“So, you found that psychotherapist online.” Penny says and takes a sip of a coffee from her office cup with a corporate logo of GameCo. We are spending our break in our office kitchen just like we always do, drinking shitty coffee from a coffee machine and gossiping around. Or as Penny says “Discussing our daily agenda.”
“On Craigslist.” I nod and take a sip myself. My cup says “I don’t work here” and it pretty much sums up my corporate ethic.
“And now you are worried because he told you, that you need to grow up.” Penny raises her eyebrow.
“Yes, and he told me a lot of other horrible things. Like that I don't have a dream, and that I avoid any responsibility and that I have nothing bigger than me.”
“Yes.” I say helplessly and look down. “Penny, it’s all true and I literally spent half of my working day thinking about this shit over and over again.” Not to mention that I cried for half an hour in a public toilet, because when someone tells you that you don't have a dream and you know deep down that it's true, there is no other option left but to have a big fat fucking breakdown.
“Oh great, you spent half of your working day stressing over the shit that some dude from Craigslist has told you, while our deadlines are going to hell and Baz is terrorizing everyone since early this morning.”
“Penny, you know we will fail this sprint. And even if we don't he won't ever be happy anyway.”
Baz is our producer. The evil one. Also, he is the aim of our most hilarious jokes and theories. Mainly about how many white shirts he owns exactly. Penny says that he has one for each day of the week, but I disagree, I think that it’s the same shirt that he just keeps wearing over and over again.
As I finish speaking, Penny makes round eyes and points with them to a kitchen entrance. Oh, great, here he is. I barely turn my head, just to see that Baz walks in.
He gives us a suspicious look, like he is not completely sure if we are even allowed to be in here in the middle of a working day. I bet he is counting in his head how many cents our ten minutes break will cost the company in general and our project in particular. Yes, he is that type.
“Snow, Bunce.” He nods dryly and while his tea is preparing, he sits at the table across from us, nose deeply in his phone. Me and Penny share the look. Baz never sits on the same table as us, even though we are his team. I don't know, maybe he is hoping that not sharing a table with us will bring him closer to sit at the top management table. Or maybe it's just the way he is. Arrogant and distant and perfectly above everybody else.
“How is your task going on?” Baz suddenly acknowledges our existence with the most annoying question the producer could ever ask. Since he is not even bothered to look up I roll my eyes at Penny. She rolls hers right back at me. God, we are so good at that.
“Are you planning to finish it today?” Baz repeats with his voice completely dry and emotionless. I give him a killing stare, which once again passes by, unnoticed since he still is not looking up.
“We are working on it.” Penny says, because she has enough self-control to answer his stupid questions. Though, whilst saying this, she points her index finger to her temple, then pulls an imaginary trigger, while using her other hand to show that her brain explodes all over the kitchen. In turn, I put my index finger into my mouth and pull a trigger as well. Penny chuckles silently then nods to the exit. “Let's go.” She whispers, because she knows as well as I do, that if Baz is here the fun part is over anyway.
Unfortunately, I stand up too quickly and my chair makes a dreadful sound. Fuck. Baz quickly looks up and for a moment our eyes meet. He startles and blinks awkwardly and then almost immediately looks down. It’s stupid, but I have this feeling that I do sometimes have, when I catch him staring at me that way. It’s like someone opens a window, and the wind blows in and suddenly your papers are all over the floor. That kind.
Like that there is something between us and maybe, just maybe he is checking me out. After all he is the other openly gay guy in our office. But then I just annoyingly shake it off because still, it doesn't change the fact that we are like a completely different species, me, a computer geek in my old Vans, oversized hoodie and ripped jeans and Baz, in his awful black and white clerk’s outfits and probably with a half-paid credit on his new shiny BMW.
I give Baz another careful look, but he is deep down in his phone again and I can't see his face anymore. But well, what is there to see anyway. As a few terribly slow seconds pass one after another, I remind myself that he is just my horribly boring producer, who I definitely have nothing in common with. Penny is already waiting for me by the doorway, but as I walk towards the exit, I definitely feel Baz’s stare over my back.
The task that Baz was asking us about was a particularly boring one. Like almost anything on this project, to be honest. Some might think that working in a big game company is full of fun and adventure, but mostly it's just routine and precise work, especially if you are a software engineer like me and Penny. Right now, we were not even working on the game itself, just on a web-site with some boring ratings and numbers and calculations.
