Ding.

The elevator doors slid open and Luka Moreno bounced out, a ray of sunshine flooding the dim reception area. He paused when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored ‘Breakpoint Advertising’ sign on the wall, straightening the collar of his checkered dress shirt. It peeked out from beneath his purple sweater and matched his navy trousers. His honey-toned skin was glowing. He grinned at his reflection. Sometimes, he just killed it.

A rhythm thrummed through his veins as he strutted down the hallway, drumming the beat on his thigh. His first stop was his best friend’s office. He poked his head in. “Morning, gorgeous.”

Tawney looked up from her desk where she was highlighting a report, markers in three different colors clutched in her hand. “Hey, cutie.”

He blew her a kiss and continued down the hall, throwing a smile at the adorable rumpled sandy-haired hottie from IT. He didn’t pause to say hi, though, because Luka was fairly certain that particular hottie was straight, and, even if he wasn’t, Luka was not going to date anyone from work. Not again, anyway.

Luka waved at the colony of interns scurrying to and fro in the bullpen and exchanged pleasantries with the other designers as he passed their desks.

“Did you get my email, Luka? I’m dying to know what you think!”

“Moreno! I saw your new soft drink spot last night. You killed it!”

“Luka, I’m making an iced coffee run, you want?”

He grinned and winked and demurred his way through the pack until he reached his office and sank into his chair. The storyboards he was working on sat waiting for him in a neat pile. He’d have plenty of time to finish those up today, with hours to spare. Maybe he’d even get ahead on a few other projects, do some sketching or even inking if he was lucky. He could hardly believe he got paid to be creative all day, to turn his ideas into little packages of art for the world to see. It was a dream.

* * * *

Thud.

Luka looked over from his computer screen to the stack of files Tawney had just dumped on his desk.

“Sorry.” She smiled apologetically. “For the new account.”

Luka was unable to stifle a groan. “Ugh.” He rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight. You should get out of here.”

He pouted at her. “I’m not the only one still at work.”

“I’m on my way. Wanna grab some food?”

The panels on his screen blurred as he blinked at them. His stomach was growling, but… “I said I’d have these storyboards finished today.”

“You’re still working on those? You were almost done this morning!”

“Well…” Luka gave Tawney a sheepish look.

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me.” Tawney folded her arms and glared at him.

Biting his lip, he nodded, unable to say the words.

“Luka! Why do you keep helping him?”

Luka moaned and flopped his head onto the desk. “Because I’m pathetic.” His reply was muffled.

Tawney nodded in agreement, her tight brown curls bouncing emphatically. “Yes. Yes, you are. But so is Morgan. You need to stop.”

“I know,” Luka admitted. God, did he ever know.

“Because, once again, you spent the entire day doing his shit, and now—”

He interrupted her with a tortured moan. “It’s okay, babe. I already hate myself.” Never would he ever again date someone from work.

Tawney softened. “Okay, but don’t stay too much longer. You need some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”

Luka looked at her, mind scrabbling for purchase. “Remind me…”

“You poor thing, it may be too late for you. The Big Bad Wolf, Luk! He’s here tomorrow!”

Luka smacked his forehead. “I knew that. Shit, this week has been insane. I should get out of here.” He would just come in a little earlier than normal to finish polishing the storyboards. Because it actually was a big day. Thomas Badgley, a.k.a. ‘The Big Bad Wolf,’ was a company legend. A VP known for swooping in and working his magic for the major clients. And their office had just landed the Sartini account. It was major.

“Yes, you should. I hear he’s intense. You don’t want to be half-asleep when you meet him.”

“I guess you don’t get a nickname like ‘Big Bad Wolf’ by being a giant ball of fluff.”

“Guess not. See you tomorrow, Luk.” Tawney gave him a wave and eased out through the door. The office was dark, the empty desks and chairs now just humped, silent shadows. Last one out, again. Then his stomach growled, more insistent this time, and he decided that the smushed granola bar at the bottom of his bag was not going to cut it. Time to go home.

