I shuffled into work the next morning, the weight of last night’s bizarre encounter still heavy on my shoulders. The air felt thicker today, like there was something in the atmosphere that wasn’t quite right. And then I noticed it—people staring. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but as I made my way through the cubicles, it became impossible to ignore.

  Whispers followed me like a shadow, and every time I glanced around, someone quickly turned away. I felt my face flush, and my heart rate sped up. What the hell was going on?

  I glanced down at myself—pants? Fine. Shirt? Buttoned properly. Nothing out of the ordinary. I was probably just being paranoid. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Was I walking funny? Did I have something on my face?

  As I turned a corner, I passed by the supply room and overheard one of the new hires, Allison, whispering to Karen. Her voice was too loud to be subtle. “Isn’t that Daniel, the guy with the—” I didn’t catch the rest because I’d already walked past at an awkwardly quick pace, but the way they both quickly shut up when I got close made me feel like I’d just been judged for something. But for what?

  By the time I got to my cubicle, it was like the air had thickened even more. People were staring, not even pretending to work. It was like I had something written on my face. Something weird. But before I could dwell on it too long or even unpack for the day, Greg appeared by my desk.

  Great. Of course, my supervisor had to be the one to talk to me. He always had that “you’re in trouble” look about him, even if he wasn’t mad at me.

  Greg looked like someone who had given up on dreams but still ironed his shirts out of habit. Mid-40s, thinning hair slicked back with the same gel he probably used in high school, and a mustache that existed purely to say, "I'm in charge here." His tie was always too tight, like it was strangling what little enthusiasm he had left, and his dress shirt never quite fit—either too loose at the gut or pulling tight across the shoulders, depending on how many donuts were in the breakroom that week.

  He wasn’t a terrible guy, exactly. Just the kind of middle-management boss who mistook micromanaging for leadership and considered sarcasm a personality. His hobbies included forwarding outdated memes and reminding everyone of the dress code in Slack messages that began with “Just a friendly reminder…”

  “Daniel,” he said, voice tight, “we need to talk.”

  “Uh... sure, what’s up?” I muttered, trying to act casual, even though my stomach was beginning to twist its knots into more knots. Real sailor-type knots.

  He stood there for a beat, staring at me like I had done something terribly wrong. Then, with a deep sigh, he stepped aside. “Mercer,” Greg said, arms crossed like he was about to issue a parking citation. “You had a guest earlier? A woman. She tried to meet you in person, right here in the office.”

  I blinked, trying to figure out who the hell he was talking about. “Wait, someone came in here to see me? But I only...”

  Greg raised an eyebrow, not letting me finish. “Yeah. Some woman, apparently wanting more ‘tech support.’ We don’t do that kind of thing here, Daniel. You know that. We do phone tech support, not in-person tech support. You can’t be inviting your… acquaintances into the office.”

  I blinked again. Who the hell was this woman? I tried to think back to yesterday, but nothing came to mind. Unless?

  I must’ve looked confused, because Greg sighed, looking even more exasperated. “Was this some... family friend? Or, I don’t know, someone from outside? You’d better tell me now, because this feels like the beginning of a problem.”

  He said that, but it sounded more like curiosity than anger. “Uh, no idea who she is,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. Unless…

  “I mean... I just met one customer outside the office on my break yesterday. I didn’t even—”

  “You met this customer yesterday, and she came back for more of you?” Greg’s face twisted with disbelief. “Seriously? Someone like that wants to meet you?”

  I shrugged and tried not to take offense at what he was saying.

  “What, are you friends or...?” His voice trailed off, and I could hear the doubt in his tone. He didn’t believe for a second that someone like her—whoever she was—would be interested in a guy like me. That made two of us.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “I don’t know. I don’t get it either,” I muttered, now feeling more uncomfortable by the second. “She’s a... I think she’s a customer. I just helped her out with her phone yesterday, that’s all.”

  “I suppose it was off the clock, since you were on break…” Greg still didn’t seem convinced. “Well, next time, make sure she understands that this isn’t a place for face-to-face meetings. You’re here to do your job, not... whatever that was.”

  I nodded, feeling the pressure to get away from the conversation before I said anything else stupid. “Yeah, yeah. Got it, Greg.”

  With one last look, Greg finally left, but I could still feel the eyes on me as I sat down at my desk. The stares. The whispers. It was like the whole office had suddenly turned into a bizarre, judgmental circus.