No wonder that I end up googling “getting over your shrink diagnosis” and thinking over and over how I can prove to this Craigslist guy that he is wrong and I am a grown up.
Well, first of all I am 28 years old. And I do have a steady career, a particularly boring one, but still. I sigh. Maybe I should buy a house or a car or something.
I guess the decent grownup relationship might be an answer, but I suck at that department completely. My last boyfriend Augustus, wasn't really a good example of something steady and long term. To be honest it wasn't even a relationship, more like series of one night stands, when one of us was usually drunk. But oh my god, the sex was awesome though. And, holy fuck, Augustus was hot. With his long blond hair, driving his motorbike and playing in his band. The only problem was, that he cared about almost anything in the world more than he cared about me. No wonder we broke up at the first opportunity. Especially when this opportunity came as a cute groupie guy willing to give him a blowjob after the concert. Well, fuck him anyway.
I need something that is the opposite of that. Something steady and boring and long term. Something grownup. The word boring, weirdly makes me think of my producer. I take a look across the room, towards where Baz is sitting. The office’s open space is almost dark, except for the table lamps of a few people, who like me prefer to come to work later and sit extra hours at the evening. Baz is still working and his face looks even more pale and tense than usual under the half-shadow of a table lamp.
I wonder why he is still here. A guy like him should have a loving boyfriend and a dog waiting for him at home. I try to imagine what his possible partner might look like and all I do come up with is that he probably wears a lot of cardigans and has the same dry smile that Baz has. And his name is Robert. And they live happily ever after and God I hate that guy.
The only thing is, there is no Robert. I know for sure that Baz is single. Why else would he spent all this extra hours at work. So, no cardigan guy by his side. And probably no dog either.
Why am I even considering Baz in that way? I guess he is a little bit cute, in that grey area where you can find your weird co-worker even remotely interesting. He has this shoulder length dark hair, which he sometimes pulls back with his hand in a careless way. Yes, I have noticed that. And he wears glasses sometimes which definitely switches my thoughts in the wrong direction, because apparently, I do have a thing for guys in glasses.
But that's it, because otherwise, he is just ridiculous with all of his office suits and white shirts and shoes, here is the middle of a game company, where almost everyone is wearing hoodies and trainers. Not to mention that he has a postman bag.
On the other hand, this must be what a grown up looks like, right? I bet he already has a pretty house in the suburbs bookmarked and a dream to buy it as soon as possible. I shiver inside. That is so far from the dreams that I have. Though it doesn’t matter because mister ‘Craigslist therapist’ can go and choke on his diagnosis and I will go and date a guy like that. Why am I even thinking about that. Stop.
I look at Baz once again and see how he rubs his eyes. He looks tired. Why does he work so bloody much? That's just ridiculous, our project is such a bloody mess anyway.
Come on, ask him out. That is a terrible idea and Penny would probably kill me, but she isn't here. She went home earlier to have some happy family time with her hot husband Mica and I can't exactly blame her for that.
And the only thing that is waiting for me at home are my WoW guild mates and couple of beers in my fridge. No wonder I am not in such a hurry to get there. I look at Baz one more time. Does he even go on dates? I mean, I am not even quite sure that he has a fucking soul.
What the hell. I still have a few hours before my WoW raid. I have nothing to lose and I am definitely in the mood to see Baz getting awkward. In a worst case scenario, it will be something funny to laugh at with Penny tomorrow morning.
I startle when I look up and see Snow standing in front of my desk. I blink a few times, trying to spell an image of the Golden Boy away and force myself to stare back at my screen. The report I am working on is fucking killing me. We are behind all deadlines and I have to explain to the top management why we should move the release date. Again.
I am so not in the mood to deal with Simon fucking Snow right now. Especially not after the kitchen episode, the one that almost set my skin on fire. Because apparently, I am that stupid, as I’m still hoping for something. Instead I remind myself that he is definitely the part of a problem also called “Why our project is failing so miserably”. I sigh. If only I could make these damn engineers work just a little bit once in a while. Or if I had the skill to write a computer code on my own. Maybe then our fucking release won’t be pushed forward for a third time in a row.
If he came here just to tell me that he needs a few more days to work on a task that he has already spent three times more time than we originally planned, I will fucking kill him.
