Nothing Left to Hide Pt 11

Monday morning began with an email.

I was standing naked in the kitchen drinking coffee when my phone buzzed on the counter.

Kelly was equally naked at the table eating toast. Megan, who actually had to dress like a normal member of society for work, was leaning against the counter fastening an earring.

I picked up my phone.

The subject line read:

RE: Interim Dress Requirements -- Legal Review Complete

"Oh shit."

Kelly stopped chewing.

"What?"

"Legal."

Megan immediately abandoned her earring.

"What about Legal?"

I opened the email.

Then read it again.

Kelly lowered her toast.

"Blake?"

"I think they killed the pouch."

There was silence.

Megan's face lit up.

"No."

Kelly got out of her chair.

"Give me that."

She took the phone from my hand and read.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God."

"What?" Megan demanded.

Kelly read aloud.

"Following review of the company's existing dress and appearance policies, Legal has determined that the current written policy does not expressly establish a minimum clothing requirement for employees in general office areas."

Megan started laughing.

Kelly kept reading.

"Accordingly, the interim coverage requirements previously implemented for affected employees are rescinded pending any future policy revision applicable to employees generally."

She lowered the phone.

"The thong is dead."

I raised my coffee.

"The pouch is dead."

Megan put a hand over her heart.

"Thank you for your service."

"Fuck you."

"We should shadow-box it."

"No."

"Little plaque."

"No."

Kelly was laughing.

"Blake Mercer's Dick Potholder. Served with distinction."

"I hate both of you."

Legal hadn't exactly endorsed workplace nudity. The rest of the email made that abundantly clear. Professional conduct rules still applied. Towels or washable barriers were required on shared seating. Sanitation rules remained in effect anywhere food was prepared. Safety requirements still applied, including closed-toe shoes in stock and receiving areas.

But Legal had apparently decided that inventing special genital-covering requirements for two employees when the written policy didn't actually require clothing was more trouble than simply letting the existing policy stand.

Which meant that Monday morning, Kelly and I drove to work naked.

Again.

Completely.

It shouldn't have felt different.

We'd done it before.

But after weeks of the ridiculous pouch and Kelly's tiny black thong, stepping out of the car with absolutely nothing between us and the morning air felt strangely exposed all over again.

Kelly shut her door.

"This feels weird."

"You've been naked at work before."

"So have you."

"I know."

"Then why does it feel weird?"

"Because Legal officially knows we're doing it now."

She considered that.

"That's actually worse."

Darren was walking toward the building when he saw us.

He stopped.

Looked at Kelly.

Looked at me.

Looked down.

Then back up.

"The pouch is gone."

"Legal killed it."

He looked at Kelly.

"And the thong?"

"Also dead."

Darren closed his eyes.

"I hadn't even had coffee yet."

Kelly smiled.

"Good morning."

He started walking again.

Then stopped.

"Wait. Did you two come in the same car?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because we live together."

He stared.

"You live together?"

"With Megan."

Another pause.

"All three of you?"

"Yes."

His eyes narrowed.

"Are you all naked at home too?"

"Mostly."

Darren immediately shook his head.

"Why would you tell me that?"

"You asked."

"I need to stop doing that."

Rebecca called us into HR before nine.

She looked tired already.

"The interim coverage requirement is gone."

"We saw."

"I assumed you had."

Her eyes stayed very deliberately above our shoulders.

"Legal's position is that our current written policy does not contain a minimum clothing requirement. They are not comfortable enforcing a selective interim requirement against only the two of you."

Kelly nodded.

"Okay."

"That does not mean there are no rules."

"Understood."

"Towels or washable barriers on shared seating."

"Yep."

"Sanitation requirements around food preparation."

"Yep."

"Closed-toe shoes in stock or receiving."

"Yep."

"Professional conduct remains professional conduct."

I nodded.

Rebecca looked at both of us.

"And customers are allowed to be uncomfortable."

Kelly's expression changed slightly.

Rebecca continued.

"That doesn't mean you're violating policy. It means two things can be true at once. You're permitted to work this way under the current policy, and some people may find it unusual."

