I grinned down at my phone. Jimmy’s single word text, with a period at the end, was all that was needed to quicken my heart rate.

I knew Jimmy was out with the rest of the guys from work, at some arcade bar that Cheryl always went on about. But he was still taking the time to text me.

I probably should leave him alone. Team bonding was important and I wanted Jim to feel good here in Chicago—wanted him to want to be here.

My cheeks burned even though I was alone in my apartment. I wanted him to want to be here

with me. It was embarrassing—and strong.

I could picture him, nervous and trying to pretend like he wasn’t. Jimmy wasn’t exactly an arcade kind of guy. I liked that he was texting me to feel more comfortable there, even if he didn’t know that.

Tomorrow we’d have another date. The idea that we had only really known each other for a week was as unbelievable as it was true.

The thing between us felt way bigger than a week.

My phone buzzed against my thigh and I jolted, grabbing at it. I moved so quickly that the water in my cup splashed out. Once again, I managed to embarrass myself when all alone in my apartment.

The caller ID was my best friend. Disappointment flared in my gut. I sighed and answered.

“Hey, J.” I sat the cup back on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. The Cubs were down by ten in the bottom of the seventh and watching them lose again would just be depressing.

I flicked through the guide while J laughed. He was full on belly laughing with no prompting. It was unsurprising.

I waited. Eventually, I found a show about crab hunters or something and J stopped openly mocking me for an unknown thing.

“So, here’s the thing,” J started, and I imagined his dumb face full of mirth.

“Hey to you, too,” I said, trying to remind him that he hadn’t actually said anything in greeting yet.

“Oh, sorry. Sup?”

I rolled my eyes. “You haven’t been answering my calls. You text me a hundred times, I try to call you back, and you don’t answer.”

“I’ve been busy! I’m calling now, aren’t I?”

J and I met nearly a decade ago. He was the worst drummer I’d ever met and after a month of him stinking Yellow Tail up, I told him so. He’d laughed and bought me a drink. We’d been best friends ever since.

“How’s your family?” I asked, crossing my ankles on the coffee table. “Baby bro still being a—what did you call him? A whine bag who hates cookies?”

“A whiney sack of boring full of oatmeal raisin cookies that he wouldn’t eat anyway,” J corrected. “But he’s good. Actually, way more fun than the last time we hung out. Way, way more fun, some would say. Even people like you.”

I frowned. The fuck were these crab hunters doing? The weather was way too bad for them to still be out there on the water. “Uh huh,” I muttered into the phone, and then thought about it for half a second. “Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”

I could hear J wave me off. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Just saying, it’s nice to have him in the city. But YOU. Tell me about you.”

The way he said it made me feel like he knew something I didn’t. I blew my breath out and considered. Then I said, “fuck it” and told J about Jimmy.

“I’ve met someone,” I admitted

J wolf-whistled, laughing immediately. “Oh, you old dog. Who is the lucky guy?”

I turned the TV down a little. “I—well we met in a bar,” J laughed harder. “But he also works in my office.”

This sobered J up a little. “Wait, what? You’re his boss?”

I rubbed a hand through my hair. “I know,” I groaned, “but technically I didn’t know that when we first—met.”

“Dude, no details,” J said quickly. I laughed.

“Since when?”

“Just—I—I am maturing. So you guys, you aren’t like anything?”

“Actually, well. We have a date. For tomorrow.”

J was more amused that I thought the situation called for. “Oh, that’s amazing.”

I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. “It’s weird, man. I think I actually care about this guy.”

J was quiet for a moment. “You haven’t really said that before.”

“Haven’t really felt it,” I admitted. J didn’t reply and I chuckled awkwardly. “Anyways, what are you up to?”

“Nothing quite as romantic,” he said. “Just thinking we should get together soon.”

I pulled the phone away long enough to look at my calendar. I had a regional meeting down in St. Louis that day—didn’t know why the fuck the regional meeting wasn’t in Chicago, the bigger city and the bigger branch, but that was a conversation I didn’t want to have with my boss. “Busy till the Friday after next.”

J laughed. “Adulting is hard. Okay, yeah, I’m free then.”

