Disclaimers:
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities between the characters in this story and real people (appearances, names, etc.) are purely coincidental. This story may contain homosexual material, including love and sex, so if material like this is illegal in your region or if it discomforts you, please leave.
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The telephone rang, so Nic Georgiou stopped typing his boss' itinerary and picked up the receiver, "Talia Kettilon's office."
"Hey, Nic, it's Naya," the caller greeted kindly enough. "Lawrence needs to speak with Talia. And he's pissed."
Nic quirked his perfect, thick brow, and responded, "Sure. I'll transfer you."
"Quickly, please," Naya begged softly. "I've already been yelled at three times. And it's only eight-thirty here."
Nic quickly pressed the Hold button, the Intercom button, and said, "Talia, I have Lawrence McEli on line two."
His boss replied boredly, "Go ahead and transfer him, Nic. Thank you."
So Nic quickly transferred the phone call, and took a disinfecting wipe out of his desk drawer to sterilize the receiver. He then went back to typing Talia's itinerary for their upcoming business trip to Los Angeles.
Fifteen minutes later, as Nic was checking hotel confirmations online, a woman wearing a FedEx uniform showed up.
"Hi," the woman brightly greeted while beginning to sit the flat box down on the desk. "I have--"
"No!" Nic shouted in alarm. "Sorry. I- I have O.C.D. so would you- would you mind sitting the package on that little table there?"
"Okay..." the woman responded, slightly alarmed, but walked the four feet to the small square table. "Didn't mean to trigger you."
Nic smiled as genuinely as he could while breathing steadily, and told her, "It's fine. You're not the- the usual FedEx deliverer."
"I'm Winona," the woman introduced herself kindly. "This is my new route. I replaced Carl, who is moving."
Nic slipped a pair of white polyethylene gloves on and signed for the package and thanked the young woman. After he handed her the tablet back, Nic removed the white polyethylene gloves and tossed them in the trash. He donned a new pair from his desk drawer along with a tub of dry disinfectant wipes. He went over to the small table and used three wipes to completely clean the package.
"Nic," Talia's voice came through the telephone intercom, "can you get me headshots of our ginger-redhead girls?"
Nic ran to his desk, pressed the intercom, and replied, "You got it."
Nic sat the cleaned box on his desk and opened a drawer of his filing cabinet. He grabbed a folder, because he kept model headshots organized by age, gender, ethnicity, hair colour, eye colour, body types, clothing sizes, height, and models with tattoos. Due to the number of folders, Nic had had to make copies of headshots to categorize them in any folders each model fit into.
Just as Nic stood from his chair with the redhead girls folder and the FedEx box in hand, Talia's voice asked, "And the ginger boys, too, please."
Nic grabbed said folder and took everything into Talia's office. She had her telephone pressed against her face, listening to whomever was on the line, and mouthed, 'Lunch'.
Nic left the woman's office and ordered her lunch from one of her favourite restaurants Winnemaiar. After doing so, he confirmed a town car and driver in Los Angeles.
"We need more gingers," Talia said with frustration. "Can you put together an open casting call for March sixth? I am looking for natural gingers between the ages of fifteen and thirty."
"Sure thing," Nic responded. "As for the executive meetings, everything is booked and confirmed; flights, hotels, the car, the driver, and attendees."
"You're amazing, Nic."
Though her tone was stoic, flat, Nic knew that Talia appreciated his hard work.
Nic began typing an advertisement for an open casting call. He was nearly done, was typing the address, when his cell phone vibrated with a text message.
Nic placed his cell phone down on the desk and resumed work. Fifteen minutes later, Kalvin from Winnemaiar showed up. Kalvin knew about Nic's O.C.D. so he just patiently waited while Nic ran into the kitchen for a plate, a glass, and some cutlery. Of course, as you may have guessed, each item was inside its own plastic bag.
When Nic brought Talia her grilled chicken breast and steamed broccoli, she asked, "Did you post the open casting call?"
"I posted it on the website, message boards, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and some model recruitment sites."
"Good," Talia responded with a nod. "Thank you. Why don't you go for lunch?"
"And last question!" Professor Elia Coraj called from the front of the classroom. "Assets minus liabilities equals net worth! Following that equation, Company ABC123's net worth is four hundred twenty-nine thousand seven hundred thirty-five dollars and eleven cents!
