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Standing out like a boner at a pool party isn't something you'd want on your first day of work

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Standing out like a boner at a pool party isn't something you'd want on your first day of work.

That truth comes to me as I rush into the building, surrounded by somber-looking business men and women. With all those very serious, very professional people, I feel like an awkward teenager again--lost, confused, and underdressed. But I'm essentially wearing the standard programmer's attire, so it should be fine. The drawing of the Hulk with a massive "HULK SMASH!" printed on my T-shirt aren't that bad, right?

Shit, they might fire me before I even reach my desk.

With a nervous energy buzzing inside me, I let myself be guided by the crowd of lawyers, traders, and other suit-wearing people walking through the lobby.

When I reach the elevators, I rush to the one that's the closest to this floor. From the second sublevel to here, it shouldn't take long to arrive. I'm not the only pragmatic person here, as many people soon join me in my wait for the doors to open.

The stainless steel panels part with an elegant 'ding,' and everyone rushes into it at once. Since I'm on the front line, I'm unceremoniously pushed inside, barely having time to glimpse at the few people already in there. Miraculously, I manage to press the button for my floor before being shoved further into the confined space.

As the angry mob keeps pushing me in, I can't even glimpse at the person I'm about to bump into. Then, just as I successfully stop before that happens, an elbow is shoved into my back. I'm pushed against the stranger, and my hand instinctively reaches up to secure my balance. Maybe the solid plane of a stomach isn't the best way to level myself, but there is no other option. That's when I realize it's a man; a very fit man.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble as I remove my hands, quickly glimpsing up at him. He doesn't even bother looking down, but his face distracts me from that fact.

Shit.

He's hot.

Like, damn...

Before I can properly take in his features, other than the intense eyes, square jaw, dark hair, and stubble, I'm pushed onto him again, probably by the same elbow. Goddamn, that is one muscular chest.

"Will you stop shoving, please?" I frustratedly ask, twisting around the best I can. Then I mumble to myself, "People have no notion of personal space."

"They don't."

That comes from the sexy stranger against me. Of course, his voice is alluring as well. Low, a little husky, as though he just woke up. Who the fuck is this man?

His eyes are on me this time, but they don't stay there for long, and he quickly looks ahead again. Finally, the doors close, and gravity increases as we rise to the upper floors, providing little distraction from the warm body I'm flushed against.

"I'm sorry for being in yours," I say with a wince. "Personal space, I mean."

With a barely perceptible shrug, he answers a vague, "It's fine."

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