"Fair."

Rebecca looked down at the legal memo.

"My favorite sentence is that the existing dress policy 'did not contemplate employees voluntarily reporting to work without clothing.'"

Kelly smiled.

"I'm proud of us."

"Please don't be."

The first customer of the morning was an older woman who didn't react at all.

The second was a guy about our age who walked up to Kelly's station, saw her, immediately looked at the ceiling, and conducted the entire transaction as if there were something fascinating in the fluorescent lights.

His voice cracked twice.

Kelly waited until he left.

Then she looked at me.

"That was painful."

"He survived."

"Barely."

The air-conditioning kicked on.

Kelly shivered.

Goosebumps appeared across her arms.

Her nipples tightened almost immediately.

Darren looked up, saw her rubbing her arms and pointed at the thermostat.

"No."

"I didn't say anything."

"You're thinking it."

"I'm cold."

"We are not having another temperature-versus-anatomy conversation."

I laughed.

Kelly looked at me.

"You think this is funny?"

"Little bit."

"Wait five minutes."

I stopped laughing.

She smiled.

"Exactly."

⸻

The supply room got me.

Kelly was reaching for a box of printer paper on the top shelf.

She couldn't quite get it.

"Move."

"I've got it."

"You don't."

"I almost have it."

"You're five-four."

"Five-five."

"Move."

She stepped aside just enough for me to reach over her.

My chest brushed her shoulder.

Her back touched me.

Neither of us moved immediately.

It wasn't dramatic.

That was what made it worse.

Warm skin.

Her hair against my chin.

The faint smell of her shampoo.

I reached for the box.

My body reacted before my brain could file an objection.

Kelly felt me shift behind her.

She turned her head.

Then looked down.

"Oh."

"Don't."

She smiled.

"I'm not saying anything."

"Good."

"It doesn't bother me."

"Kelly."

"I'm serious."

I got the paper down.

She turned around.

"You don't have to be embarrassed every time your body reacts to me."

"That's easy for you to say."

"Why?"

"Because yours is less obvious."

She considered that.

"Fair."

The door opened.

Darren stepped inside.

Saw us standing much too close together.

Saw me.

Closed his eyes.

"Nope."

"We're getting paper," Kelly said.

"Of course you are."

He backed out.

The door shut.

Kelly started laughing.

I put the box into her arms.

"Go away."

⸻

At lunch Darren finally asked the question he'd apparently been sitting on all morning.

"So what's the deal with the three of you?"

Kelly looked at him.

"What deal?"

"You live together."

"Yes."

"Naked."

"Mostly."

He looked at me.

"And you and Megan?"

"Together."

He looked at Kelly.

"And you two?"

Kelly glanced at me.

"We're figuring it out."

Darren stared at us for a moment.

Then nodded.

"Okay."

That surprised me.

"That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know."

"It's none of my business."

Kelly pointed at him.

"That's unexpectedly mature."

"Fuck you."

⸻

Tuesday morning, Kelly and I were waiting for the elevator when I caught myself staring at her ass.

She looked over her shoulder.

"Enjoying yourself?"

I didn't bother pretending.

"Yep."

She turned around.

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing. Honesty is easier."

"Apparently."

"What were you thinking?"

"I'm not answering that."

"Why?"

"Because honesty has limits."

The elevator opened.

Mr. Henderson was inside.

He looked at Kelly.

Then me.

"Morning."

"Morning."

He didn't blink.

By this point, our seventy-year-old neighbor was apparently the most psychologically adaptable person in the building.

At work, a delivery driver arrived around ten.

He came through the door carrying two boxes, saw Kelly, saw me, hesitated for perhaps half a second and then recovered.

"Delivery."

"That's usually what the boxes mean," Kelly said.

He laughed.

To his credit, he was respectful.

After I signed, he hesitated.

"Can I ask something?"

Kelly smiled.

"Depends."

"Is this like a company thing?"

"No."

He looked genuinely curious rather than creepy.

"I'd be terrified."

"The first day sucked," Kelly said.

"People stare?"

