his, and I lie again, right to his face, as I say convincingly, “I know I would have remembered meeting you.” Then I smile. I can feel it’s a sad smile, because it hurts to lie. It hurts to hate myself this much; so much that I can’t even thank him and tell him he saved me. 

But I do hate myself. And, even though we’re strangers, I don’t want him to hate me, too. 

There’s a chime and the sound of elevator doors opening before I hear footsteps down the hall. Then Sam’s familiar voice says, “Oh good! Micah, there you are.” 

I peer over my shoulder to see she’s walking toward us comfortably, lifting her hand in a small wave as she says, “Mr. Sharpe! I figured you’d be working late as usual. I’m glad you had a chance to meet the newest member of our team!”

Vincent breaks my gaze as he looks at Sam. He drops his hands and shoves them into his pant pockets, giving her a grin as he replies, “Indeed, I have. Micah was just taking my recycling.”

“No trouble with that I hope,” Sam says with a laugh, coming to stand beside me. I know she means it as a joke—like who could have trouble taking out a small office recycling bin—but it stings as I relive the trauma of fucking up so badly. With the hot CEO no less. 

My brow furrows with worry as I glance up at Vincent, wondering if he’ll give me away and tell Sam about all my stupid mistakes. Maybe he’ll mock me, too. He probably wouldn’t think twice about it—just a friendly jab to break the ice. 

“Not at all. I’m sure Micah will settle in nicely. If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to finish.” Vincent’s dark eyes flick back to me and he adds nonchalantly, “Nice to meet you, Micah.” He winks and returns to his office, closing his door with a soft snap. 

I feel stunned. I’m left staring after him at the door, looking up at the plaque with his name on it. I can hear his deep muffled voice on the other side, probably on the phone again. 

There’s an ache of disappointment in me, not that I was really expecting anything. But every minute interaction had been an explosion in my mind, and now I know it really didn’t mean anything to him. He was just being nice. He was probably just being nice at the pharmacy, too. 

It didn’t mean anything. And it shouldn’t mean anything to me either. 

I’m just the janitor. A stranger. Nobody. 

“Oh! You’ve still got his recycling bin!” Sam’s cheerful voice snaps me out of my stupor and I look down to see she’s right. I’m practically cradling the empty bin to my chest, hugging it like I’m in need of support. 

“Ah, you’re right,” I say, trying to lighten my tone. I don’t look at her; I don’t want her to see through my facade and ask me what’s wrong. I wouldn’t know what to say. I already feel drained for having to lie once, I don’t want to do it again. 

Thankfully, Sam says, “Sounds like he’s on the phone. Just leave it outside his door. He’ll get it later.”

I put the bin down softly and steady myself so I can smile up at Sam. “Where to next?” I ask. There’s still about twenty minutes left in my shift. 

She pulls out her phone and looks at the digital clock. “You made good time! Now we basically just make sure all the trash and recycling are disposed of properly. We should also take inventory of what you used and what we’ll need to restock, if anything. I’ll show you, come on.” She gestures down the hall and I imagine we’re heading back to the janitor’s office.

I push the cart alongside her, saying, “Sounds good! Thanks for all your help.” I mean it, I’m grateful to her. 

Beaming at me she says, “I’m sure tomorrow will be easier. I’ll just check in with you from time to time. You did great today! It’s nice you got to meet Mr. Sharpe. I’m sure you’ll get to know him better, he always stays late.”

Praying my blush isn’t noticeable, I reply with a neutral, “He seems nice.” I can’t help notice how she still calls him ‘Mr. Sharpe’ instead of Vincent. I make a mental note to do that, too, despite what he said. It will be good for me to put up that boundary. I can’t let myself fall any harder for him or it will be impossible to work here.   

We stop in front of the elevator and Sam pushes the call button. “He is! He’s a really good guy. Between you and me, I’m surprised he’s still single, but I guess he’s married to the job.”

The elevator dings and the doors open. Sam sticks her arm out to make sure they don’t close on me as I pull the cart in. 

My heart is racing again, my face is burning.     

The words “he’s still single” are all I can focus on. 

As the elevator closes and we descend to the floor below, every instance with Vincent replays in my mind. 

I have a terrible feeling that letting go of this crush might be easier said than done… 

Yeah. I’m totally screwed.