[6] Atty's Dilemma

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Jay is so exhausted by the time we get back, he falls asleep before his head even hits the pillow. Me, on the other hand, I've got energy to spare. I was hoping to loosen up a bit at Mason's but Will had to rear his ugly face.

In the guest bedroom- my temporary room, I wrestle with the zipper on my dress. This thing was fine when I put it on earlier, but hours of sweat has caused the material to stick to my skin. I keep shimmying around and eventually manage to slip out and change into a comfortable pair of shorts instead.

It's only after I've snuggled into a cozy bliss that my stomach sends out that sharp pain. Right, I haven't had anything to eat yet. Maybe I should head to the kitchen? But the bed is so warm.

One loud grumble later I'm out of bed, ready to scavenge. I quietly exit the room and creep down the hall on my tiptoes. The light coming from underneath Atty's office door makes me stop right in the middle.

Is he still awake? At 1:30?

Carefully, I tap my knuckles against the white wood. From the other side I hear a muffled response which I can only guess means come in so I do. I gingerly push open the door and shuffle in.

I know it's not realistic, but since it's Atty's office, I was expecting more of a sinister dungeon vibe. Instead, what I'm met with is a pretty standard work space. It's a small room with a heavy desk to the left piled with stacks of papers and multiple monitors, and several plush seats on the right. The back wall is a floor to ceiling built-in bookshelf decked with all variety of literature, though a significant amount is programming related.

My favorite part, however, is the small bay window to the right, with soft white curtains hanging loosely above the blue cushion.

Atty's at his desk, hunched over the keyboard. He hasn't said a word yet, he's completely engrossed in whatever's on his multiple screens. I round the table to stand directly in front of him and honestly, he looks kind of cute, almost. His fingers are folded and perched against his lip, chin resting on his palm. Taking up a majority of his face are black thick rimmed glasses. And of course, his ink black hair is a complete mess.

I relax into the seat across his desk, bringing my knees up to my chest. Atty shifts in his spot, then glides to the bookshelf and picks up a thick text from the programming selection.

Immediately my eyes are drawn to the flash of skin from his lower half. Wow, he's wearing shorts. I chuckle and let out a low whistle. He instantly stands upright, head whipped towards me.

"Did you just... catcall?" he asks slowly.

I nod, eyes visibly roaming over his legs. No need to be ashamed when admiring something beautiful. And those legs, god they're beautiful.

"And now you're checking out my legs."

"And your butt," I add.

He gasps, pretending to be all exasperated, but I don't miss his lingering gaze on my own legs.

"Big deal, it's not like you didn't just check out my legs," I say.

He smirks and retorts, "and your butt." Then he puts the book down and sinks into the indigo beanbag chair beside him. "Why're you still up?"

"Couldn't sleep. What about you?"

"I have work to finish."

"What do you do anyways?" Probably something in tech, judging from his bookshelf.

"I'm a video game designer." His response is short and frank, but I'm floored by it. Video games? That's the coolest thing I've ever heard.

Then something occurs to me. "How old are you?"

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