"Yeah."

"Does that bother you?"

She thought about it.

"Less than it used to."

After he left, Kelly looked at me.

"Do you count?"

"Count what?"

"How many people look at me."

I hesitated.

"Sometimes."

Her eyebrows rose.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Jealous?"

"Maybe."

"Protective?"

"Maybe."

She smiled.

"You know I don't need protecting."

"I know."

That answer seemed to matter.

Later, she rolled her chair over to my desk to look at a spreadsheet.

Her bare thigh pressed against mine.

Her shoulder touched my shoulder.

Neither of us moved.

I became acutely aware of every place we were touching.

Apparently so did she.

My body responded.

Kelly looked down.

Then at me.

"Seriously?"

"Don't."

"I'm not making fun of you."

"You're smiling."

"I find it flattering."

"You forgot the spreadsheet."

She looked at the monitor.

"Oh."

"Exactly."

She started laughing.

Her chair rolled backward.

Straight into Darren.

He looked at her.

Then at me.

Then down.

"Spreadsheet?"

"Spreadsheet," Kelly said.

"Of course."

At lunch Kelly asked, "Does this happen with Megan?"

Darren immediately started getting up.

"Sit down," I said.

"No."

Kelly laughed.

"I'm asking a legitimate question."

Darren pointed at us.

"Nothing you've discussed this week has made me want to remain at this table."

Kelly ignored him.

"More than with me?"

I shook my head.

"Nope."

"What?"

"I'm not doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Scorekeeping."

Her expression changed.

I continued.

"Megan asked me not to compare you two. I'm not doing it."

Kelly nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"You're you. She's Megan."

"Fair."

Darren sat back down.

"What did I miss?"

"Emotional maturity," Kelly said.

"Thank God."

⸻

Then the fire alarm went off.

Burned popcorn.

We didn't know that yet.

All we knew was the alarm started screaming and Rebecca came around the corner yelling:

"Everybody out!"

Kelly looked at me.

I looked at Kelly.

"Oh no."

Darren started laughing.

"Outside."

"It's cold," Kelly said.

"Fire alarm."

"We're naked."

"FIRE ALARM."

Two minutes later the entire office was standing in the parking lot.

Fully clothed employees.

Two completely naked employees.

Wind.

Traffic.

And dignity leaving my body faster than heat.

Kelly folded her arms across herself.

"Fuck."

"You okay?"

"No."

A gust hit us.

She shivered.

I experienced the exact opposite of every erection problem I'd had all week.

Kelly looked down.

Then at me.

"Wow."

"Don't."

"Significant shrinkage."

"Kelly."

"I believe the record should reflect significant shrinkage."

A car slowed down.

Darren stepped toward the curb.

"KEEP MOVING."

Kelly started laughing.

Another car slowed.

"IT'S A FIRE DRILL."

"You're a naked crossing guard," Kelly said.

"I am wearing clothes!"

"Emotionally naked."

"What does that even mean?"

Eventually we learned someone had murdered a bag of popcorn.

The culprit apologized.

Darren revoked his microwave privileges.

Back inside, Kelly stood under a vent.

"I can't feel my nipples."

Darren didn't look up.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

She turned to me.

"Recovered?"

"Stop monitoring me."

"Just checking."

Then she got serious.

"Are we playing with fire?"

I knew immediately she wasn't talking about popcorn.

"Probably."

She looked toward Darren.

He was across the room.

"Megan."

"Yeah."

"I really like her."

"I know."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"I know."

Kelly looked at me.

"But I don't want to pretend I don't want you either."

"You don't have to."

Her eyes held mine.

"Neither do you."

"No."

Darren appeared carrying folders.

"Whatever this is, do it after you finish these."

Kelly took them.

"Thank you, Dad."

"You're welcome."

At the end of the day, she stopped beside my desk.

"I'm glad we came back."

"Why?"

"I needed to know."

"Know what?"

"That this wasn't just the apartment."

I looked at her.

"No."

She nodded.

"It's not just the apartment."

⸻

Wednesday brought rain.

Cold, sideways rain.