“Perfect!”

He waited a beat and then said, “I could—oh, yeah, okay. I could bring my brother! Yeah! This is the best idea. Best friend and baby bro.”

He started laughing again. I chuckled, confused, but shrugged again. “Yeah, sure. It’ll be good to meet him. No cookies.”

“Hey, don’t be hasty. Bring me cookies at least.”

I snorted, shaking my head. Then the guys on the TV nearly fell out of the boat. “Shit, I gotta go. These crab hunters are gonna die.”

“What?” I hung up on J and let my phone drop.

It buzzed again and I nearly cursed because it wasn’t like J was actually saying anything. I answered without looking away from the screen.

“J, what?”

There was squeaking and then, “oh! I—sorry! Sorry!”

And that was decidedly not J.

“Jimmy?” I tore the phone away from my ear and sure enough, it read Jimmy XX. I smiled wide and clicked the TV off. Fuck the crab hunters.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t have called,” Jimmy’s voice was that same deep gravel and even though I’d seen him earlier today, it made me shiver. He sounded sort of far away, like the crowd of the bar was a wave of noise.

“Why?” I asked, leaning back on the couch. I dropped my head to the rest and let my fingers tap against the cushion.

“Why?” he repeated.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked.

He hesitated and then said, “You don’t sound like you want to talk.” He hiccupped halfway through.

Oh, I thought, he’s drunk. I grinned.

“Ah, I thought you were someone else,” I explained. “I am more than happy to talk to you.”

I heard him suck in air. There was a muffled voice and then the background noise got quieter. “I am happy to talk to you, too.”

We’d been texting all evening but after the meeting that afternoon, his bright eyes and red lips, hearing his low voice hit against me warmly. I felt my bones and muscles relax. “Where are you?”

“Outside the barcade,” he said.

I bit back a laugh. Jimmy was maybe the most no-nonsense guy I’d ever met. Half the time I wanted to bring a dictionary with me just in case I didn’t know what he was saying during pitch meetings. Hearing him say barcade was almost as hilarious as knowing he was at one.

“Having a good night?” Shit, my voice was coming out in a low drawl.

As he spoke, I let his voice scrape against me. “It’s been pleasant, although I spent most of it wishing you were here as well. The others seem to be enjoying the games. I—can see why they like to come here.”

I felt almost as jittery as I did relaxed. “You drunk, Swan?”

“No.” He answered quickly. Then he sighed. “A little bit. You called me Swan.”

“Is that not okay?” I realized that I had never called him that. Even at work, he insisted on Jimmy. His parents were gone so maybe he didn’t like the reminder of his family.

“No, no, I—I like it.” He sounded a bit shyer now.

I grinned. “Is that so?”

“Y-yes,” he stuttered around the small word, and I imagined him shivering. He’d be outside, wrapped in his black coat, arms tight around his chest with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. His hair would be wild, of course—it always was, and I could imagine how good it must look now, after an evening in a sweaty bar, him running his long fingers through it, tugging it in frustration, sweeping it out of his eyes. The hickeys I’d given him were probably completely faded, and even if they weren’t, they definitely wouldn’t be visible in his thick coat, but I imagined him with them anyway. Bright red, the shape of my lips. His eyes would be closed, his head against the brick wall.

I didn’t realize how much time had passed with me just quietly drooling over my imagined version of Jimmy until he cleared his throat. I blinked and grabbed my water, swallowing down half the cup. “Sorry, got—distracted.”

“I could let you go?”

“No,” I answered quickly. “Unless you want to go.”

“No! Unless—”

I cut him off. “I don’t want you to go.”

He let out a breath. I heard it hit against the phone receiver and let my eyes fall closed. His breath kept coming out and I could feel mine evening to match.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” Jimmy said quiet, his tone dropping as he lowered his voice. It was warm, like chocolate melting down my throat and I hummed, trying to encourage him to keep talking. “It has been difficult this week to—focus my thoughts.”

“You probably shouldn’t be admitting that to your boss,” I drawled, grinning.

Jimmy huffed out a small laugh. “I think my boss will let me off.”

