Fake Match: A Friends-To-Lovers Workplace Romance Read online

  FAKE MATCH

  A Friends-To-Lovers Workplace Romance

  LAURA OPHELIA

  Copyright © 2018 by Laura Ophelia

  All rights reserved.

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  Chapter One

  Elijah

  “Fuuuuuuck”.

  I groaned as I lobbed a pillow across the bedroom. Putting an alarm clock on the other side of the room was supposed to force me to wake up, make things easier. But it just pissed me off.

  It’s not that I didn’t like staring at code all day. I actually did. But I liked my bed a whole lot more.

  I threw the covers off the bed and slogged over to my phone. After punching the off button with unnecessary force, I crawled back under the sheets and comforter. I set the alarm again for twenty minutes in the future and snuggled up with an extra pillow.

  Suddenly that infernal beep returned, this time right next to my ear. No way that was twenty minutes. But I looked at the clock, and yes, it was. The day was going to start with or without me. Time to get up.

  Instead, I rolled onto my back. It was a start. As much as I could praise myself for taking baby steps, I knew my willpower needed a serious restart. But, the comfort of the bed, the softness of the sheets...

  I tilted my head down and groaned again. Morning wood tented the grey boxers around it. Maybe that was my problem. I’d been single for way too long. Specifically, it had been way too long since I’d gotten laid.

  I didn’t get out of bed. I resisted as long as I could, then slid a hand down my boxers and took a light grip around my cock. As I leaned into the touch I began to slowly stroke, and heat prickled around my neck and ears. But God, wouldn’t that feel even nicer with a woman’s warm, tight, wet little pussy?

  “Ugggghh,” I groaned again. It had been two years since I’d broken up with my last girlfriend. One year since I’d decided I wasn’t into the one night stands anymore. And just as long since I’d had the rough, sweaty pleasure of a woman tightening around me, dragging my chest with her tits.

  Thank God for an overactive imagination.

  The problem was, I didn’t even know why I was choosing to stay single. I had options. Really sweet, beautiful girls. But sometime after ending things with Cindy, I just stopped feeling it. I was over her, but no one else felt quite right.

  A faceless female figure occupied my mind as I continued to stroke myself. The usual. Thick hips, full tits. Full, bouncing, voluptuous tits.

  Cindy had looked like that. And I loved it. I was all over them. So I thought I loved her. Turns out there’s a difference.

  My imaginary bombshell of a woman lowered herself onto my cock, bouncing her hips up and down. If she were really there I’d give her ass a nice slap. The image set off another throbbing rush of blood and I tightened my grip.

  My heartbeat quickened in time with the pace of my tug, and in moments I was spilling over. I settled my breath and finally swung myself out of bed. I still didn’t want to, but now I had to clean up.

  That little fantasy had swallowed up a good chunk of time, so I raced against my personal best time in the shower, gave my hair a thorough drying with the towel, and threw on the first t-shirt in sight and a pair of blue jeans. No, grey jeans. A hot chick once told me they made my ass look good. I spared half a minute to change pairs.

  Not that it mattered. I was just going to work. I’d been a software developer at Tech Screen for four years, since their humble beginnings. I didn’t need to impress anyone there.

  I chuckled at the thought. We did have a new hire at the company – my friend Adelaide. Back in the day, I'd been in a sort of mentorship program, and I got paired up with her as her mentor. We stayed friends all while she was in college, and I knew she was a hard worker, so I put her name in for the job. She'd been working at the company as a copywriter for two weeks. It was fun to watch her grow into her first professional position – still wearing heels to work even though the office was completely casual. She wanted to put her best foot forward. Really prove herself. And, hey, I wasn't complaining. The heels looked good.

  I immediately hurled the thought of my mind. She was almost fifteen years younger than me. She was my friend, and now my coworker. And I was not ready to admit that over the past six months, my imaginary bombshell woman had begun to conjure up a specific face.

  Chapter Two

  Adelaide

  Steam billowed around my shoulders, evaporating when it hit the chill in my bedroom. The drop from the sauna-like shower to AC on full blast shocked my body each morning. But I liked it, so I kept it that way.

  I wasn’t used to getting up that early. The alarmed blared at 6:05 each morning, sunlight not even coming in through the blinds. I’d only been waking up for this job for two weeks, but I didn’t think I’d ever get used to it.

  The shock meant I was wide awake, although I sure didn’t look it. I ran a comb through my hair, then scrunched it up from the ends, lacking the patience to blow dry it smooth that morning. A much more welcome beep emitted from the kitchen, and that familiar smell filled the air – warm and bitter, but oh, so sweet. Automatic coffee pots were God’s gift to the world.

  I held my towel close to my body with one arm and flung open dresser drawers with the other. I'd been doing my best to keep clothes in the dresser rather than on top of it. Maybe that was the more responsible way to do it, but it was way less convenient. With one hand I untangled the mess of bras strewn across the top of the pile – black, beige, white. To the right, lined up in a neat stack, much more exciting patterns caught my eye. Bright red, black lace, cheetah print (not sure what I'd been thinking with that one). The nicer lingerie had been sitting neatly for a while now. Every morning its lack of disarray reminded me just how long it had been.

