Page 17 of Ember

I headed over to West’s cubicle. A couple of people nodded hellos, and I gave them quick smiles. I was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and that combined with my red hair made me stick out like a sore thumb.

West wasn’t at his desk, but catty-corner to his desk was Greg, a mutual work friend of ours. Greg saw me and brightened.

“Ember! I didn’t know you were coming in today.” He stood up and leaned over the half wall.

“Stopping by for lunch,” I said, lifting the black lunch box. I really should get West a cooler lunch box. Or maybe I’d get him something ridiculous, with pink and glitter and fluffy kittens.

I grinned. He’d carry it to work too, knowing how amused it would make me.

“West is in a meeting, but he’ll be out soon.” Greg gestured at his own computer. “Come check this out.”

I walked around West’s desk to Greg’s portion. Greg was a portly beta man, about my age, with thick, messy brown hair and glasses. He wore a white button-up shirt, dress slacks, and a tie with anime characters on it.

“Sit, sit.” Greg gestured for me to sit in his chair.

Hackles raised, I sat. I really didn’t want to marinate in his scent, but Greg was oblivious to personal space.

“Here.” Greg leaned over me to pick up his headphones and put them on my head, his musky patchouli scent making my eyes water.

I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. Greg was socially awkward, reading cues a second too late. He waspartially the stereotypical nerd grown up to become slightly angry and bitter about the world’s view of him, but he was also smart and could be charming when talking about topics that interested him.

West and I went out and got drinks with him and some of our other coworkers occasionally, but I never knew what sort of mood Greg would be in.

Sometimes he was the life of the party and considerate, like the time he made sure everyone got home safe during the ice storm last year. Other times he would complain about how all the pretty girls never wanted to dance with him.

He’d asked me out the first day we met. I’d told him I didn’t like to date people I didn’t know. A month later, almost to the day, Greg asked me out again since I knew him better.

I’d told him no again, and he seemed to take it gracefully. But ever since he flipped between showing me how awesome he was to low-key being resentful.

It was exhausting, and I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth for Greg today.

“What am I…” I looked at his computer. Code strung along the screen in complicated patterns. Greg was a computer whiz, and I could usually steer him out of his pissy moods by asking him about his latest project.

Greg hit play, and music shredded my eardrums. I yelped and yanked the headphones off. “Too loud, oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Greg leaned over me again, his arm almost but not quite touching my breasts to get to the mouse, and I scooted back. “That’s better. Try now.”

I put the headphones on again, trying not to wince at the overwhelming scent of patchouli and rosemary. The rosemary smelled almost soapy, and I didn’t like it with the musky, too-sweet smell of patchouli. It reminded me of New Age shopswhere the store owner never bothered to shower and burned too much incense.

The song started again, the beat coming through clearly. It was a mash-up of Juliet Vale’s two newest songs. Someone had layered her slow, heartbreaking ballad “Unfinished Goodbye” over the eerie background track ofHorrors Untold, a hit horror TV show that focused on pop culture as much as it did the horrific trans-dimensional creatures that broke through.

I gave Greg a thumbs-up. I wanted to listen to the entire thing, but not while Greg was standing over me, basically breathing down my neck.

I pulled the headphones off. “That’s a great mash-up.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Greg sounded smug. “We were talking about doing a movie night soon, so maybe we can doHorrors Untoldand have a listening party.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but that sounds fun. We should see when Sabrina and Jace are free too.”

“We can do it my house. I just had this really sweet home theater built.”

“We’ll talk about it,” I replied, standing up. I couldn’t say yes and then change plans later. Greg was the sort of person who took one offhand “yes” as a contract signed in blood.

I looked around for West. Damn it, my omega had horrible timing.

“You brought West lunch? That’s so sweet. We can put it in the break room.” Greg gestured to the left, and I bit back a snarky reply that I knew where the break room was. I followed down the short hallway to the room in question.

The breakroom had a microwave, fridge, and full-size table and chairs. It was normally a great place to hang out.

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