Brad

Three weeks into my new job and I’m feeling like I finally belong somewhere. I mostly felt like I belonged at Mad Designs, but I wasn’t huge on women’s fashion, and usually had issues describing what I did to others. I rarely let my professional life get mixed up with any of the women in my personal life, but when I did, it was hard to calm them down and steer them away from the topic of getting them free clothes for life.

Software development – actually, applications development within computer programs – is what I’m doing now. The company has me working on a newly-formed team of developers and coders with a range of experience. My team is made up of five men, including myself, and three women of widely varying ages, ethnic backgrounds, and personalities. Starting at the same place with them has been nice, rather than having to find my place in an existing team. I also feel compelled to make myself earn my spot, so I stay late and come in early. I don’t fuck around during the day and stay on task. I contribute to discussions just as much if not more than others during creative strategy meetings while some of my ideas are complete shit, I have had some good ones, which were put before the group to brainstorm on further.

I am packing up my laptop at the end of the week when Dale, one of my team members, stops beside me.

“Hey, I wanted to see if you’d like to join me and a few buddies for some beers since it’s Friday?” he asks.

Dale is your average-looking guy. Some people may even say that he’s attractive in a boy-next-door kind of way. He has a short beard, brown hair and a lean build. He’s friendly, yet keeps to himself most days.

“Sure. Where are you guys headed?” I ask, zipping up my bag.

“There’s a place nearby I try to hit up at least once a week. They have great tacos and even better craft beer.

“Been a minute since I’ve had real tacos.”

“They didn’t serve ‘em up on Tuesdays in the pen?” Dale jokes.

“Not a chance.” I admit with a laugh.

I’ve been honest with a few of my co-workers about my past. They didn’t need to know, but I figured that if I was to make friends with any of the people I work with, I would rather the information come from me versus someone else. I’m starting fresh from my past, but I know that I need to be honest with people that I bring into my life. Seth, the oldest of our team gave me the cold shoulder for a few days after I told everyone, but he’s slowly begun to ask me myriad questions about what my experience was like in jail.

I follow Dale to a small hole-in-the-wall bar, with a taco shop in the very back. There are three rows of long tables and half the place is outdoors. We grabbed a spot at the end of the middle table, closer to the entrance. Dale lifts his hand and, within a minute, a pitcher of beer is placed in front of us.

“This is a mixture of a blonde and an IPA. I hope you aren’t a beer pussy.” Dale smiles.

“Not at all.” I grab one of the chilled glasses and begin pouring.

“So, you seem like a normal guy. You don’t strike me as an ex-con. What did you do before you went to jail?” Dale asks.

“I was one-third of Mad Designs, the fashion company in the city.”

“Chick clothes?” Dale asks wiping the froth off his upper lip.

“Yeah. I was kind of born into it.” I shrug.

“You didn’t go back there after you got out?”

“I couldn’t.” I say quietly while taking a sip of my drink and looking down at the table.

Dale nods, not asking any further questions from the hint of not wanting to continue talking about that part of my life and we change the subject while we wait for his friends to meet up with us. After an hour, no one else shows up and we part ways.

I stop off at the corner market on my way home to grab some milk. As I am checking out, the front door chimes and my attention goes toward the noise. My eyes lock onto Mika. She freezes and her eyes go wide when she sees me and then she proceeds to walk in.

“Are you stalking me?” I joke, grabbing the strap of my canvas bag and tugging it over my shoulder.

“I was starting to think that same about you,” she retorts.

“I live walking distance from here.” I shrug.

“So do I. What a coincidence.” She tilts her head, a slow smile appearing on her face.

“I can wait for you, and walk you home, be all gentlemanly and shit.” I smile.

“Gentlemanly,” she repeats as she walks off.

I stand by patiently as she gathers a few items off the shelves and then she checks out and meets me at the door.

“Lead the way, Madame.” I playfully bow to her, extending my arm in front of us.

She quietly directs us to the right and down a residential street, the opposite way from my home. We walk in silence for a few moments before I speak up.

“So, since I’ve been back to the city, I’ve run into you more than I have my regular mailman.”

“You don’t see your mailman daily?”