"Pass the quiz back its owner and take a look at your scores! Did you do well? For those who got scores of sixty or less, I highly recommend that you attend Ryan Sallinger's tutoring class! His schedule is posted on the door!"
Aiden McCriskell looked down at his quiz and smiled. Written in big, bold font was a '95%' in blue ink. He had gotten a single question wrong, which he wasn't mad about.
"So who has read ahead to chapter nine!?" Prof. Coraj called.
Most of the four dozen Columbia University students raised their hands. One of which was Aiden. He then drove his fingers through his soft locks to get that tuft of wavy orange hair off his forehead.
Prof. Coraj went on, "So now that we've worked on assets and liabilities, we move on to detailed income statements! We have touched on revenues and expenses before! Now we really dig in! Revenues minus expenses equals net income, correct!? Who can give me an example of a type of revenue besides product and/or service sales!?"
Again, a lot of hands went up, including Aiden's. The professor chose some girl, who called, "Interest revenue!"
"Good! What might build interest in favour of a company or a business? You!"
The professor pointed at Aiden, whose deep, velvety voice called, "A credit bill!"
"Excellent! Who can give me an example of a credit bill other than a credit card or a bank account!?"
Aiden's accounting class went on for another hour or so. He typed notes, swiped a pink highlighter across words in his textbook, and wrote side notes in the textbook.
At the end of the class, which was his last for the day, Aiden's friend Owen Halliday asked, "My friend Gordie invited a few people of us to his parents' cabin out in the Adirondacks if you wanna come?"
"When?" Aiden asked as he packed his backpack.
"We leave Friday afternoon," Owen answered. "It's, like, a four hour drive or something. Coming back on Sunday evening."
"I'll have to see if I can take the time off work," Aiden responded hopefully. "Would be nice to relax in a cabin in the woods. Who'll be there?"
"Me and Kristi, Reg and Veronica, and Gordie."
After thinking it over for a second, Aiden replied, "So you guys don't want Gordie to be the only single guy there? He invited you guys, so why invite couples?"
Owen smiled awkwardly, and answered, "Okay, so Gordie may or may not have asked about you. He doesn't know that I'm inviting you."
"I didn't even know that he was bi," Aiden stated with amusement. "He should have the balls to ask me out himself."
"Whatever, man," Owen said with a smile. "Come. Don't come. But I think you and Gordie would look good together."
Aiden laughed and asked, "Yeah? Straight boys think about how single their gay friends are often?"
"When they're desperately single, yes," Owen teased, and laughed.
Aiden laughed sarcastically, and stated, "I gotta get to work. I'll text you if I can get the time off."
Aiden climbed into his 1998 Ford truck and took off. He got to the house that Winland Construction & Electrical was renovating. He took the tool box out of the bed of the truck and went into the luxury home.
"Hey," Aiden's boss Mike Winland greeted from a table where he was looking over blueprints. "We finished the drywall installation in the basement this morning. We're going for lunch so you can start taping and painting down there. After that, we'll be tearing this cabinetry down and installing the new ones. How was school?"
"School was good," Aiden answered. "Got a ninety-five on an accounting quiz and a ninety-six on an economics paper."
"That's great, Kid," Mike complimented genuinely. "Gotta tell ya, when I interviewed you, I was hesitant about hiring you. Putting yourself through uni while already working at the Marriott, I thought you working two jobs would make you fail your classes. But you're kicking ass, Kid."
"Well thanks for hiring me, Mike. I really appreciate it. I'm kinda struggling now so I can't imagine how hungry I'd be now without this job."
"Well you're a smart kid," Mike stated. "You would've figured something out. But I have good news. I did your six-month performance appraisal last night. I'm giving you a two dollar raise. Which puts you at earning nineteen an hour."
Smiling giddily, Aiden responded, "Damn, really?"
"You earned it, Kid. I've never hired a boy straight out of high school but you're working better than a lot of the guys here. I never have to worry about scrutinizing your work, no matter how quickly you work."
Aiden laughed in disbelief and utter happiness, and hugged his boss. He was so thankful.
Mike patted Aiden's back in the hug and said, "Get changed and get to work. We'll be back in an hour."
As Aiden stripped himself of his sweater and tee in favour of an old, ratty one, three of his coworkers came up from the basement with bags of old insulation for disposal.