Kelly slammed the car door.

"RUN."

"I'm not running."

"WHY?"

"Because we're naked and the pavement is wet."

Another gust hit.

"FUCK!"

She ran.

I followed.

We burst through the employee entrance dripping wet.

Darren was beside the copier.

"Good morning."

Kelly's teeth chattered.

"Fuck you."

"Rough commute?"

"Naked fifty-eight degrees is forty."

I handed her a towel.

She rubbed her arms furiously.

Darren looked at me.

Then down.

Then up.

I pointed.

"Not one word."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

Kelly looked.

Then laughed.

"Really?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No."

The heater kicked on.

Kelly closed her eyes.

"Oh, thank God."

I watched the goosebumps slowly fade from her skin.

She opened one eye.

"You're staring."

"You're shivering."

"That's not a defense."

"I wasn't defending myself."

She smiled.

"I like Wednesday Blake."

"Wednesday Blake is freezing."

"Wednesday Kelly is too."

"Put some clothes on."

Her mouth fell open.

"Absolutely not."

"Then stop complaining."

Darren yelled from across the office:

"THEY'RE REALLY NOT UNRELATED."

⸻

At nine-forty, a regional manager arrived with two supervisors.

Nobody had warned them.

Rebecca intercepted them.

"Before we go back..."

Too late.

One supervisor saw Kelly.

The other saw me.

The regional manager looked at Rebecca.

Rebecca took a breath.

"There's been a legal review."

He looked at me again.

"I can see that."

Kelly turned away.

Rebecca continued.

"Our written dress policy contained an ambiguity."

The regional manager looked at Kelly.

Then me.

"That's an impressive ambiguity."

Kelly made a choking sound.

One supervisor raised his hand.

"Are we allowed to ask questions?"

"Policy questions."

He lowered his hand.

"That eliminated most of mine."

Even Rebecca laughed.

The tour eventually reached the stockroom.

Which meant shoes.

Kelly sat on the bench tying hers.

I stood beside her.

She looked up.

"I can't."

"What?"

"You look like you're about to mow the lawn in a nudist colony."

"You're wearing exactly the same amount of clothing."

"Mine are cuter."

"They're black work shoes."

"Exactly."

The regional manager entered.

Looked at us.

Then Rebecca.

"Closed-toe requirement?"

"Safety policy."

"Good."

He walked away.

Kelly whispered:

"He almost broke."

"Almost."

"We're getting to him."

"This isn't a competition."

"It is now."

⸻

Wednesday afternoon brought a ladder.

Kelly dragged over the small step ladder to reach a binder.

"No."

She looked at me.

"What?"

"You're not climbing that."

"Excuse me?"

"It's wobbly."

"It's three steps."

She climbed.

It shifted.

I grabbed it.

She looked down.

"Fine."

"Thank you."

She climbed higher.

"Can you move it left?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you're on it."

She stretched.

From where I stood, the ladder suddenly became the most fascinating object ever manufactured.

"Almost."

"Get the binder."

She looked down.

Saw my expression.

Then lower.

"Oh."

"Please get the binder."

Her lips twitched.

She retrieved it.

When she climbed down, she turned around.

We were close.

Very close.

She held the binder against her chest.

Her eyes moved across my face.

Then lower.

Then back.

Her breathing changed.

"This is getting ridiculous."

"Yep."

"I'm not even doing anything."

"I know."

"You held a ladder."

"I know."

She smiled.

"Your body is an idiot."

"Sometimes."

"Not this time?"

I shook my head.

"No."

Her smile faded.

Not unhappily.

She understood.

This wasn't nerves.

It wasn't embarrassment.

It wasn't cold.

I wanted her.

"Okay," she whispered.

Darren's voice came from behind us.

"Did anybody actually need that binder?"

Kelly jumped.

"Yes!"

"Great. Maybe read it from opposite sides of the room."

⸻

Thursday was when my brain finally turned against me.

Kelly was at the bottom filing cabinet.

I wasn't watching her.

At least not initially.

I was answering an email when she walked past my desk muttering about somebody filing paperwork alphabetically by first name.

