Chandler Novak is pretty well known. In true Bill Gates or Steve Jobs fashion, he began his own company in his garage right out of college. His story is one for the books, just like every smart guy out there who had a great idea but no money. No No Technologies is the company my boss started up with just an idea and a couple of bucks to spare. All he did was code a couple of games for independent creators and he became some type of hit. The name only became popular when he was able to find investors and now he's one of the top gaming companies in America. Anyone would be able to find corresponding articles anywhere. He's a young, handsome bachelor, after all.
And now, I work here and for the man of the story. Good faith and credentials have landed me here, and I will not screw it up. That's why, despite my excitement at seeing a shiny HP desktop in front of me, I'm doing work instead of gushing over such an expensive piece of technology. A brand new smartphone teases me, but I'm not downloading a thousand apps or games I never had a chance to play. And I'm for sure not jumping up and down at having a laptop I didn't have to pay for.
What I am doing is going through these codes like a champ, and noting down bugs. Each path seems to take me down some tricky and sloppy job. But I can't fault these people. Coding can be hard without the proper knowledge, and that's just an unfortunate fact.
By the time noon hits, my fingers are hurting from playing and fixing codes. Carpal tunnel feels as if it's going to be ready to set in at the end of my shift. My eyes burn from staring at tiny, black-printed numbers, avatars, and misspelled words. Even my mouth is dry from all the groaning I've done. But, again, coding is hard, so I can't fault anyone for making mistakes.
Pressing my hand to my forehead, I relish the brief break I'm taking. It's short-lived as someone clears their throat from in front of me. My neck almost breaks as I snap my head up to meet the eyes of my boss. He stands tall and confident, his hands placed into the pockets of his slacks. We stare at each other in silence for a moment too long for me.
"You can take your break now. You have an hour," he breaks the silence before walking away. A small smile forces its way onto my face at the call for break time.
Standing, I stretch and listen to the way my bones crack and groan. While focusing on loosening, I don't realize my name is being called until a small hand grabs my arm. Turning, I meet eyes with Amy, the perky receptionist on this floor. Her smile is dazzling as she watches me with expectance.
"Sorry?" I croak before clearing my throat to get rid of the frog. Amy giggles as an initial response and shakes her head.
"I asked if you wanted to grab lunch with me? I know this amazing sandwich place," she tells me, her eyes wide and excited.
For a moment, I freeze and contemplate what she's asking me to do. Looking at her voluminous red hair and smiling face, I wonder if she'll tell me this is all a practical joke. Maybe her expression will change and she'll tell me she would never actually want to talk to me. After a life of being near friendless, I can't help but naturally doubt her.
Suppressing a gag from my clenching stomach, I breathe and steel myself before nodding.
"Yeah, okay, sure," I mumble. Stumbling away from my chair, I grab my wallet and shove it into my pocket. "Okay, I'm ready."
Amy jumps for a moment, and I wonder how her ankles aren't burning in her shiny heels. She turns away from me and skips to her desk with incredible speed. At a much slower pace, I follow her, leaving the still hefty stack of papers behind. As we walk, I keep my distance. When she grabs her purse, she hurries up to me, bumping into my side. Already, I can feel how my cheeks heat up from the proximity. Grabbing my arm, Amy pulls me to the elevator.
"Oh my gosh, I'm starving," she mutters, pressing the ground floor button. I watch her as she leans back against the rail, pushing her hair off her shoulder.
A bare shoulder becomes revealed, showing smooth and milky skin. Gulping, I look away from her. Amy's sleeveless black blouse is nowhere near revealing, yet I can't help but become embarrassed at the sight. Her slim body appears more alluring than it should be. Nothing should be so effective as she's only leaning against a rail.
Our walk to the restaurant is quick, a lot faster than I thought it would be. Glowing blue is the first thing that catches my eye about the small building. 'Jessica's' sits bright and proud with cursive lettering. Pulling the door open, I hold it and wonder who the owner of the shop is. Maybe Jessica or a relative of Jessica. Either way, the smell of fresh cut meat and spices causes my stomach to rumble in pain. I wait for Amy to walk in first before I follow and step into the air-conditioned place. Amy struts past me and to the counter, immediately spouting off her order. By the looks of it, she comes here a lot. I, on the other hand, spend a hefty amount of time looking over the menu and deciding on a simple turkey sandwich with everything on it and the addition of honey mustard.
"Let's go sit. They'll call our name." Amy grabs my arm, pulling me towards a table. As she sits, she shoots me a small smile. "Tell me about yourself, Sutton." She grins, her bottom lip glistening with the pink gloss I'm assuming she applied earlier.