Aiden worked diligently. He taped the trims, the wall corners, the ceiling, the door frames, and the fireplace. By the time his boss and coworkers got back from lunch, Aiden had painted the first coat of azure blue paint on the two largest walls.
Together, all five men finished painting the first coat of all three rooms in the basement within a half hour. They finished the second and final coat in an hour.
It took them another hour to tear apart and uninstall the old cabinets in the main floor kitchen, and Mike told Aiden to have his lunch break. So Aiden ate his turkey sandwich as the others began assembling the new cabinets of black cherry oak. He read an email as he ate.
Aiden clicked the hypertext, which opened his web browser. As he read the ad, his stomach became littered with butterflies. He fit the criteria, and he had nine days to get his toned body into amazing shape for the open casting call.
"Hey, Mike!" Aiden called. "I know I just got a raise, but I need some time off!"
Mike joking called back from the kitchen, "What!? The whole weekend!?"
"Yes!" Aiden answered. "Seriously! Some friends are going to a cabin in the Adirondacks!"
"Well go ahead, Kid!" Mike called. "You deserve a weekend! I can ask Sam or Matt to cover for you!"
"I still have to ask the Marriott! So if they don't gimme the time off I'll cancel! I'll text you later!"
Another seven hours later, Aiden walked into the Marriott hotel. He greeted his coworker Charlotte Tilessy at the front desk with a kind smile and a quick 'Hello' as he walked into the employee lounge. His supervisor Vivien Gendow had been working at the manager's office computer when he walked into the room.
"What are you still doing here?" Aiden asked, not unkindly.
"Jason quit," Vivien answered while still typing. "I've been altering the schedule, getting an employment ad out, and I'm almost done typing Jason's employment details for H.R. to put together employment record."
Alarmed, Aiden asked, "God, I hope I'm not working on March sixth."
"Let's see," Vivien responded and opened the new schedule on the computer. "Umm... nope. You're not working on the sixth. Why? Got a date or something?"
"Nope," Aiden replied as he took his tee shirt off. "Open casting call for Kleinhart. I still have modelling dreams."
"Well best of luck," Vivien said with a warm smile.
Aiden grabbed his white dress shirt from his locker and asked, "Mind if I find people to cover for me this weekend? A friend invited me to a cabin trip."
"I don't mind it if you can find coverage for your shifts," Vivien responded. "Here's the new schedule so you can see who might be available."
After looking at the schedule, Aiden opened a group text with his other coworkers Shannon Merlew, Maria Vasques, and Jordan Garabuyk asking if any of them would be available to take his shifts on Friday and Sunday.
It was while Aiden was slipping his dress pants on that his phone vibrated. Jordan would take his Sunday shift and Shannon would take his Friday shift. He was ecstatic.
Out at the front desk, Charlotte told the redhead, "The couple who reserved room five-fourteen should be checking in at eleven because of a flight delay, so be prepared for pissy attitudes.
"Keep an eye on room six-twenty-one, they're drunk. The neighbours complained about it so I called to ask them to keep the noise down and then sent security up to deliver a last warning.
"Room four-eleven may or may not check out tomorrow because they're stand-by's for their flight. I've put them on a tentative reservation.
"Room two-sixteen was caught smoking in the room so he paid the smoking charge, but I gave him a final warning.
"I think that's all. I am outta here. I am more tired than... something that's always tired."
Aiden laughed softly, and told her, "Alright, get outta here. Thanks."
The phone rang, so Aiden warmly answered it, "The Marriott front desk."
A woman's voice responded, "Oh. Sorry, I meant to dial room service."
"Not a problem, miss. I can transfer you if you wish."
"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."
"Hope you continue to enjoy your evening, miss."
Nic got to Albright & Fitzroy, a towering building near Times Square, at seven-thirty, a whole hour before his work day began, as usual. He parked in his spot on the main floor, and went into the main lobby.
He threw a kind smile at the reception personnel and greeted, "Morning, Adam. Morning, Jess. Morning, Cecile."
"Morning," the two receptionists and the security guard greeted warmly.
Nic took the elevator to the thirty-second floor, and took his pack of disinfectant wipes out of his messenger bag. Nic wiped his chair, his desk, every drawer handle, and the telephone. He then took the dry disinfectant wipes to clean his office computer. It took him about fifty minutes to clean everything.
After he sat in his chair, Nic stared blankly at the computer keyboard. This was one of those few times a year in which he was tired. He was tired of disinfecting. He was tired of keeping every single item crazy organized and just so.