“Do you?”

“Good point,” she agrees.

“Have you lived in the area for long?” I fish.

I decide right then that I’m going to give up trying to exorcise her from my thoughts. Since she keeps popping up everywhere, it’s impossible to go a day without thinking about tugging her bottom lip between my teeth, putting her curves against my straining erection, or fisting her hair in my hands as my tongue fucks her mouth. With those thoughts, my cock starts to harden and my heart beats a little faster.

“I moved back home to South San Francisco two years ago. Before that, I lived in Hayward.”

“You go to school in the city?”

“College? I went to Cal State East Bay, got my degree in nursing, specializing in cardiology, and got lucky with work.”

“Wanted to save lives?”

“No, actually. I was gunning for a job like on Grey’s Anatomy.”

“You mean, have a huge catastrophe happen to you on a regular basis?”

“The show made it look like a really cool job to do. They were always on the go, there was always something happening. I like the fast-paced gory details and crazy things that always seemed to happen. Plus, my parents are old fashioned and wanted me to not work and instead marry, so I kinda wanted to do something that would prove to them that I could help others while also having a good career.”

I laugh quietly. “How long have you been a nurse?”

“I’ve been out of school and a full-on RN for two years. After I graduated, I tried hard to get a job at a few out of town hospitals for a change of scenery, but nothing panned out right away. Then Reed told me about an opening that he heard about from a client of his. I interviewed and then started working almost right away. After I landed the job at SF Gen, I started getting all the other offers. By then it was too late, and I had already accepted the job.”

“Almost?”

“Background check took a few days,” she says as I nod.

“Do you enjoy it? Fixing people’s insides?”

“Some days more than others, but yes. I like that I’m helping save lives, plus it’s pretty cool to tell people what I do.

“You prefer hearts versus medicine as a whole?”

“I think everyone wants to fix a broken heart, I just really get to do it.” She beams.

“So, what about you? I hear you got a job.”

“Checkin’ up on me with your brother?” I tease. Even with the soft glow of the overhead street lights, I can see her face blush. “While I was locked away, I earned a certificate in software development. I did what I could to pass the time; learning a marketable skill seemed to be the most logical. So anyways, I finished shortly before release. I got a job a few weeks ago at a spot called Omega Development, working with a team to develop the computer applications of tomorrow.”

“You mean like Bill Gates?”

“Not that advanced, but it’s a pretty decent job. I make enough to live and I keep busy.” I make a shit-ton of money, much more than I was anticipating with a recent background such as mine.

“That’s awesome. Congrats,” she says.

The next few moments between us are quiet, until she stops in front of a house with two front doors. I look up the walkway and note the wraparound porch. On one side is a white rocking chair and on the other side is a swinging canopy chair. The two story house looks old, but well maintained. On each side of the house, beside each of the front doors, are large rectangular windows, and the side with the canopy chair has a smaller window in the corner, which looks to wrap around.

“I would invite you in, but it’s late and I don’t want to take up too much more of your time.” She turns to face me. “Thank you for the gentlemanly escort home from the store.”

“Anytime. Maybe I’ll run into you again some time.” I try to hold in my laugh but she breaks out giggling and when she snorts, her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes go wide.

“Sorry. Um, yeah. I’ll see you around. Bye, Brad.” She turns and walks up the walkway, turning to the side of the house with the swinging canopy chair. She looks back at me, still standing at the end of the sidewalk watching her. She fumbles with the lock and then with her hand on the doorknob, she turns it and walks inside. She looks my way again with a beautiful smile on her face as the door closes.

Mika

Holy shit!

My whole body is vibrating, and all that happened was Brad walked me home. He said that he was doing it to be a gentleman, but I wanted him to be anything but a gentleman. Instead, we had conversation about work, like two friends. I didn’t want to be friends with him, unless it’s friends with benefits. Yeah, I could get behind that.

I went to the corner store down the street from my place in search of some snacks for when I binge watch Netflix all weekend and lo and behold, there he stood at the checkout. He was dressed in dark jeans and a heather gray t-shirt, which looked so soft. I tried to school my expression and not appear too excited to see him. Luckily, he spoke first, then offered to wait for me so he could walk me home.

