Page 224 of Worthy

“So why not experiment?”

He sighs, then runs a finger down the empty glass. “Right, because that’s so easy.”

“It is. There are dating apps, clubs. If we’re being honest, you could walk into any gay club right now and I bet you’d leave with someone.” The thought makes my stomach sour but I push it away. I have no right feeling that way over him.

“What makes you say that?” His voice holds humor like he doesn’t believe me and I’m just left reeling because hello? He’s sex on legs.

“You’re hot, Owen. I think you could easily find someone.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Sure. I’m nice to look at.”

I snort, shaking my head. “You’re way more than nice to look at. That face, your clothes, how you carry yourself. Hell, even the sound of your voice. You’re a total fantasy.” Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I open my mouth to apologize but stop when I take in the heated look in his eyes.

“You think so?” His voice is a tad husky and I bite my lip.I bet that’s what he sounds like before he comes.

NO!

“Of course.” I clear my throat and then give him a smile. “You’re a catch. Anyone can see that. You just need to get yourself out there more.” I finish the rest of my drink, trying to avoid his gaze. The air around us is suddenly filled with tension. We don’t say anything for several moments and I’m about to say my good nights when his words meet my ears.

“Why don’t you help me?” I blink, eyes flying to him. Surely he doesn’t mean… “You can teach me.” Yep, that’s what he means.

My breath hitches as I look at him. I want to say yes. Hell, the words almost burst from me before I have a chance to think it all over. Thankfully, my rationality is still here despite the few drinks I’ve had and I do the right thing. “Owen, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, a lot of reasons. You’re my boss and…” I trail off, not wanting to get too much into my dreaded past. I can overlook him being my boss, I think that’d be easy, but my problem lies with an ex.

Owen looks crestfallen as he drags a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have even asked. I just… Shit, I’m sorry. Forget about that. I’ll figure it out.”

I’m warring with myself. Obviously, I’d love to have sex with Owen, any hot-blooded, gay male would. My hang-ups stem from a lot more than him being my boss. “Listen,”—I reach out, giving his hand a squeeze—“it’s getting late. Why don’t we shelf this for tonight? We can go home, sleep, and discuss it tomorrow when we’re both clearheaded.”

He nods, refusing to meet my gaze as the waiter comes and drops off his drink. He pulls out a wad of cash, passing it to her before tipping back the scotch. I watch as he finishes it, then he gives me a passive look.

“It’s fine. Really, that wasn’t a good idea. I never should have said it. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or if I put you in a weird spot. This is my problem, not yours. I’ll figure it out. Seriously. I appreciate you being as understanding about all of this as you have been. Please don’t hold this against me as your boss. You’re a great employee. I don’t want to ruin our working relationship over this. We’ll just let it go. Tomorrow, business as usual?” He’s talking rapidly but yet so professionally and I can’t help but feel bad.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset or anything,” I say gently.

I’ve known I was gay since I sat next to Timothy Richards on the first day of second grade because I liked the color of his eyes. I may not have understood the term gay, but I understood that I liked boys. So to be questioning yourself at almost thirty, that has to be difficult.

“Thanks.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Do you have a way home? You didn’t drink too much, did you? I can order you a Lift.”

I wave him off. It’s late. Any drinks I’ve had are well within the limit. “I’m good. Thank you though.” We stand, then I follow him out the door.

The walk to the parking garage is tense and a little awkward, and when Owen wishes me good night at my car, the realization that I just turned down my every fantasy comes crashing down over me. The whole way home my mind’s going back and forth over the pros and cons list. The reasons why this could be a very good idea and the reasons why thisisa very bad idea.

I’m still thinking about it once I enter my apartment, I think about it when I’m in the shower, I think about it when I lay down for bed, and in the morning, when I wake up, it’s still there lingering in the background.

“Fuck it,” I mutter to the empty room. “What’s the worst that can happen? It’s just sex, after all.”

But even as I say the words, deep down, I already know I’m screwed.

***

An hour later, I’m walking into the office, determination settling over me. I toss my stuff on my desk, grab my tablet from my bag, and head to Owen’s office. He looks up at me, surprise evident across his face. I don’t know if it’s because he thought I wouldn’t show up or if it’s because I’m almost thirty minutes early. Either way, he’s on a call when I walk in and I don’t interrupt, just sit across from him and wait til he’s done.

Five minutes later he hangs up the call and gives me a small smile. “Sorry about that. You’re early.”

I have a whole speech prepared. I practiced it the whole way here. The rules we would follow and how this was going to go. So tell me why when I open my mouth the words spewing from it aren’t what I had planned. “Let’s have sex.”

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