He was tired of O.C.D.. He was tired of having this disease, as much as he loathed to admitting it to himself- really admitting that he had it.
"Good morning, Nic," Talia greeted blandly as she walked in.
Nic hurriedly wiped the tear from his cheekbone and replied, "Morning, Talia."
Talia's high heels clicked and clacked on the hardwood floors as she called, "No breakfast this morning. Just make sure that Rayoko is confirmed for lunch. Thank you."
Nic stepped right up to calling Lime Tree and cancelling Talia's scheduled breakfast delivery. Normally the restaurant would fuss and whine about a cancellation when their cooks were already cooking the meal, but nobody messed with Talia Kettilon. Nobody.
Nic then called Rayoko Omaga's assistant to confirm the lunch. Nic was happy to hear that Rayoko had her full day's schedule on her cell phone, so he went into the employee lounge and disinfected the espresso machine and Talia's mug. He made her her usual sugar-free vanilla latte with skim milk.
"He will be there A.S.A.P.," Talia said into her phone receiver as Nic walked into her office. "Thank you, Beth."
"Here is your latte," Nic stated pleasantly. "Rayoko is confirmed for lunch, and I am about to start on your schedule for fashion week."
Talia nodded patiently, and then asked, "Do you know who I just got off the phone with, Nic?"
"Umm... no."
"That was Doctor Beth Anne Lymin," Talia responded. "She came highly recommended to me by Dr. Ofric, who helped me so much during mine and Henry's divorce way back when. Dr. Lymin specializes in trauma patients, and behavioural therapy."
Nic's stomach tightened. No, butterflies appeared inside. No, it churched. Perhaps all three happened all at once.
Talia carried on, "I just made an appointment for you. You are expected there at nine o'clock."
Tears misted Nic's hazel eyes, and he asked, "Wha- why? I'm- I'm fine. Talia, I promise I'm fine."
Talia smiled sadly at her subordinate, and replied, "Nic, you're not fine. I can see that. You've been working for me for, what, twenty-two months. I know when you're fine- completely okay. Today, you're not okay. You haven't been okay for quite some time. And it's okay not to be okay."
"But- but I- I have so much--"
"--I'll be fine on my own this morning," Talia patiently stated. "I checked with H.R., and therapy is covered by your medical benefits. So no money will come out of your pocket. Take the rest of the morning off after your session, and be back at one o'clock."
Nic accepted a Post-It from Talia. Written on it was Dr. Lyman's office address. Nic stared at with his stomach churning his omelette and orange juice.
"Go," Talia commanded while dialling a number on her phone.
Nic reluctantly left. He quickly wiped his car seat, steering wheel, and shift lever. He normally would have scrubbed his car ridiculously clean, but he didn't that time because he'd used his car just an hour and a half prior.
At Dr. Lyman's office, Nic slipped a fresh pair of polyethylene gloves and went inside. He introduced himself to the receptionist/assistant, and she told him that the doctor was ready. So Nic opened the door to the office.
"Nic?" Dr. Lymin asked with a soft smile. "Hi. How are you? Take a seat."
Dr. Lymin gestured toward the luxurious-looking brown leather lounge. Nic didn't offer the therapist a reply, but rather took his pack of wipes out of his bag. He first scrubbed the arm, he made sure to wipe every single square millimetre of the leather.
Nic smiled to himself upon disinfecting the arm. So he moved on to wiping the entire length of the backrest. As he studiously cleaned, the doctor sat patiently, and occasionally scribbled a note.
"I'm afraid we're out of time," Dr. Lymin stated softly.
Confused, Nic replied, "What do you mean? I just- I'm still disinfecting the lounge. We haven't..."
Dr. Lymin smiled sympathetically, brushed a lock of her silver hair from her face, and responded, "Well, the therapeutic hour is fifty minutes, and you just spent forty-eight of them disinfecting the sofa lounge. It's clear that you have a severe case of obsessive-compulsive disorder."
"Re-really?" Nic asked, tears gathered in his saddened hazel eyes
Dr. Lymin nodded slowly and stated, "O.C.D. is a very treatable condition. A combination of medication and behavioral therapy will give you some relief from those feelings of panic that you might feel if, say, you feel the need to count the bowl of fruit to make sure that you have enough to last the week."