Swoon!

I didn’t want to be presumptuous and think that he would want to come in when we reached my place, or when I closed the door as he watched me from the end of the sidewalk. I wanted him to come in and we could continue our conversations, but I think I was too nervous to ask.

I shake my head and push away from the door. Seems I get to spend my night with Mr. T instead. Only my feet won’t go very far before they turn around. I drop my bag of snacks and throw the front door open. My feet pound across the porch, down the steps and onto the pavement. I can still see Brad, so he hadn’t been walking too fast. I run after him and the closer that I get, I notice he’s looking up at the sky so I slow my pace and lift my gaze to do the same. The sky is clear, which is pretty rare for the city. Since I wasn’t paying attention to how close I was getting to him, I bump right into him. My hands land on his waist, and I grip onto him as I bounce off his solid frame.

“Hey! Watch where…” His voice trails off as he recognizes me. “Mika?”

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to run you over.”

“That’s okay, I’m sure it’s payback from the gym. Is everything okay?” he asks, bending his knees so he can be face-to-face with me.

“Yeah. I just…” I catch my breath. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to, I don’t know, hang out? I mean it’s Friday night and…” Omigosh! Hang out? Am I sixteen?

He smiles. “I thought it was late?”

“It’s cool, nevermind.” I say quickly, feeling rejected. I start to turn, but his hand on my arm stops me.

“No. I’d love to. Just as long as I can stow my milk in your fridge?” he says, holding up his bag with a smirk.

“Why are you looking at me like you’re waiting for me to get the joke? Is there a joke here?”

“There could be, but I’ve yet to figure it out.”

We turn and begin to walk back to my place. I’m nervous, but why not have some company when I sit around eating cookies while watching television?

I let him enter my place first and, as I lock the door behind me, suddenly I feel self-conscious as he’s now here. I know enough about him to know he’s not on parole because he committed a violent crime or has anything else on his record that would make me think he might kill me. I did my fair share of googling him to know that his stint in jail was the result of the only crime he’s ever been convicted of; in fact, it’s the only time he’s been on the wrong side of the law. Plus, I’ve asked my brother enough random questions in the weeks since he became Reed’s client to know that Brad’s a decent guy.

He waits for me just inside the hallway that leads to the rest of my place. I live in a two bedroom and one bath duplex that is owned by my parents. My brother lives on the other side, which makes entertaining of the opposite sex hard since big brother is right next door. More than that, he shares a wall! That's much closer than "right next door.

“So, I can offer you a variety of beverages such as water, milk, juice boxes and flavored water.”

“Flavored water?”

“That fancy shit, like flavored sparkling water.”

“Fancy shit. I’ll try one of those fancy shits.”

“That sounds just disgusting. Thank goodness this isn’t a reality show, where everyone is miked and the viewers hear all the horrible things said. That right there would become your catch phrase.”

“I’ll have to trademark it.”

“Please don’t. It’s not flattering.” I shake my head as I walk into the kitchen and grab a Pellegrino for each of us.

I hold up the two different flavors for Brad to make his selection and thankfully he selects the orange one instead of the lemon, which is my favorite.

“So, what did you have in mind for tonight?”

“Netflix binge watching. That’s why I was at the store.”

“I know I was out of commission for three years, but I don’t think you can buy Netflix at the corner store.” He smiles.

“Duh, silly. I went for snack reinforcements and, apparently, some company.” God, I sound horrible. I hope he doesn’t know what the term Netflix and chill means.

“What kind of reinforcements do we have then?” He smiles, leaning back on the counter with his hands.

I look around my kitchen and notice my bag isn’t here. Then I remember I dropped it in the hallway before I ran out the door to go and convince Brad to come back here. I give the universal sign for ‘one minute’ and run past him, pick up the bag off the floor and then jog back into the kitchen.

I begin unloading the contents. A bag of soft chewy cookies, a large bag of plain M&M’s, a box of popcorn, a box each of Hostess Cupcakes and Twinkies, and a package of Oreo cookies.

He laughs as he examines my purchases. “I feel like I’m going to need to visit the dentist after tonight.”