Mendes did call Jensen’s name as he hustled to the stairs and blew through the heavy fire door without a backward glance. His heart pounded in time with his feet hitting the steps that would take him out of the glass prison.
The stairwell spit out directly into the parking garage, where he fast walked in the humid air until he reached his trusty sedan. He threw himself into the seat, elbow smacking the center console as he flailed around and locked the door behind him. Then he hit the lock button two more times just in case.
That had been a shit show. A certified, multiact shit show that could have premiered at the Razzies. Jesus. Jensen hadn’t freaked out that bad in public since grade school, and this time he couldn’t even blame puberty hormones and purposefully broken dioramas. Though, even he could admit this outburst had been a long time coming. Sure, it had been unprofessional and a bit of an overreaction in the moment. But it had been born from years of broken promises and slights and being treated like a child who wouldn’t stand up for himself. Because he hadn’t stood up for himself until now.
Adrenaline was slowly draining from his system, leaving him tired but also relieved. He was out of the office, at least for the rest of the weekend. He didn’t even have his laptop, so there was no reason to think about work. The only thing he planned to do was call Daniel, vent about his day, and listen to his boyfriend talk while he drove home. Maybe he would pour himself a glass of wine and take a bath. Or turn on a show or try taming the bushes in his front yard.
Or he could just talk to Daniel until bedtime.
Of course he chose the last option. After putting on his seat belt, he tugged his phone out of his pocket, ready to give Daniel a dramatic reenactment of him maybe losing his job. But the notification lighting up his screen stopped him. It was a missed call and voicemail from Eric Larsson.
Elation soared through his body so fast he became lightheaded. Was this karma working double time? Did finally standing up to his boss and calling him out for his continued lies open the floodgates for other good things to happen? He couldn’t possibly wait until he was home to find out, even if it meant pushing off his conversation with Daniel.
He quickly typed in his password and clicked on the voicemail, then sat back with his eyes closed, ready for his life to change. Ready to storm back into the office and tell Mendes he quit. Ready to pack up his house and start over in Sevier.
“Hey, Jensen, it’s Eric Larsson giving you a call back. Sorry it’s taken me so long, you know how it goes. Listen, we loved the work you sent over, the client went crazy for the ideas you suggested. We hoped this initial project would kick off a ton more, but there just isn’t the demand right now for the firm to justify a position. And between you and me, our quarterly forecast reports just came in, and they’re lower than I had hoped. If I could offer you something, I would in a heartbeat. But hey, if anything changes, you’ll be the first person I call. It was good to hear from you, Jensen. Take care of yourself.”
The ending click of the message punched Jensen in the chest, forcing the air and hope from his chest.
Jensen threw the phone on the passenger seat. Heat overtook his body, and he slapped his hand against the steering wheel, the threaded leather cutting into his palm as he grasped it with white knuckles. On his next exhale, the anger left him and was replaced with the sicklier feeling of defeat.
Everything seemed to be slipping through his fingers. His relationship with his boss was becoming more strenuous, made worse by his embarrassing outburst, and there was no way he’d be getting any concessions from the man. Daniel was back in Sevier, trying his best to not worry about money, and there wasnothing Jensen could do to help him. He couldn’t even hold him and offer reassurances while he voiced his fears.
And the last thing holding Jensen together had been the hope Larsson would offer him a job in Sevier so he could uproot his entire life, bulldoze all his safety nets and comfortable places so he could, what? Move in with a man he barely knew in the grand scheme of life? Go through the horrific process of selling the home he’d carved out for himself and buy another property that would be all white walls and harsh angles? Be so far away from his mother’s rich tomato sauce and soft noodles and endless patience and warm hugs?
Jensen had really thought for a moment that he could be a brave man that took risks and forced the world to part for him. But that wasn’t him. That would never be him. He would always be small and misshapen. He would always be forced into boxes and roles by men with more power than him, and the only way he was going to survive the world was to accept that.
It was becoming more and more clear that he couldn’t have the dream job and the dream man. At most, he could have a job that paid him to do things he was good at and a long-distance relationship with a person that was so out of his league that he should be grateful to hold his attention for even a few months—which he certainly was.
He knew he was privileged for having steady employment and a close family and an incredible boyfriend. How could he ask for more? It was insulting that he had tried, really, when so many people had such worse lives.
Jensen would swallow down the disappointment of not getting everything he wanted. He would stop trying to ask for more than he deserved. The hand he was dealt in life was okay. It was fine. He wasn’t going to cry about his dreams being so tangible for once in his life just to be slapped out of his handslike the thick books he liked to read while walking down the halls in school.
It was fine.
He didn’t even want to leave the home he’d spent a decade decorating and lovingly working on. That would be silly, and Jensen had grown out of silly notions many years ago.
With a shaking hand, he slotted the key into his ignition and turned on the car.
18
It wasthe first Friday night everyone was home in at least three months. Daniel worked every weekend, unless he was too sick. Arlo often went out for after-work drinks with coworkers or put in some hours cleaning a house. Brody played poker with his dad at least one Friday a month, and Casey did whatever Casey did.
But tonight, they had a full house. At least for a while. Casey had his feet kicked up on the coffee table while he scrolled on his phone, waiting until he had to leave for some event. Daniel’s other two roommates played a game that seemed to be set in a medieval fantasy world, but Arlo’s character was running around with cat ears and dressed entirely in pink. The muscled man Brody played was completely naked, his dick swinging with every lash of his sword. It was a nice dick, all pixels considered.
“I don’t want to go to this event alone,” Casey complained, covering the sounds of grunts and splashing blood coming from the large television. “You all should come with me.”
“You aren’t going alone. Your entire studio will be there,” Brody said.
Arlo rubbed his forehead with the overly long sleeve of the black sweater he was wearing before going back to mashing buttons. “What’s the event for?”
“It’s just the studio’s birthday party. They host a little get-together every year, and every year, I’m like the only person that doesn’t bring anyone with me.”
“You could open any app right now and have a dozen or more dates by the time you have to leave.”
“Yeah, and they’d ditch me the moment we got there. I tried that once, and they kept trying to instigate an orgy and had to be thrown out.”
The room collectively grimaced. While their jobs were incredibly different from one another’s, they all knew how some people got when they were drunk and horny. Suddenly, common sense and basic human decency became too much too handle. Daniel had had a few of those moments himself back in college, but he’d grown up and learned how to read a room. Some people never did.