"I have enough," Nic suddenly commented. "I counted this morning. I could use some more oranges, but Saturday's is my grocery run day."
Dr. Lymin sympathetically said, "There's a stigma in this country about mental illness. I mean, depression, anxiety, O.C.D., bipolar... they're hard to diagnose so people don't always appreciate that they're serious problems, but they are."
"I've tried going to therapy multiple, multiple times in the past," Nic said and sniffled. "It's- it's never helped before. And I don't- I don't wanna start popping pills just so I can turn into someone that other people want me to be. This is how I am. This is who I'm supposed to be.
"Your illness is not who you're supposed to be, Nic," Dr. Lymin replied sternly yet softly. "It's keeping you from who you're supposed to be. If a potential model isn't signed to the agency because they are bipolar, would you suggest they take lithium, or would you tell them, 'Hey, this is just who you are meant to be'?
"I am prescribing you citalopram, which is an S.S.R.I. that will help the grasping of serotonin that your brain already makes. It will also help with your dissociative identity disorder. Yes, Talia has told me about that.
"I would also like to see you on Saturday's at two o'clock. And here is a challenge for you; when you come in four days from now, try to leave your bag and wipes in your car."
Aiden, after driving for four-and-a-half hours, pulled into the large logwood cabin belonging to John and Mary Duronko. He got out of his truck and smiled, excited for a weekend of relaxation.
"Come on!" Kristi McGill called. "Help us unload!"
Aiden grabbed the box of groceries from his back seat, and then grabbed a duffle bag from the back of Owen's S.U.V. to bring into the cabin. Inside, the group of six college freshman set the three bags of groceries on the kitchen counters and ran upstairs to choose from the three bedrooms.
It was natural that Gordie got the master bedroom, but Aiden had to go back downstairs to put his own bag in the main floor bedroom.
Aiden went out the back door with Gordie and Reginald Cormier. The three young men used a manual-crank pump to get gasoline from the barrel into the gasoline tank, and then another pump to get fuel from the barrel into the fuel tank. Aiden had gotten fuel on his gloves and coat, and some had soaked through. Gordie told him that he'd be free to use the shower once the water heater was bled and running.
After showering, Aiden joined his friends back in the kitchen where Reg and Veronica were cooking something while laughing. Owen was sitting on the kitchen island with Kristi, and had been whispering something in her ear. He didn't feel like being the sixth wheel, as Gordie was already the fifth wheel sitting on the countertop by the refrigerator. So Aiden grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went to the living room. He leant against the sill of the large window, and appreciated the sight of the setting sun in the bare trees.
Aiden heard footsteps approaching, and Gordie's soothing voice said, "I- umm... nobody told me that they invited you."
Aiden turned his head slightly with a smile, and responded, "Owen told me about it on Wednesday. I told him that you should've told me about this trip yourself. But I'm guessing Kristi or Ronnie told him to invite me."
Gordie laughed unabashedly before he replied, "I'd guess so. But I'm glad you're here."
Aiden blushed hotly, and said back, "Me, too."
Aiden softly swept the brown fringe from Gordie's forehead. Their eyes connected and locked for a moment, a moment in which Aiden's breath shallowed. Gordie leant forward, and their lips connected in a sweet kiss.
After the kiss, Aiden giggled and said, "A kiss before a date? Why, Mr. Duronko..."
Gordie's smile faltered, and he said, "A- a date? I- uhh... I'm not looking for a relationship. This- this was gonna be a weekend fling. At most. Sorry. I guess Owen misunderstood."
Aiden's orange eyebrows rose up, and he responded, "Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I guess he did."
"But would you be up for a weekend fling?" Gordie asked hopefully, and touched his hand to Aiden's side.
Aiden kissed Gordie again with no warning. He felt the brunette smile in the kiss, and placed his palm over the back of Gordie's neck.
After the heated kiss, Aiden stated, "I'm the top this weekend."
"We'll see about that."
Aiden took that as a challenge. He reacquainted his lips with Gordie's, and slid his big hands inside the shorter man's jeans. Aiden gave the bubble butt a firm squeeze. Gordie moaned inside the kiss and held onto Aiden tighter.
Nic got to the office at eight-twenty, fifty minutes later than he was used to. It was a challenge to him to leave his apartment at eight o'clock rather than his usual seven-ten. But having attempted just that five times before and failed, it felt good to him. Good and scary, anxious.
