Sage
By the end of day two, I had learned three very important things:
1. Coffee is not a substitute for confidence.
2. Pretending to be a guy is way harder when you have to share a bathroom.
3. Wes never, ever shuts up.
"I'm telling you," he said, practically bouncing next to me, "if Greg assigns you the Jenkins migration, run."
"Run?" I echoed, trying not to walk like a girl, talk like a girl, or blink like someone who just lied to get this job.
Wes nodded seriously. "Straight out the window. Save yourself."
"Noted."
"And if Priya offers you candy, don't take it. That stuff's so sour it'll erase your ancestors."
I snorted. "Duly noted."
We were heading to the breakroom, and I was trying very hard not to walk too lightly in my brother's oversized dress shoes. Honestly, they felt like clown shoes on me. I'd stuffed the toes with tissue paper just to keep them from flopping.
Wes elbowed me. "You're kinda quiet. You good?"
I nodded. "Just mentally preparing for death-by-spreadsheet."
"Smart. That's how they get you."
We entered the breakroom — a bright, modern space with a high-end espresso machine that looked like it cost more than my entire car. There were two engineers arguing over whose oat milk was missing and one guy asleep on the couch with a sticky note on his forehead that read Do Not Disturb (or poke with a fork).
I reached for the coffee pot. Almost knocked over someone's smoothie. Recovered with a weird sideways grab that made Wes stare at me.
"You play sports or something?" he asked.
I froze. "Why?"
"You've got, like, weird reflexes. Like you're ready to dodge a punch at all times."
"Oh." I coughed. "Yeah. Taekwondo. As a kid. Lots of reflex drills."
He nodded, impressed. "Nice. You still train?"
"Not… recently."
He passed me the sugar. "We should play company dodgeball sometime. You'd dominate."
I gave a weak laugh and turned away, clutching my coffee cup like it could save me.
Then the door swung open, and in walked the man who gave me accidental heart attacks: Dorian Vale.
Of course.
Of. Freaking. Course.
Why was the CEO always walking around? Didn't he have a fortress to sit in or something?
He strode past us like a well-tailored storm cloud — dark, quiet, and somehow colder than the A/C. His presence sucked the air out of the room without saying a word.
Wes muttered under his breath, "Boss man in the wild."
I lowered my gaze, trying to look like a hardworking intern and not a fraud in a wig. I forced my voice down and offered a polite, "Morning, sir."
Dorian stopped.
I shouldn't have spoken.
I really, really shouldn't have spoken.
He turned toward me. "Rowan."
My heart jumped into my throat. "Yes?"
He looked me over like he was trying to do math in his head and didn't like the numbers.
"You're left-handed?" he asked suddenly.
"…Excuse me?"
He gestured to the coffee pot. "You used your left hand. But your resume said you coded with your right."
I blinked. What kind of psycho remembers resume details like that?!
"Oh, that. Yeah, I uh… do both. Ambidextrous."
He stared.
Wes, ever the lifesaver, laughed. "That's kinda cool, actually."
I nodded too fast. "Yep. Life of the party at keyboard-themed get-togethers."
Dorian didn't smile. "Okay , Rowan."
Then he walked out.
Like it was nothing.
Like he didn't just give me an instant ulcer.
—
Back at my desk, I slammed my forehead gently onto the keyboard.
"You good?" Priya asked flatly.
"Just… stretching my neck."
"Mhm."
I stayed there, forehead to keys, praying that no one looked too closely at my face — or my soul — for the rest of the day.
At lunch, I snuck into the ladies' restroom and sat in a stall just to breathe.
I felt like a balloon that had been inflated too fast — round, loud, and one click away from bursting.
I pulled out my phone and opened a text from Rowan.
Rowan: How's work? Any disasters?
Me: I lied to the CEO about being ambidextrous.
Rowan: …
Rowan: WHY?
Me: Did you put it in a file that you coded with your right hand ?
Rowan : uh I think I did in passing ,when I submitted my introduction letter. It's not something anyone ,not to mention a CEO would notice
Me: well apparently he did! . I picked up the coffee pot with my left hand. What was I supposed to do??
Rowan: Pick it up with your soul, Sage.
I buried my face in my hands.
This was spiraling.
I had no idea how to "be a guy" full-time. Every move I made felt scrutinized. I was constantly tugging my shirt forward, adjusting my wig, deepening my voice just enough to pass.
I missed eyeliner. I missed breathing normally. I missed not feeling like I was about to be dragged into a corporate interrogation room every time Dorian looked at me.
And oh—the way he looked at me.
Not like he liked me. Not like he disliked me. Just like… I confused him.
Like I was a puzzle with missing pieces.
And that made me terrified.
Because if he stared too long, he might start seeing through the act.
And then I'd be fired. Sued. Blacklisted. My brother's dreams shattered.
And worst of all?
I'd have to admit I was starting to like this job.
—
Later that afternoon, I was helping Wes rewire a faulty monitor cable under one of the workstations.
Wig on. Shoulders squared. Chin up. Bro mode: activated.
"Hand me the HDMI?" he asked.
I passed it down. "So what's with Greg? Everyone keeps warning me."
"He yells," Wes said. "Like, yells. No warning. Just boom. Red face. Fire-breath."
"Fun."
"Oh yeah. He once threw a chair. It bounced."
We both laughed.
That's when I heard someone behind us say, "Arden?"
I turned too fast, smacked my head on the desk, and let out a loud, high-pitched "Ow!"
Not "Ow" like a guy.
"Ow!" like a girl in a shampoo commercial.
Priya raised a brow. "You good?"
I dropped my voice an octave. "Yup. Totally. Just. Skull stuff."
Greg — big, red-faced, definitely fire-breathing — was standing behind us. "Monitor working?"
Wes nodded. "Should be, yeah."
"Great. Arden," Greg said, looking straight at me. "I want you to take lead on the compliance report with Priya tomorrow."
I blinked. "Me?"
"You can write, can't you?"
I nodded way too hard. "I love writing. Big fan of… sentences."
Greg squinted at me. "You always talk like that?"
"Only when I hit my head."
He stared a beat longer, then turned and walked away.
Wes gave me a thumbs-up.
Priya looked me over. "You're weird."
I smiled. "You're welcome."
—
At 5:45, I made my escape, tugged off my wig in the car, and sighed so hard I deflated the whole front seat.
Two days down .only sixty-eight to go.
I picked up my phone and a text entered simultaneously .
It was a picture of me in front of the ladies bathroom.