Chapter 240: You’re Smiling Again
Martin woke a few minutes before his alarm and lay still, waiting for the usual irritation to catch up with him, but it never did.
His head felt clear, and his shoulders did not tighten when he remembered the day waiting for him at the office. He did not grab his phone to see how many minutes remained before he had to get out of bed, either. He was already wide awake, with more energy than he had any right to feel that early in the morning.
Then he remembered Alexandra.
They had kissed two nights ago, but his body clearly had not filed the memory away yet. He could still feel her mouth opening beneath his, the way she pressed closer after he grabbed her waist, and the soft weight of her ass filling his hand.
His morning erection became much harder to ignore.
"Yeah, good morning to you too," Martin muttered as he reached for his phone.
Their private conversation was already open. He must have left it that way after reading it before bed, then reading it again once the lights were off.
[Alexandra: I’m looking forward to it.]
[Martin: Same. Nervous, but same.]
That was where they had stopped, and Martin read the exchange again with a smile he made no effort to hide.
Women had flirted with him plenty over the past few weeks. They had teased him, pressed themselves against him, and put him in situations that would have been impossible to misunderstand if he had not worked so hard at misunderstanding them. Alexandra had finally left him nowhere to hide.
She knew he wanted her. He had kissed her back, asked her out, and admitted that the date made him nervous. Instead of pulling away, she had told him she was looking forward to it.
Martin rested the phone against his chest. "I’m twenty-four years old," he said to the ceiling. "Get a grip."
He picked the phone up again almost immediately.
This was not another dungeon run or guild meeting. They were not meeting because someone needed help, because a quest had appeared, or because the party happened to be gathering at their usual bench. He and Alexandra had chosen to spend the evening together, and neither of them was pretending it meant nothing.
Night Espresso’s problems were still waiting for him. Their first attempt to uncover a route into the Level Sixty Hidden Dungeon had failed, the fourteen-day Development Project was still underway, and the academy needed a new facility before the deadline. Martin had no answer for any of it yet, but somehow, he still felt better than he had in weeks.
He read Alexandra’s final message one more time, then forced himself out of bed before he started a conversation for no reason other than wanting to see her reply.
By the time he finished showering, he caught himself humming. Martin stopped in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection.
"This is getting embarrassing."
The grin on his face refused to cooperate.
—
Fluorescent lights buzzed above the office while keyboards clattered from every direction. Someone had already burned the first pot of coffee, and the printer near the far wall made a sharp clicking noise between every page.
Usually, the smell alone was enough to irritate Martin before he reached his desk. Today, he put down his bag, logged in, and barely registered it.
One of the younger employees on his team approached with a tablet held against her chest. The careful way she walked told him the problem had already passed through at least two people before reaching him.
"The client changed the wording again."
Martin held out his hand. "Let me see."
She passed him the tablet.
The client had approved the first version two days earlier, rejected it yesterday, approved the revision that morning, and now wanted something nearly identical to the version they had started with.
Martin read the message twice. "Send them the first version with the updated figures."
The employee stayed beside his desk.
He looked up. "Was there something else?"
"That’s all you’re going to say?"
"What did you want me to say?"
"I don’t know. Usually there’s a comment."
"Save your disappointment. They’ll change it again before lunch."
She looked at him more closely. "You’re smiling."
"Keep your voice down."
"Why?"
"People will start expecting it."
Martin handed back the tablet. "Send the file."
She walked away, but not before glancing over her shoulder twice.
The rest of the team soon became just as suspicious.
A newer employee entered the wrong figure in a report. Martin corrected it, explained where the number had come from, and sent him back without making him feel like he had ruined the entire account. Another employee forgot an attachment, and Martin simply pointed at the empty field until she noticed it herself.
Even the client who sent three messages marked urgent and then vanished for an hour failed to drag him into a bad mood.
By lunch, people were openly watching him.
One of the men on his team leaned against Martin’s desk while he worked through a spreadsheet.
"Did Cassandra give you another vacation?"
"No."
"Did you finally sleep eight hours?"
"Don’t be ridiculous."
The man remained there, studying his face with more concentration than he had shown his own work all morning.
"You’re doing something after work."
Martin’s fingers paused on the keyboard.
The man’s eyebrows rose. "With a woman."
"You have three open items."
"That isn’t a denial."
"Pick one before I make you handle all three."
The employee pushed away from the desk, laughing as he retreated.
Martin returned to the spreadsheet, but his focus had already slipped. His eyes moved to the clock in the corner of the screen.
12:47.
More than six hours remained before the date. That should have been plenty of time. He still had work, the commute home, another shower, food, and a few preparations inside the game.
Knowing that did not make the afternoon move any faster.
At least his team was productive. Martin answered questions before anyone could turn a small mistake into a crisis, and the queues cleared without the usual late scramble. People seemed more willing to approach him when they were not expecting him to sound exhausted or annoyed.
By late afternoon, every scheduled report had gone out. The active work was finished, and only a handful of client messages remained unresolved.
Martin checked the dashboard once, refreshed it, then checked again. After confirming that nobody had left anything buried in the queue, he pushed his chair back and walked into his boss’s office.
"The queues are clear," Martin said. "Can I send my team home and cover the last hour myself?"
His boss looked at the dashboard on his monitor.
"You want to stay so they can leave?"
"They’re finished. Keeping them here would just mean watching them pretend to work."
"You complain when they do that."
"Exactly."
His boss leaned back and looked him over. "You’ve been strangely tolerable all day."
"I’ll try not to make it a habit."
"And you’ll handle anything that comes in?"
"Yeah."
The older man considered it for another moment. "Fine. Today only. Ask me again next time instead of assuming this is your new policy."
"I came in here to ask."
"You know what I mean."
Martin turned toward the door.
His boss spoke again before he reached it. "Whatever you have planned tonight, try to keep some blood in your brain."
Martin thought about what he intended to ask Rangar.
"That warning might be late."
His boss stared at him, and Martin left before the man decided he needed an explanation.
Back among the desks, he stopped in the middle of his section. "Finish whatever you’re typing, save it, and go home."
Several people turned around.
The youngest employee blinked at him. "Seriously?"
"The boss approved it. Don’t give him time to reconsider."
"We’re scheduled until five."
"You’ve finished your work. Go do something that isn’t sitting under fluorescent lights."
Nobody argued after that. Chairs rolled away from desks, bags appeared from beneath tables, and computers shut down one after another. Within minutes, most of the section had emptied.
One employee lingered beside Martin’s desk.
"You’re really staying for the late queue?"
"Yes."
The man narrowed his eyes. "This date must be serious."
Martin looked up from his screen. "Why are you still here?"
"So it is a date."
"Go home."
The man grinned. "Have fun."
"Leave before I change my mind and reopen your queue."
That finally sent him toward the exit.
The office grew quieter as the remaining employees disappeared. Without the constant questions and conversation around him, Martin worked through the final messages, checked the next day’s schedule, and left clear notes for his team.
Nothing was rushed, and nothing would be waiting for them in the morning because he had wanted to leave early.
When the clock reached five, he logged out of the company system and grabbed his bag. For once, being the last one there had been his choice, and he could live with that.