  And again, I closed the drawer and left the thought deep within it. Coffee beckoned.

  I poured my cup, taking deep, calming breaths and steadying myself for the day. Two weeks in a real job already felt like an accomplishment. Of course, it was nothing compared to the decades in the workforce in front of me. But it had only been four weeks since graduation, and there had been a point where I wasn’t totally sure I would make it there.

  When the coffee had cooled enough, I leaned back on the counter and took a sip. Something about the lingerie nagged at me. Even though I was standing in my dark apartment kitchen at 6:45 am, reveling in the power of black coffee to get me in a desk by 8, something pricked at the back of my neck. I had thought I just wasn’t settled in, so I spent the previous night making all the finishing touches. No cardboard boxes left, no clothes on the floor. All the artwork on the wall. I was officially settled in. I ought to be comfortable. But that wasn’t it.

  In fact, I ought to be proud of myself. And I was. The last semester of college I’d gone through a really rough breakup. He was my everything. I couldn’t imagine a future where I’d be standing here, wrapped in a towel, coffee in hand, getting ready to go, without him sneaking in a few extra minutes of sleep in our bed. Somewhere, deep down, I probably knew he didn’t think the same. It had become obvious that h
e was only there for me when it was convenient for him. But he was still my everything. I followed him around like a puppy, happy to settle for scraps. He thought he was so cool. So did I.

  The stove light shone out a bright green 6:50, and I knew I should be getting ready and dressed. But I’d already decided I didn’t have it in me to dry my hair. I’d have the Monday morning messy look. So I had some time. I grabbed my coffee and moved to the living room, not bothering to turn on the lights before I sat down on the couch.

  A few strands of pale light streamed in through the cracked blinds. The mug warmed my palms and I hunched over it, peering inside like it was a crystal ball.

  Honestly, I’d always known Brandon wasn’t right for me. But one night when he was out again with his friends, without me, I dug deep into myself and decided that was enough. Enough nights spent wrapped up in a blanket, shaking with anxiety, trying to curse away my tears. Enough trying to decipher why I wasn’t good enough for him. I still didn’t know. But I’d realized I’d never find out. And I did the bravest thing I’ve ever done – I left him.

  I sat back on the couch and looked around, reminding myself that all this was mine. That I'd made it here.

  The final months of college were hell. When I was supposed to be having my final goodbye adventures with friends, applying to jobs, beaming toward the bright future in front of me, I was broken, alone. I was trying to scrape together any pieces of my life that were left, and I was failing at it. I didn’t have any hope for the future, I only had fear. The memory was a punch in my stomach. I left Brandon because I knew I was never his, but that still didn’t stop me from wanting to be.

  “You’ll be back,” he had said. I told him I wouldn’t. “Then you’ll be running straight to some other guy’s arms. You know you’re nothing without a cock in you. You’re always riding some dude’s dick because you’re worthless on your own.” I told him that wasn’t true. “You know it is. You know that’s the only reason I let you follow me around. I felt sorry for you.” He called me ungrateful. I called him a dick. “Maybe,” he said. “But I guess you’ll be getting your dick somewhere else.”

  My wet hair dripped down my arms. I was still on the couch, only in a towel. I didn’t want to think about getting dressed – I didn’t want to think about the lingerie.

  I had vowed back then to prove Brandon wrong. He was right, I was nothing without a man. I didn’t know how to be happy alone. But I promised him, and myself, that it wouldn’t happen again, I wouldn’t be running off to some other guy. Brandon wouldn’t be seeing my relationship status change online, he wouldn’t be seeing me and a new guy plastered all over social media. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. All he would see is me, on my own, living my best life. And it was working. There I was, two weeks into a real, full-time job. And the lingerie was untouched in the dresser.

  Things were good. That was what I was telling myself. It takes everyone some time to adjust after college. Really, I tried to drill the thought into my head, You’re doing well.

  I downed the rest of my coffee and stood up to get dressed. I had work to do.

  * * *

  “You’re here early again.”

  The voice snuck up behind me, breaking me out of my idle stare. A grey pencil skirt and black vintage band t-shirt rounded the corner of my table and sat down across from me. My deskmate Amber had been working here for almost two years – enough for the new employee manners to wear off.

  “I’m afraid of getting stuck in traffic,” I replied.

  “Babe, I pray for traffic. It’s a legitimate excuse for more radio time.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get there someday,” I said as she tucked her short, scrappy red hair behind her ears and opened up her laptop.

  Five minutes after eight, the office was almost full, but not quite. It was a pretty casual environment, which my blue jean collection would eventually be thankful for. The sun pinged off the pale green desks and chairs, though the clear glass office doors, and hit the exposed brick wall with its morning light. Tech Screen had the hip startup aesthetic down. And in true startup fashion, it had lax rules to make up for the unkind amount of work everyone had.