He struggled to keep his eyes open on the train, then grabbed an order of red curry from the Thai place he hated, just because it was fast and on the way. Luka dropped his keys on the side table, dumped his laptop bag on the chair then went straight into the kitchen to find a fork. A minute later he was digging into his dinner in front of Breaking Bad. He let himself sink into the meth-dealing shenanigans, his exhaustion temporarily forgotten.

But by the time the episode was ending, Walt’s current predicament seemingly beyond hope, Luka’s eyelids were drooping. He turned the TV off as soon as the credits began to roll, before the next episode could suck him in. He meant to go to bed, but somehow he found himself picking up his guitar from its stand by the couch. He plucked a few notes, a melody that had been winding through his head all day, the metal of the strings cool under his thumb. He strummed again, closing his eyes, letting the vibrations wash over him.

His mom had started teaching him piano before he could even reach the pedals, and the violin and guitar had followed soon after. Music was woven into the fabric of his soul, but it was a part he didn’t share with many people. Not since the Say Hi Horror, anyway. Besides his family, the only people who knew about his musical talents were Tawney and Finn. Though now, against his better judgment, Morgan had been added to that group.

He put his guitar back on its stand and went to bed. It took him just a minute to fall fast asleep.

Unfortunately, Luka had the annoying habit of waking up well before his six a.m. alarm. There would be a moment, usually around five, sometimes even earlier, when he became aware that he was awake. A switch would flip, and his brain would begin whirring away. Mostly things to do at work—Shit, I never got back to accounting about the hours for the Boyer file. Is the meeting with the casting director at nine or nine-thirty? I have to remember to check with Finn about the font for the catalogue… But there were other random things, too. Did I have five cups of coffee yesterday? Is that too many? Do I need to buy more coffee? Ooh, it’s my sister’s birthday next week. Should I get her a gift certificate for a massage? Wait, is that what I got her that last year?

Sometimes, just for fun, his brain would start flipping through the stack of index cards that meticulously recorded all the embarrassing or stupid things he had done in his life. Secretly fucking Morgan for months was at the top of that stack right now, and the Say Hi Horror always made an appearance.

On rare occasions, when he was really worn out, he would manage to shut all that noise down and drift back to sleep. Of course, then he began his day being jarred awake by the alarm at six. He wasn’t sure which was worse. This Friday morning, however, he must have been extra exhausted, because for the first time in years, he turned his alarm off and fell back asleep without even realizing it.

When he woke up a while later, feeling refreshed, he picked up his phone to look at the time, then threw himself out of bed with a shriek. “Fuck! Fuck fuck fuuuuuuuck, fucking fuck!” It was 8:07. He was supposed to be at his desk by eight-thirty. That was not happening. Of all the fucking days to be late for work for the first time.

He dashed into the shower to scrub clean, then yanked on the first clothes he got his hands on. A bagel thawed in the microwave while he brewed his coffee, since there was no functioning without it. Then he was out of the door, travel mug in hand, swearing again when the coffee sloshed onto his shirt.

Collapsing into a seat on the subway, he texted his boss.

Hi Ilona—I’m so sorry, it seems I slept through my alarm, I’ll be a little late…

He held his breath after he had hit ‘send’ then sighed with relief when it went through. His boss was beautiful, polished and more than a little intimidating. Some days he still couldn’t believe Ilona had hired him, a fresh face with not much more than a charming smile and a padded resume. And that was when he wasn’t running late for the most important meeting of the year.

Then the lights flickered and the train began to slow down, before grinding to a halt in the dark tunnel. Luka joined the other passengers in groaning loudly. How could this be happening? The speaker crackled to life and a disinterested voice explained there was a technical problem causing a short delay and thanking them for their patience. Luka added another text for Ilona, leg jittering as he tapped on his phone.

And my train just stopped.

This one didn’t go through. Fuck. No signal. He sighed and pressed his head to the cool glass, willing the metal tube back to life. Oh, God. He pictured everyone sitting around the conference table, staring at his empty seat, Morgan as smug as ever.