“Snow, what do you want?” I ask in a sharp voice. The voice that I somehow manage to use when he is around.
“I -” he looks nervous and swallows awkwardly. God, he’s going to ask me about extra days for sure. “Do you wanna go out? For a drink. With me.” He says and at first, I don’t get it. Then I freeze, eyes glued to my screen. A hot wave goes through my spine. I finally look up, just to realize what a mortal mistake it is, because he is looking at me and he is smiling and it’s like fucking sunshine suddenly falling all over me.
God, it’s not that I haven’t seen him smile before. He fucking smiles at everyone all the time. Well, everyone except me. Usually, he doesn’t even talk to me in a normal way. It’s just “Fuck you, you are my producer” way.
And I am ok with that. At least I used to be. Because it used to make my life with a crush on Simon Snow so much easier.
I still remember my first day at GameCo. The whole office was a line of blurry faces, but his was an exception. I hopelessly fell for his pale blue eyes and a gorgeous wave of his dirty blond hair. There was only one problem. Simon fucking Snow was so out of my league. Completely. And hopelessly.
Eventually, I started to notice him on the floor, casually passing by, at the kitchen, laughing with his co-workers, in the elevator, leaning over the wall. And never ever noticing me. In few months, we were assigned on the same project and things became only worse. Snow shifted almost immediately from a not noticing me phase, to a phase where he hated my guts for being his annoying producer.
And it’s not only that he was handsome, he was one of those cool kids. Always a little bit messed up, like he probably wakes up in the morning and just puts on some random clothes and barely brushes his hair and then he is out to office just like that. And I have to yell at him, because he is fucking late again and he looks at me with his sleepy eyes, sometimes with dark circles underneath, and I wonder did he even sleep last night. I hate worrying about him. Especially since when he looks up, there is nothing behind his eyes, because in the perfect, colourful, adventures world where Snow apparently lives, such guys like me don’t even exist.
One thing more. I know that he has a boyfriend. A few weeks before I saw him hopping on the back of the motorcycle with some gorgeous blond guy who looked exactly as cool as all of his boyfriends must look like. Did they break up? It doesn't matter anyway, because I know the type of guys that he supposed to be dating. And I know that I am definitely not one of them.
As I said before, it was hopeless.
“Sorry, what?” I ask stupidly with my dry throat.
“I mean, it’s quite late for work, isn’t it? Do you wanna grab a drink?” Snow gives me another killer smile. “Stop working so bloody much.” I flush and stare back at my report. It still has to be finished. It just has to be.
“I know a bar nearby.” I say before I can make myself shut up. Before I have a chance to remind myself who I am, who he is. Not only my co-worker, but my bloody hot co-worker, so hot that it must be some kind of a joke or a trick or whatever. And of course, I don’t know any fucking bar nearby, it was a complete lie.
“Great, I will just grab my backpack and wait for you near the elevator.” Snow nods, like this whole thing is not a big deal. And it probably isn't.
“Ok.” I nod in reply. Just be cool. Turn off your computer and just go there. And google some decent bar nearby for Christ sake. And please just this one time try not to fuck everything up.
Snow starts walking away, but then he stops halfway and turns to me. “Hey Baz,” he hesitates for a moment, “I was just wondering, do you have a dog by any chance? Or...”
“No.” I interrupt too afraid to hear what might come next. Like what if he would actually ask me if I have a boyfriend. Or would understand that I never had one. Not anyone that matters anyway. Not anyone with messy blond hair and killer blue eyes. Shut up. He probably asked you out just to make his boyfriend jealous.
“I guess I never had a chance to get one. Maybe one day.” I say quickly, just to make him stay beside my desk a little bit longer. Yeah, one day you will have a dog. And a boyfriend. And it would be Simon Snow. Sure, in your dreams, Baz.
A shadow crawls over his face, but he forces it away with a fake smile. “That's what I thought. Never mind.” He says and my heart drops. Does he really understand how desperate I am? Is it that obvious?
“And what about you?” I ask trying to read something behind his eyes. Do you have a dog? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you even date guys like me?
“I mean, do you like dogs?” I squeeze out finally. Sucker. The question sounds too weird hanging in a dry air of the dark, half empty office. He won’t even understand what I mean. Or would he?
Snow freezes for a moment, looking somewhere behind my back. “That's a problem.” He says finally and there is a shadow on his face once again. “I don't really know.”
