CHAPTERONE
Spencer
Spencer Travis stared at the germy elevator button.I told that asshole to hire an elevator attendant.
The door on his right leading to the stairs was appealing, except he’d be a sweaty mess by the time he reached Cor’s office. The last thing he needed was a damp shirt or worse: sweaty dreadlocks.
Shit.
His knuckles clenched, ready to press the elevator button.
Not for the first time, he wished his best friend, Cor, would splurge and hire an elevator operator for the office building. Lord only knew how many people touched that button. And to think, he’d have to press it again to choose a floor.
Hell.
He rolled his shoulders, opting not to think about the germs that would soon fester on his knuckles.
“Going up?”
Thank goodness. He was starting to wonder if anyone worked around here.
“Yes,” he said to the young man with the energy of an eager intern. Once the doors opened and they stepped in, Spencer slipped his hands into his pockets. The youth was doing such a good job pressing buttons there was no reason to stop him now.
“Ah…what floor, sir?”
“Seventh. Thanks.”
“No problem at all, sir.”
The elevator started moving and he exhaled.
It was date night…or date afternoon, anyway. He’d worked out the bugs in the software he was coding and he wasn’t picking up another contract until the new year. He was going to relax, hang with his buddies, and get laid—starting with a woman he’d met on a dating app, providing she wasn’t the touchy type. He hated being petted like some fur coat by strangers.
Perhaps the double date was just what he needed, allowing him to unwind.
The chime dinged, signaling he’d reached his floor, and the door opened to a row of cubicles. A hand sanitizer, anchored against the wall, stood like a friend. He wouldn’t call himself a germaphobe. No, germaphobe was too obsessive. He didn’t appreciate unknown hands on his body and elevators were one of the most handsy places he knew.
Rubbing the alcohol into his palm, he headed towards Cor’s office. He was here for one reason: to grab his wingman for his double date.
He hadn’t dated in ages. Money afforded him luxuries—theaters, shows, expensive dinners with beautiful women—but there was no connection. No spark. Each interaction was no more genuine than the entertainment he’d paid for.
But that was going to change. Tonight, he was going to have a good time. Too many weeks were spent like a hermit hunched over his computers, except on weekends when the guys met up at Cor’s place.
Seeing the pile of papers scattered across Cor’s office desk, Spencer crossed his arms. “You don’t look ready for cocktails, man.”
“Shit.” Cor ran his hand down his face.
Spencer braced the open doorframe to Corin’s office. It wasn’t like his friend to forget a meeting, much less cancel one without a text message.
“I forgot your double date thing was today,” Cor said, appearing genuinely frustrated.
Spencer’s forehead wrinkled in annoyance. “Dude, I’ve been trying to get Miss Goody-two-shoes to make an appearance for a week.” Usually he was the one stuck behind screens, apps, and data.
“I don’t know why you bother. Another week and you’ll be fending off her text messages.”
“I’m not in it for intellectual growth,” he said, though he craveda decent conversation.Spencer crossed his arms. “How is it you can have short hook-ups, but when I do, I get lectured?”
Spencer already knew the answer as the redundant question slipped from his mouth. Meeting people was tedious. He enjoyed clingy dates even less. Not just clingy dates, but all clingy people—the ones who couldn’t carry a conversation unless they were sucking up the oxygen in his personal space. Or touching him when they felt an emotional high. As if doing so made him more empathetic to their feelings.