It was an excruciating fifteen minutes before they were moving again. Luka had been starting to wonder if he could pry open the doors and climb up to a manhole cover, but that was rendered unnecessary when they lurched back to life. As the beleaguered train was finally pulling into the station, two messages popped up. One was a reply from Ilona.

Come to the conference room when you arrive.

The other was from Tawney.

Where are you???

He dashed up the stairs and sprinted the three blocks to his office, dodging cars and what seemed like exceptionally slow-moving foot traffic. Eyeing a crowd waiting at the elevator, he bounded up four flights of stairs, his heartbeat echoing louder than his footsteps. White spots were floating in front of his eyes by the time he arrived in the foyer, sweaty and heaving like a racehorse. He dabbed a sleeve at his forehead and made his way down the hall, attempting to get his breathing under control lest someone call nine-one-one on account of his imminent heart attack.

Pausing outside the conference room, he caught a glimpse of the packed space, all eyes focused on a person at the front he couldn’t see. Fucking. Hell. There was nothing to do but go in. He took another ragged breath, smoothed his jacket then pushed the door open, oh so quietly.

Every head in the room whipped over to stare at him. Luka froze, an awkward smile on his face, determined to avoid making eye contact with a single person. Another bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

“So sorry,” he stage-whispered, embarrassment flooding his face. The room was jammed with just about the entire office, extra chairs crammed in another ring around the table and wherever else they would fit. There was an open seat right next to Tawney. However, it was on the other side of the table, through the dense sea of people. “Excuse me,” he whispered to the first person he had to squeeze past. And again, “Excuse me,” to the next. Every pair of eyes watched him in silence. Fucking kill me now, he thought to himself, mouthing “Sorry,” again.

Seventeen million years later, he fell into the chair. It screeched like a car wreck. He closed his eyes, not quite ready to risk a glance at the head of the table.

“Well, now that Luka is settled,” Ilona said dryly, “please go ahead, Thomas.”

Luka dared to raise his eyes. Then he saw Thomas Badgley for the first time. Oh…my fucking God. It was like in movies when the rest of the world faded away to an irrelevant gray blur, and all that was left was one perfect person bathed in heavenly light. Luka was sure he made an audible wheeze, the breath he had barely gained back gone again. Tawney shot him a concerned look, but he didn’t care.

How could he? Because Thomas Badgley was the most insanely gorgeous man he had ever seen in his entire life. It was impossible to look away. And Thomas was staring back at Luka with a smooth face and phenomenal eyes, a warm, shining golden brown. But just for a split second, then Thomas’ gaze returned to the rest of the room.

Luka continued to drink him in, his mouth gaping. Thomas had wavy hair, a rich chocolate-brown, long enough to be pulled back into a small bun. He was at least six-foot-two, with ivory skin, a strong, chiseled jaw, a heavy brow and a wide, muscular frame that tapered into a narrow waist. His thick shoulders and arms looked ready to burst through his expensive, charcoal-gray fitted suit jacket. Big Bad Wolf, indeed.

Thomas was speaking, although Luka had no idea what he was saying. He was lost in the way Thomas’ lips formed around each sound he made, the flashes of a pink tongue and the deep baritone of his voice vibrating the hairs on Luka’s skin.

Then he realized everyone was staring at him again, right as Tawney kicked him under the table.

“Sorry?” Luka choked out.

Ilona cleared her throat and arched her eyebrow. “I was just saying, Luka has finished up those storyboards, haven’t you?”

Fuuuuck. “Yes. I mean, no. Almost. The subway…” His cheeks flared up again.

“Hmm,” Thomas grunted. He didn’t look impressed.

“Well,” Ilona said, shooting him a disapproving frown, “the design team can meet again later today. But I think the rest of us are clear on next steps. Thanks, everyone.”

This time he caught the sympathetic glance Tawney threw at him.

Fuck me.