And, God help me, but that went straight through me like a streak of heat. I swallowed around a few responses that would have definitely sent me straight to HR with guilt, off hours or not.

“Yeah,” I choked out. “I guess I will.”

Jimmy hummed a low note under his breath, considering. Then he said, “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.” The crunch of gravel made it through the phone’s speakers.

“Jimmy?” I asked. I heard the low thrum of his voice but couldn’t make out any of the words—it was too muffled, as if he’d placed his hand over the speaker. Then there was the definite sound of a car unlocking. “Jimmy?”

“Just one moment, Dean.” He sounded a little breathless. There was the ruffling of fabric and then the turn of an engine. “Sorry, sorry.”

“What’s up?” I laid back on the couch, settling with one arm underneath my head. I’d changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt when I’d gotten home from work and now, with Jimmy’s voice in my ear, I was relaxing. I could feel the stress of the week seeping out of me as I leaned into the cushions.

“I was saying goodbye to Clark and Tony,” he said. He sounded louder, clearer now. There was just the shuffle of fabric, as if he was struggling out of his coat. “I’m in my car now.”

“Finally had enough of team bonding?” I asked, rolling my neck. The crack was intensely satisfying and I let out a little groan.

Jimmy fell quiet, the shuffling from before stopping. Then it came back louder. “I—would rather be bonding in a different way.”

“That so?” I laughed. “What, you more of a mini-golf guy, Jim?”

He chuckled. “Not quite. I was thinking I should be bonding with you.”

I froze. My breath punched out from me.

He continued, sounding pleased with himself. “Tell me, what’s your idea of bonding?”

I shivered. Holy shit. “I—I don’t know.” I was spluttering my words now. My clothes felt itchy. Jimmy felt miles and miles away and that was because he was and wow, I was a little bit devastated about that. “I—like all kinds of bonding.”

“That so?” Jimmy asked. His voice was a bit breathier, but still so clear. “I had a few ideas.”

“What—are they?”

Jimmy waited a second, then, lower, “It would depend, of course. On where we were.”

“Where?” God, my voice squeaked.

“You and I, Dean, we could—bond—anywhere. Take the elevator for example.”

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. “The elevator,” I repeated.

I imagined him in his car, covered in shadows, head leaning against the rest. I imagined his phone on speaker and his hands decidedly busy elsewhere—my stomach jumped.

“The other day,” Jimmy elaborated. “If we had been alone in the elevator, well, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

I knew what he was talking about. My skin had felt too tight, every one of my muscles trembling as I tried to stop myself grabbing him and throwing him against the wall. It would have been—

“So good,” I breathed out. I hadn’t meant to.

Jimmy agreed immediately. “Yes,” he said, “it would have been.”

It hadn’t been a full week since we’d been with each other yet. I was devastatingly hungry for him anyway.

“Jimmy,” I said, before trailing off. I didn’t know what to say. There wasn’t anything to say. I just—wanted so strongly it nearly hurt.

“I want to see you,” he said, the words rushing out.

I sat up fast. “Yes,” I agreed quickly. “Come over.”

He cursed under his breath and the same heat from earlier came careering back. I was nearly light headed with anticipation, it slammed into me like a bolt of lightning.

“Send me your address,” he said, “I’m on my way.”

“Yes, yes.” I jumped off the couch, pacing a little in front of the TV as I pulled the phone away to quickly text him my address. “Wait,” I stopped, pulling the phone back to my ear. “You’ve been drinking. You okay to drive?”

“Perfectly,” he said. “My last drink was over an hour ago.”

“Okay.” The butterflies threatened to leave my stomach and take control of my whole damn body. “I—I guess I’ll see you soon.”

Jimmy let out a breath. I tightened my grip around my phone. “Yes,” he said, voice dropping. I shivered. “I’m on my way.”

The call disconnected and I sat it down, rubbing my hands through my hair. Then I looked around the messy living room. “Shit!” I grabbed a handful of dishes, abandoning them in the sink, before rushing to the bathroom to grab my toothbrush.

Giddy, I tried to clean as I brushed my teeth, my heart slamming in my chest. Jimmy Swan was coming over.