"Uh, I recently graduated from—" both names are called, causing me to roll my eyes. Standing, I go and grab our food.
My eyes trail over the healthy displays. Each sandwich is stacked nicely with meat and vegetables—two slices of honey oat bread hugging them. While Amy ordered chips with hers, I decided on celery and carrots. Salivation begins in my mouth as I imagine how refreshing the two vegetables will be.
Reaching the table again, I set the tray down and pass out Amy's food. Her pink manicured nails lightly scratch my hand as she grabs her grub.
"You know... I came from kind of a small town." Amy pauses as she pops a potato chip into her mouth. I don't have time to react to our similarity as she then says, "So, I never knew any gay people until I got to college."
I stop with my sandwich midway to my mouth as I take in what she's just said. Tilting my head to the side, I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Even when I try to come up with a plausible reason, I have no idea why Amy would admit that. Unless this is some form of a dysfunctional icebreaker.
"I've never had a gay best friend." She licks her lips and leans forward. "Since we work in the same office, we should definitely get together and hang out. Girls are honestly catty and just plain bitches. I don't have many friends."
Staring blankly at her, my face begins to burn. I open my mouth to speak, but she interrupts.
"Oh, my gosh! You're not still in the closet, are you? That is honestly so cute. Are you one of those guys who's like... overly gay?"
In an exaggerated reaction, I choke on my spit. Her words fly around my head, constantly repeating. Blinking, I set my sandwich down and lean back.
"Amy, I'm not gay."
***
A strangled groan leaves my body when I'm finally able to fall back on my bed. Almost immediately, my muscles relax, though the knot in my neck doesn't go away. Even then, the familiar surface under me is enough. Voluntarily, I close my eyes and allow myself to sink further into my bed. Even though my mattress is cheap and lumpy, it's nothing new to me. Still, I relish in the feelings of calm, even with an uncomfortable pallet.
Done with my moment, I force myself up. Stripping from my clothes at a leisurely pace, I take slow steps towards my connected bathroom. It's the only one in my apartment since it's a cheap, small one-bedroom.
When I turn the light on, it flickers for a moment before settling. Catching myself in the mirror, I study my light blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. The features look odd against my fair skin, like they're too light and blend in unnaturally. Because of my baby face, despite my adult age, I still appear like a young boy who's barely over fifteen.
Forcing my gaze from my reflection, I turn the shower on and step in. The cold water splashes my skin uncomfortably, causing my back to arch before it heats up. Sighing in relief, I savor the feeling of my tense muscles loosening. I drop my head forward and close my eyes. Then I wash my body.
I'm out in fifteen minutes. With a towel around my waist, I settle on my bed and grab my phone. Right now, there are only two people I'd like to talk to. Dialing my mom, I bite my lip as I realize it's Monday. She works late on Mondays. Instead of my mom, I call my brother.
"Hello?"
"Dee?" I speak into the receiver, a small smile growing on my face. There's shuffling on the other end.
"Little brother," my brother answers, his tone light and happy. "How's the big city?"
I can only describe Dustin Anstein as happy-go-lucky. He's always been one for a good time and with that comes a good mood. Unlike me, his popular outlook on everything granted him popularity throughout his adolescence and even now in his adulthood. That also put him in everyone's good graces. When Dustin found out our mom was struggling, he helped with no hesitation. While I was able to attend school on a full scholarship, Dustin was undeniably happy for me. There's not an evil bone in his body.
Smiling, I lay back on my bed. "Good. It's okay," I answer, closing my eyes for a moment.
"Uh oh. What's wrong, baby brother?" On the spot, Dustin picks up on the lie I've just told. I've never been good at lying, so it's easy for him. He knows me.
"I think I may be in over my head. My first day was... a lot more than I expected. Another person called me gay." I sigh in frustration, grinding my teeth together. It proves to be a bad idea as the pressure causes a headache to form.
Dustin chuckles and the sound crackles for a moment. "That's life, Sutton. It's the real world now. There's no trial like in school. Your first day is meant to be hard. Getting through it is how you know you're going to be alright."
I purse my lips before I sigh once again, this time in defeat. Dustin is right. It's only been one day, and it's not going to get any easier if I only cry about it and give up.
"You're right. Hey, how's mom?"
"She's good!" Dustin then goes on to talk about both their days before our mom had to return to work for the night, having had a pleasant lunch together beforehand. With a goodnight on both our sides, our call ends.
Shaking my head, I grab my towel from my waist and run it through my hair before standing up. Letting the rough fabric fall to the ground, I switch the light off and climb into bed.