Page 5 of Fangs with Benefits

The man who I’m supposed to mentor is none other than the man who thought a beach hat and sunglasses at 8.20 a.m. was appropriate. I don’t know shit about star charts, but in this instance, I blame mine for this.

The man looks normal now, wearing an obviously new suit with equally fresh, shiny black shoes. He’s got a coat, a scarf, and that damn hat laid over his forearm. He also carries a neon green water bottle, which really conflicts with the whole First Day At My Fancy New Job thing he has going on.

A huge smile takes over his face and, as if this can’t get any worse, he’s kind of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in real life. He’s got a strong nose, a sharper jaw, and floppy, brown prince hair that looks so effortlessly coiffed, it must’ve taken him an hour to get right. His shoulders are wider than Ryan’s and, as a categorically tall woman myself at five foot nine, I resent that if I was standing right in front of him I would have to crane my head back to meet his eye.

‘It’s you!’ he says.

I turn to Ryan without responding. ‘Sorry, Ryan, can I steal you for a quick sidebar?’

Ryan smiles because he is obsessed with his team adopting the kind of corporate lingo that makes me Want To Die.

‘Sure thing. Be right back,’ he tells the man.

I offer a polite-ish nod with no eye contact, then follow Ryan down the hall.

‘You heard the good news?’ Ryan talks like he thinks this is summer camp instead of a boring job at a company with middling pay and worse benefits.

‘The buddy thing?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Yes, actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. You know I’m glad to train another new employee, but I was talking to Kenneth, and he wouldn’t ever say this because he doesn’t want to come off as ungrateful–you know how he is–but he totally wants to be the new guy’s buddy.’

‘Shoot.’ Ryan nods. ‘Hadn’t even thought of him.’

‘Right. Well, you know. Not too late. I think this will give him the opportunity to really… rise to the occasion.’

Ryan scrunches his nose, which confounds me, so I scrunch mine in return.

‘Molly,’ he starts, like he’s about to let me down easy. He pats a clammy hand on my bicep, and I try not to wince. I hate when he touches my arm like we’re friends–we are not. He’s a bad manager, and he’s always talking about how great it is that I’ve been able to pivot to a career in tech after my arts degree.

Most days, I hate him barely less than I hate Kenneth.

If I’d gotten that promotion, I wouldn’t report to him any more. My resentment for the new guy grows by the second.

‘There’s no need to be nervous,’ Ryan says.

He’s right, I have no reason to be nervous, seeing that I’ve done this twice before. It is an intense effort to keep my eye from twitching.

‘You’re going to do great. Plus, nothing shows the higher-ups that you’re a team player like welcoming a new team member.’

A team player.

Who picks up the slack on overdue IT tickets when the rest of the team is making fantasy football brackets? Who doesn’t give up after a whole two troubleshooting attempts when we’re having server problems? Who stayed all night and single-handedly set up all the C-Suite’s new laptops while the rest of the team went to a trivia night?

‘Just be friendly, yeah?’ Ryan asks.

If my mind could create laser beams, he would be incinerated. Maybe I’d get lucky and hit Kenneth too, leaning back in his chair and watching this exchange with a red Twizzler hanging out of his mouth. He probably can’t hear us, but I know he’s eating it up all the same.

‘Yeah,’ I agree.

I put on as nice a smile as I can, nothing as sweet as Devi’s, but it does the trick because Ryan pats my arm one more time and turns away from me. I don’t look at Kenneth, but I do flip him off as I follow Ryan to the new guy’s office.

My new coworker is sitting with both hands braced on his desk like the desk chair might go out from under him at any moment. He has the same concerned look I saw when he was studying the door this morning, a crease between in his sharp, dark brows. Without the hat, he really does have hair like ’90s Leonardo DiCaprio. It looks soft and a loose strand rests on his forehead like fucking Clark Kent.

Admittedly, the guy is hot as hell and smiling makes it worse, his skin wrinkling at the sides of his eyes. He’s the kind of handsome that’s deeply suspicious to me. My dislike for him continues to grow.

‘There he is,’ Ryan says, like they’re old frat brothers. Maybe they are. ‘Elijah, I want you to meet Molly. Molly is an absolute tech wizard on the team, really sharp. We call her with all the high-level stuff.’