"Who does this?"

"Apparently somebody who hates you."

"I want names."

"Check the personnel files."

"Funny."

She crouched beside the cabinet.

I finished the sentence I was typing.

Then looked over.

Bad decision.

Kelly shifted onto one knee, leaned sideways and reached deep into the drawer.

The movement gave me a fleeting, intimate glimpse of her.

Nothing deliberate.

Nothing she was even aware of.

Just a second.

But my brain didn't care.

Because suddenly I wasn't looking at a filing cabinet.

I was back on our living-room floor.

Tacos.

Megan laughing.

Kelly lunging across me.

Her hand slipping.

Then Kelly landing against my face for one astonishing second.

Warmth.

Soft skin.

Her scent.

Her horrified expression afterward.

My pussy was just in your face!

I closed my eyes.

Fuck.

Wrong memory.

Very wrong memory.

Especially at work.

I turned back to the computer.

The email had disappeared from my brain.

I read the same sentence three times.

Nothing.

Behind me, the drawer closed.

"Found it."

"Congratulations."

Silence.

"Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you talking like that?"

"I'm answering an email."

Kelly walked closer.

I concentrated on the screen.

"Are you okay?"

"Perfect."

"You're weird."

"Thank you."

She came around my desk.

Looked at me.

Then down.

Then back at me.

Her eyebrows rose.

"Oh."

I sighed.

"Don't."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

"I was going to ask what happened."

"Nothing happened."

She looked down again.

"Something clearly happened."

"Kelly."

"What?"

"Leave it alone."

That guaranteed she wouldn't.

She leaned against my desk.

"Was it me?"

I didn't answer.

"Blake."

"Yes."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing."

"That's not possible."

"It is completely possible."

"I was filing paperwork."

"I know."

She reconstructed the last few minutes.

"I walked past you."

"Yep."

"I complained about the filing system."

"Passionately."

"I crouched down to find the..."

She stopped.

Not because she knew what I'd seen.

Because she saw my expression.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What did you see?"

I looked at my computer.

"Blake."

"Kelly."

"What did you see?"

I should have stopped.

Instead:

"Enough to remind me of tacos."

Silence.

Absolute silence.

Then:

"No."

I looked at her.

Her face turned red.

"Oh my God."

"You asked."

"The taco?"

"There's only one taco incident that requires a definite article."

She covered her face.

"Oh my God."

I laughed.

"Don't."

"My pussy landed on your face!"

Darren looked over.

"What?"

"NOTHING," we yelled together.

He stared.

Then turned slowly back to his computer.

"I don't get paid enough."

Kelly lowered her hands.

"So you saw..."

She gestured vaguely toward the filing cabinet.

"For about a second."

"And it reminded you of..."

"TacoGate."

"Stop calling it that."

"That's what Megan calls it."

"Of course she does."

Her eyes dropped briefly toward the evidence that the memory had affected me considerably more than I'd have preferred.

"So you're sitting there thinking about tacos and getting hard?"

"Not tacos in general."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Don't."

I smiled.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were about to."

"I was just going to clarify."

"Blake."

"A very specific taco."

She pointed at me.

"Don't you dare."

That was enough encouragement.

"I'd like to eat a Kelly taco."

Her mouth dropped open.

For one glorious second, Kelly was completely speechless.

Then:

"You did not just say that to me."

I was already laughing.

"You walked right into it."

"I did not walk into anything!"

"Technically, last time you sort of fell into it."

Both hands went over her face again.

"Oh my God."

Darren looked up.

"What now?"

Kelly pointed at me without uncovering her face.

"He's disgusting."

"I made a taco joke."

Darren stared at me.

Then Kelly.

Then me.

"I'm not asking."

"Smart man."

Kelly lowered her hands.

She was trying to look offended.

The smile ruined it.

"You're an asshole."

"Yeah."

"And you're never calling it a Kelly taco again."

"Absolutely."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You agreed too fast."

"I did."

"You're lying."

"Completely."

She started back toward her desk.

Apparently I had no instinct for self-preservation.