  I tried to push it out of my mind and just focus on my work, but it was impossible. Every time I looked up, someone was glancing my way—eyes darting back to their screens like they weren’t just caught rubbernecking. I couldn’t figure it out. Was it Euryale? Had I made a huge fool of myself and someone posted about it on the work Slack?

  Even Greg had peeked his head out from his office, looking around with narrowed eyes like someone had forgotten to CC him on a potential scandal.

  My first break couldn’t come fast enough.

  I needed space—away from the weirdness, the attention, the uncomfortable buzzing sensation under my skin. Maybe a hot cup o’ noodles would fix my mood. Sanity, brought to you by Maruchan Instant Lunch. Nothing calms the nerves like suspicious powdered broth.

  I was halfway to the break room when I saw her.

  She was standing just inside, leaning against the doorframe like she’d posed for a noir poster and just decided to stay there. Her hair was wild, that perfect kind of chaotic that no one ever achieves on purpose. Her dark green blouse looked expensive, and her sharp blue eyes tracked me like I was prey she hadn’t decided whether to pounce on or toy with. Her posture screamed confidence—lazy, deliberate, dangerous. Like a lioness lounging in a cubicle jungle.

  I froze, almost tripping on the carpet tile. What the hell was she doing here?

  She looked too at-home. Too settled in. Like she belonged here. Like she owned the place.

  “Dan,” she purred, stepping forward. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

  My brain short-circuited. I imagined how other guys would melt into a puddle of hormones at that line. Me? I was mostly concerned that Greg would appear like a tax audit and start passive-aggressively quoting HR policy. My mouth went dry.

  “Uh... really? Is this about your phone again?”

  She tilted her head. “No. Not the phone. I’m here to see you. You’re... interesting.”

  That word again. Interesting. I was starting to hate it.

  I shifted awkwardly, avoiding her eyes like they were flashbangs. I zeroed in instead on the undone buttons of her blouse, and the third one below trying valiantly to hang on. Still safer than eye contact. I tried to think about anything else. Like the Pop-Tarts someone had left on the counter. Or taxes. Or literally anything that didn’t involve staring directly into her laser-beam gaze.

  She took another step forward, and something inside me snapped. Without thinking, I grabbed her elbow and gently pulled her out of view, around the corner of the break room and into the hall near the vending machines.

  “Hey!” she said, surprised but not resisting. Her eyes flashed—literally. A quick flare of gold that made my stomach flip. But there was something almost… playful in her expression. Like she liked that I had the nerve.

  I didn’t know what game she was playing, but I wasn’t interested in being checkmated. I squared my shoulders and tried to sound confident.

  “Look, I’m not looking for... a lady friend.”

  Her expression twitched. “Lady friend?”

  I winced. “I just mean—I work here. And I’m not interested. I don’t know what this is, but it’s not... me.”

  “Not interested?” she echoed, a little laugh slipping out like she didn’t believe the words were real. “You do realize this is the part where most people faint or offer me a drink?”

  “I’m not most people. I’m Daniel. And I’m asking you to leave. Cupcake.”

  “Cupcake?” Her tone was part outrage, part unholy glee. “You call all mysterious, beautiful women pastry names, or am I just special?”

  “Definitely special,” I said, stepping back. “But I’m not biting. I’ve got a lot on my plate already. Like reheated noodles and disappointing small talk with Greg.”

  At the mention of my supervisor, I instinctively glanced back toward the office hallway. I half-expected to see Greg lurking like a sentient paper jam, ready to scold me for “personal interactions in shared company spaces.” The man lived for passive disapproval.

  To my relief, no sign of him.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever been turned down before,” she said, folding her arms. Her smirk was catlike. Not seductive—predatory.

  “Then congrats,” I muttered, turning to leave. “Hope you kept the receipt.”

  God, why did I say that?

  I walked fast. Not a run. Just a speed-walk of dignity. I didn’t look back. Not until I did.

  She was still standing there. Her expression unreadable, biting her lower lip as if contemplating something dangerous. Something personal.

  And for some stupid reason, I felt bad. Like I’d just kicked a puppy. A really hot, supernatural puppy that might be here to wreck my life.

  Back at my desk, I sat down hard, ignoring the whispers and eyes that hadn’t stopped tracking me. My headset slid back into place, and I muttered something about needing a raise.

  I dug through my drawer, hoping my cup noodles had magically appeared. No luck. Just banana Laffy Taffy.

  “Gah!” I shook my head and put back on my headset.

  I answered my next call chewing loudly, a no-no, but whatever.