This, though, was another challenge; doing absolutely no disinfecting. It was a whole other game. Seeing the un-disinfected chair and desk and computer was enough to set his teeth in edge.
Nic closed his eyes and thought to himself, 'You just had your thirty milligram Celexa two hours ago. You are fine. You are fine.'
"Good morning," Talia said tiredly. "Rush my breakfast. Had this huge fight with Victor this morning, so I haven't eaten a single thing. And hurry with the damned coffee."
Talia had already reached her office, so Nic didn't get a chance to greet her back or reply in any way. He flinched slightly as he picked up his office phone to call Miss Ynthal to rush Talia's breakfast.
Because he was rushing, Nic had no chance to disinfect the espresso machine before he made his boss' latte. But whatever, he'd deal with it when he was in the privacy of his own home. Or in the employee bathroom, when he spews the contents of his stomach out.
Talia was on the telephone when Nic sat her latte down on her desk. He exited the office right quick to get the plate and utensils ready for the arrival of Talia's breakfast.
Nic could not fight the urge to disinfect the dishes. He used a dry disinfecting wipe and the Miss Ynthal delivery man arrived just as Nic made it back to his desk.
After Nic had brought the plate of eggs benedict to Talia, he picked his phone up off his desk.
Tears prickled at Nic's hazel eyes. But he inhaled deeply and shook off the funk. Nic took out a stack of model contracts and took dates out of those for a spreadsheet on model work scheduling.
Talia's voice said through the intercom, "Can you tell Rayoko that I'll be ready to go to the casting call in about fifteen minutes?"
Aiden had thought that he left for Three of Us studios early enough, had hoped that he'd be in the first hundred potential models. But when he got to the building, there were at least four hundred potential models lined up in the lobbies and waiting room.
And the guys were gorgeous, as were the girls but he couldn't help but to appreciate some of the redheaded males. But he also became intimidated, and self-conscious. Damn, he wished he that jawline.
Aiden stood in line for nearly three hours. He chatted with a couple of other potential models some, and shared a few laughs. It made the time pass quicker, but did nothing to lessen the nerves he felt all over his body.
And then the guy wearing a headset and holding a clipboard took the next ten potential models into the giant room. One of those was Aiden. On the floor were the numbers one through ten on the floor using green tape in a perfect line. He and the others stood in front of each number, the headset guy collected their headshots.
Sitting at a long table were three women and one man. The one man was... gorgeous! He was obviously younger than two of the women he knew to be Talia Kettilon and Rayoko Omaga, two of New York's biggest model agents working for one of the biggest agencies in the world. But the young man... Aiden could hardly resist the urge to glance at him as he stood in line.
Aiden watched the olive-skinned man sweep his bright hazel eyes slowly over the line of models. Aiden blushed slightly when the man stared at him. Though the look was fleeting, it lasted just a moment, Aiden fidgeted in his stance.
Talia and Rayoko and the olive-skinned man huddled together and shared whispered words. Aiden became even more anxious, and so much more self-conscious. He thought that perhaps he should've worn the red polo shirt rather than the black. Perhaps he shouldn't have gelled his orange hair back.
"Number five," the olive-skinned man's deep, velvety voice called.
Aiden swallowed the lump in his throat and asked, "Yes?"
Rayoko said in her slight Japanese accent, "We would like to see what you look like in a suit. Can you go to the rack and change?"
Aiden got his hopes up. He fought the victorious smile because his signing to the agency was not guaranteed, and he didn't want to seem cocky. He went over to the other side of the room where there were two sets of racks of clothing. Another assistant helped him choose a navy blue three-piece suit. He kept glancing at the agents as he changed. They all remained surveying the other models and whispering to each other.
Before Aiden could even finish tying the red neck tie, the olive-skinned man called, "That is all! You can all leave! Including you, Mr. McCriskell! Thank you all!"
That instantly crushed any shred of hope that Aiden had. His stomach dropped, and his heart shattered. He changed back into his black polo and blue skinny jeans and left the room. Before he started the engine of his truck, he wiped the lone tear from his eye.
To Be Continued...
Thank you so much for reading! I sincerely hope that you enjoyed this first chapter and continue to join me on this journey.
If you are interested in reading my other fictions, they're listed down below:
The Trick is to Keep Breathing
tyler.christopher36@yahoo.com