"Thursday special."

Kelly stopped.

Slowly turned.

"Blake."

"Yes?"

"Shut the fuck up."

She was still smiling when she sat down.

That should have ended it.

It didn't.

Because now I had tacos on my mind.

Not actual tacos.

Kelly.

That ridiculous accident.

The warmth and shock of it.

And then my brain supplied something else.

Friday.

Megan's suitcase had been open on our bedroom floor that morning.

She was leaving tomorrow.

Two nights.

Until that moment, the trip had been information.

Suddenly it became something else.

A quiet apartment.

Kelly coming home with me.

No Megan cooking in the kitchen.

No Megan sitting between us on the couch.

No Megan walking down the hallway.

Just Kelly.

And me.

I imagined the apartment door closing behind us.

Kelly dropping her bag.

Both of us already naked because we'd come home from work.

No transition.

No clothes to remove.

No physical barrier at all.

Just us.

My body reacted harder.

"Fuck."

Kelly looked over.

Our eyes met across the office.

For once, she didn't smile.

She just looked at me.

And somehow that was worse.

Because something in her expression told me she was thinking too.

Maybe not the same thing.

Maybe exactly the same thing.

I didn't know.

Darren walked between us carrying a box.

He stopped.

Looked at me.

Looked at Kelly.

Then back at me.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

"What?"

"It's Thursday."

"So?"

"Whatever you two are doing with your eyes right now, save it for Friday."

Kelly's mouth fell open.

I stared at him.

He took three steps.

Stopped.

Slowly turned.

His expression changed.

"Wait."

Nobody spoke.

"Megan's trip is this weekend, isn't it?"

Kelly's face turned red again.

I pointed at him.

"Walk away."

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

"Darren."

"I'm going."

He started walking.

Then called over his shoulder:

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ON MONDAY."

Kelly covered her face.

I started laughing.

"I hate this job."

"No, you don't."

"No."

She lowered her hands.

Our eyes met again.

Friday was still twenty-four hours away.

For the first time, that didn't feel very far away.

⸻

That afternoon, an accounting employee walked into our department carrying a folder.

"Morning, Blake."

"Afternoon."

She handed it to me.

Then glanced down.

Back up.

"Cold?"

I stared at her.

She smiled and walked away.

Kelly nearly fell out of her chair.

"What happened to professionalism?"

"She started it."

"You looked offended."

"I was."

"Why?"

"She was assessing me."

Kelly stared.

Then slowly raised an eyebrow.

I realized what I'd said.

"Don't."

"Oh, this is beautiful."

"Kelly."

"You object to somebody looking?"

"There's a difference."

"What difference?"

"I don't know yet."

"Please figure it out. I'm fascinated."

I pointed at her.

"Limited staring privileges."

"Exactly."

⸻

A customer came in later with his wife.

Both were probably in their sixties.

The husband noticed us immediately.

The wife noticed him noticing.

She elbowed him.

Hard.

"Ow."

"Eyes."

"I wasn't--"

"You were."

Kelly looked at me.

I concentrated very hard on paperwork.

The wife approached my desk.

"Sorry about him."

"Honey."

"What? You were staring."

"I was surprised."

"You've seen naked people."

"Not at an office!"

She looked at me.

"Sorry."

"You're fine."

She glanced toward Kelly.

Then back.

"Good for you."

I wasn't sure what that meant.

"For what?"

She waved vaguely.

"This."

"It's a long story."

"I bet."

Her husband muttered, "Can we please just renew the thing?"

She patted his arm.

"He's shy."

"I am not shy."

"You're turning red."

"I am sitting three feet from a naked man."

I looked at him.

"Technically four."

His wife burst out laughing.

Eventually even he smiled.

Five minutes later we were discussing paperwork like nothing unusual was happening.

People adjusted.

Faster than I expected.

The harder adjustment was Kelly.

Not her nudity.

Her.

By Thursday afternoon, I'd stopped pretending I didn't watch her.

Within reason.

She'd stopped pretending she didn't watch me.

Within somewhat less reason.

We had rules.

Mostly unspoken.