  “Well, getting here early doesn’t mean you’re leaving any later,” Amber said.

  “Don’t worry. With all your tips I’m sure I’ll pick up on your slacker ways.”

  “I just know how to work efficiently,” she said with a shrug. “Don’t wear yourself out on something that doesn’t deserve it.”

  I smiled. I liked the way Amber thought.

  A familiar thud infiltrated the office, getting closer and closer each second. The office may be hip, but it wasn't extravagant. A startup budget put the company in an obscure part of town, and not exactly a nice one. The building was known to creak and moan and make other various unpleasant noises. It sounded like a baby elephant herd was arriving every time someone came up the stairs.

  I turned to see who it was and was met with my other friendly face in the office. Dark, messy hair, broad shoulders with a slim torso, and grey jeans covering long legs – Elijah. While Amber and I had only met my first day and became fast friends, I’d known Elijah for years. Forever, it felt like. I watched as he acknowledged a few good-mornings with a sly head nod, then bumped elbows with another male coworker.

  “Elijah’s my bro,” Michael had told me when we were introduced my first day. “If he says you’re good stuff, I’m sure you’ll do great here.”

  I owed Elijah everything for getting me this job. Graduation had been looming and I had zero job prospects – I didn’t even know what I wanted to do. The only thing I could see in my future was moving back in with my parents. Even now, with a steady paycheck toward my own rent, I shuddered at the thought. But if my college experience was good for one thing, it would be Elijah. He was the alumni mentor I was assigned at freshman orientation. After that first year, he’d never been much of a help in the way of academics. In fact, I’d be quicker to call him a bad influence. But he became the one constant friend I could rely on throughout all four years.

  He was also the sexy older man I let star in only my wildest fantasies.

  I didn't know we would become so close, and I certainly never imagined we'd become coworkers. I wouldn't have let myself think such dirty things about him if I did. In fact, I almost blew off our first meeting but decided to go at the last minute. Bright-eyed, eighteen-year-old me was entranced by his rugged good looks. And since Elijah's personality came across as anything as professional, I let myself daydream. A dirty little secret, just for me, just for fun. I made myself stop when I got with Brandon. But I'd have to be blind to admit he wasn't hot.

  I dreaded giving up hanging out with Elijah after I graduated. His “mentorship” technically ended after my freshman year, so our friendship just relocated to the bars. But I didn’t know what would happen once I moved on to my own life. Elijah saw me struggling, and in his one true act of professional guidance, he put in my name for this position. I got put on the short track through the interview process, and a week later I was hired. By miracle, I’d landed a job, and I’d get to work every day with my best friend.

  Elijah scanned the room and threw me a wink before heading to his corner of the office. The way his t-shirt stretched across the muscles of his back sent a lump to my throat. The fact we were friends didn’t make him any less attractive.

  But it was my little secret.

  I looked back to Amber and saw she’d been watching the exchange with a slick smile in her eyes.

  “Tell me how you two met again?” she asked.

  “He was my alumni mentor my freshman year.”

  “How the hell did Elijah get wrapped up in that? Was is court-appointed community service?”

  I laughed. “You know, I never asked him.”

  “Was he any good?”

  I coughed. “Sorry, what?”

  “Was he a good mentor?” Amber asked.

  "Oh. Yeah, he was. The program only lasted a
year. He helped me through all the freshman stuff. After that, we just hung out as friends."

  “I thought so, I thought I remembered him mentioning you.”

  “Oh?” Amber’s words were news to me. Elijah’s outside world and mine had never really overlapped.

  “Yeah, when they said you were hired I thought you sounded familiar. But that makes sense if you stayed friends.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Well I’m glad you’re here,” she said, staring back at her computer screen and beginning to type. “Brings up the estrogen level a little more. The tech bros can be a bit much.”

  I laughed again at the mental picture. Elijah worked hard. But he’d always been loyal to his crew, including me. He never did anything halfway.

  Remembering my own work, I scanned through my task list for the day. It was a lot. But it felt good to be needed.

  “I’m glad I’m here too,” I told her.

  Chapter Three

  Elijah

  “You needed me, sir?”

  I knocked on the boss’ door, then opened it. Knocking was just a formality – all the office doors in the company were clear.

  “Yeah, Elijah, sit down.”

  Carey was my boss' boss' boss. Not quite the head honcho, but up there. I didn't have reason to interact with him often, so I had no idea what he wanted me for.

  “We don’t get to talk much anymore, do we?” he began.

  “No sir, we don’t,” I replied. “That’s a shame, isn’t it? You seem like a cool dude.”

  He chuckled. I wasn’t lying. Carey was the company’s Chief Operating Officer, and one of its founders, back when the company was just three guys in a basement. He had gotten tired of the “stuffy corporate world”, moved out here for the small-town life, and started fresh. He was probably as cool as you could get for a fifty-something former suit.