Looking was okay.

Touch happened naturally but didn't linger.

Teasing was allowed.

Comparisons weren't.

And neither of us crossed the invisible line we both knew existed.

Which made that line incredibly fucking visible.

Around three, Kelly dropped a pen.

She bent to pick it up.

I looked.

She straightened.

Caught me.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"No shame anymore?"

"I have some."

"Where?"

"Deep down."

She walked toward me.

Stopped in front of my desk.

"How deep?"

"Kelly."

She smiled.

Then noticed my reaction.

Her expression changed.

She took a slow breath.

The teasing softened.

"See?"

"See what?"

"It's not just you."

I knew.

She knew I knew.

That was the dangerous part.

"We're at work."

"I know."

"Megan."

"I know."

She stepped back immediately.

Not rejected.

Grounded.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Saying her name."

⸻

At four-fifty, Rebecca appeared.

"How's week one?"

"Productive."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Why did that sound suspicious?"

"Because everything he says sounds suspicious now," Darren said.

Kelly nodded.

"True."

Rebecca ignored them.

"Any problems?"

"No."

"Customer complaints?"

"None."

"Employee complaints?"

Darren raised his hand.

Rebecca looked at him.

"Policy-related?"

He lowered it.

"No."

"Then no."

Kelly laughed.

Rebecca shook her head.

"Legal wants another review next week."

"Of us?"

"The policy."

"Oh."

She looked between Kelly and me.

"For whatever it's worth, productivity hasn't changed."

Kelly smiled.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"That's kind of cool."

"It is."

Rebecca looked at me.

"And Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop distracting Kelly."

My mouth fell open.

Kelly burst out laughing.

"Me?"

Rebecca walked away.

"Have a good evening."

I looked at Kelly.

"You're the one who climbed the ladder!"

"I needed the binder!"

Darren packed his bag.

"I am begging both of you to go home."

⸻

Thursday evening, Kelly and I reached the parking lot.

The air was warmer.

She walked beside me without covering herself.

That alone showed how much had changed.

At the car, she stopped.

"Tomorrow."

I knew.

"Yeah."

"Megan leaves in the morning."

"Yeah."

"We go to work."

"Yeah."

"Then we go home."

I looked at her.

"Yeah."

"Alone."

There it was.

Neither of us smiled.

Kelly rested one hand on the open passenger door.

"I'm nervous."

"Me too."

"I don't want something to happen just because she's gone."

"It won't."

She studied me.

"You sure?"

"No."

A small laugh.

"At least you're honest."

"But if something happens between us, it can't be because we finally got an opportunity to sneak around."

Her expression became serious.

"I would never do that to her."

"I know."

"Or you."

"I know."

She looked away.

Then back.

"I want you."

No joke.

No embarrassment.

Just truth.

"I know."

"Do you still want me?"

"Yes."

Her breath caught slightly even though she already knew.

"Okay."

I stepped closer.

Not touching.

Just close.

"But tomorrow doesn't decide anything."

"No."

"And Megan being gone doesn't change the rules."

"What rules?"

"Honesty."

She smiled faintly.

"That's a shitty rule."

"It's been working."

"Debatable."

She climbed into the car.

I walked around and got behind the wheel.

Before I started the engine, Kelly said:

"Blake?"

"Yeah?"

"If nothing happens this weekend..."

I looked at her.

"... that doesn't mean I don't want you."

"I know."

"And if something does..."

She stopped.

I finished it.

"It doesn't mean we know what we are."

She nodded.

"Exactly."

I started the car.

Kelly looked down.

A wicked smile appeared.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Kelly."

"Thursday Blake."

I looked down.

Then at her.

"Jesus Christ."

She laughed.

"Drive."

I pulled out of the parking lot.

Tomorrow Megan would leave.

Kelly and I would go to work.

We would spend eight hours naked together while pretending to be normal.

And then, for the first time since Kelly moved into our apartment, the two of us would go home to an empty place.

Neither of us knew what would happen.

That was the truth.

The more uncomfortable truth was that both of us had spent most of the week imagining it.