Wor and Play

Hello everyone and welcome back! As this story is reaching about 1/3 of the way through, there's going to be more storyline (and just as much fucking, if not more), meaning chapters are getting a tiny bit longer. Reminder that it IS recommended to read the previous chapters to understand this one.

Happy reading!

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Monday is a nightmare.

I sit up in bed, wheezing uncontrollably and my chest feeling as if it might explode.

The last time I had an asthma attack, I had been dehydrated at a community service event my senior year at Harvard. I told my sister Beth about it over the phone. None of my other family members called me. I had to be in the hospital for hours because I was unresponsive.

The more I scare myself, the worse it gets. I know where my inhaler is, I just need to be able to move without my body feeling as if I'm going to collapse. C'mon, Zeke, c'mon—

It takes forever for me to finally reach the drawer, and even more time to get my hands coordinated enough to pump medicine into my airway. I check the clock—9:14. I haven't been late to work a day in my life. Not only did I sleep through my alarm, but my body shut down in the process. Great. Just great.

I dreamt of Clay. A reenactment of the entire situation played out in my dream, and I must've had an anxiety attack. It wasn't a nightmare, no; but it was enough to irregulate my breathing to the point where my body got too worked up. I don't want to go to work at all today.

I inhale and hold my breath, letting it out slowly after five seconds.

I call Grayson's office, realizing that for the first time, I have to check in with him for work. I won't get there until 10:30; 10:00 if I rush and don't eat anything. "Grayson Thomas, OrtegaTech Colorado—"

"It's Zeke," I say, voice harsh.

"Hey, man... what's up?"

"I'm gonna be there soon. I just had a rough morning."

Grayson doesn't respond for a second, and I think I hear him typing up something. "Alright."

"Had an asthma attack. I don't have a doctor's note, but I'll bring my prescription," I say softly, looking at my inhaler.

"You had an... asthma attack? You should probably stay home, Zeke. If it was really bad—I mean you sound awful. Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone to check on you?" Grayson says, panic in his voice.

"No, no. I'll be at work as soon as possible. I'm really sorry," I respond. My chest feels like fire, and my vision is just starting to clear up. I'm going to find a way to get Clay away from me and my office if it kills me.

"Don't apologize. Get here when you can, and if you need to stay home, that's completely fine," Grayson says softly. "Just let me know. Should I pick you up or—"

"No, I'm fine now. I swear."

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I make it to work at 10:40, way later than I wanted. I feel like everyone glances my way as soon as I walk in, eyeballing me. I look like I just slept in an hour. Way to go, Zeke. I avoid anyone's eye contact as I check in and sit in my office. My throat still hurts from sucking in so much dry air.

Grayson, of course, is the first one to call me on my office phone.

"You're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. And I brought my medication and all of that... if you need it or whatever."

"Don't sweat it," Grayson insists. "I just don't want you here if you're not okay."

I've never missed a day of work, either. Besides a day-long "vacation" I took (my vacation included attending a business conference and eating at a fancy restaurant with some distinguished people) I haven't missed work. And I'm fine with that.

This day seems even slower than Friday last week. I try my best to access my bank account online since I forgot my cash at home. There's none in my wallet.

It's 11:30 when my eyes widen with epiphany. "Gabriel," I whisper to myself. I was supposed to have breakfast with him. Now it's an hour until lunch... I COULD have lunch with him instead. I doubt I hurt his feelings, but still...

"Knock, knock," Grayson says, peeking in. "Hey, what's the progress on California? Don't mean to bug you—"

"Oh, no you're not bothering me. I don't think what's-her-face is trying to contact us at all. I'm going to have to send an e-mail from our official services just to get a damn reply. Hey, could you get my Visa from my wallet?" I ask, gesturing toward it sitting on the cabinet. Grayson nods. I rub at my temples and groan out loud.

"Uh, Zeke?"

"Hmm?"

"This is Gabriel Ortega's wallet," Grayson says softly. I feel the warning bells go off in my head, and I instantly start sweating. He walks over to show me Gabriel's license and credit card.

I scoff. "Weird. We have the same wallet. Um, I'll call to ask if he has mine."

"Why would he?" Grayson asks, and I can tell he's trying to piece something together in his head. He closes the wallet and leans against the cabinet.

"I visited his office the other day. Uh, Friday," I groan, rubbing at my eyes. "You know, would you mind asking him if he has mine? I don't really want to talk to him. He freaks me out." Grayson's expression changes instantly and dramatically, as if I just thwarted him off his trail, and he gladly nods, taking the wallet upstairs. That could've been hell. I just hope he leaves it at the door.

When he comes back down, my wallet is in his hands, and I decide to change the subject however I can. "We going running?"

"Not today; your lungs don't even work," Grayson says accusingly. "I'm not saying I would mind having to do a mouth-to-mouth, but CPR is not ideal in any sense of the acronym." With that, Grayson winks and leaves quietly. I hope his suspicion goes away.

Damn, I bet Gabriel is just LOVING the back and forth with me. Now I have to tell him "oh hey, I had an asthma attack this morning." Yeah right.

I'm about to go up for a coffee run when I hear Clay talking with someone outside my door. I feel my heart start pounding hard, and I back away from the door. I don't actually know if I can handle seeing the reason for my asthma attack today. I wait for another ten minutes before heading upstairs.

I'm not exactly surprised to see Gabriel in the break room, preparing a large cup of tea. "Well, hello."

"I didn't mean to just blow you off today," I say, voice raspy and very, very unappealing.

"You know, it doesn't even matter," Gabriel says, annoyed. "I don't know what you want from me, but I do know that breakfast is not it. So if you want to call me for a fuck and that's all... I don't really care." Gabriel doesn't even glance my way as he speaks. I don't know how to respond. I just feel all-around pathetic when I'm with him sometimes.

"I had an asthma attack," I say softly, folding my arms and staring at the ground. "Caused by an anxiety att—forget it." I shake my head, clear my throat, and turn around to go back downstairs.

"Zeke—"

I honestly don't want to have to keep explaining myself to him. I have more to worry about than what Gabriel thinks of me. I have to figure out a way to dodge that "three years" rule and a way to get Clay the fuck away from me. Gabriel calls my name again, and I swivel around slowly on my heel. "I'm sorry. I had a rough morning."

"Really, now," I say sarcastically, subtly glancing around to see if anyone is within earshot. "Glad I'm not the only one to have body-crippling panic attacks at random."

"I really did think you flaked out on me... it pissed me off," Gabriel says lowly. "I just had a lot to do this morning and it was wrong of me to just assume you didn't want to. But can you blame me? We're not exactly on the same communication wave."

"Because you talk to me like I'm an idiot," I remark.

"And you're upset because I'm not someone you can boss around," Gabriel says. "Look, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry; I didn't know about your bad morning..." Gabriel trails off when we hear footsteps. "I'll talk to you later... can I talk to you later?"

"I get off work at 5:30."

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"Hey there, Harvard," I hear Clay's loud voice before I look up. My heart starts racing fast and I scramble out of my chair. "Oh, Princess, relax."

"My name is Ezekiel Hartigan, not Harvard, not Princess, and you need to get the hell out of my office," I say firmly, realizing that I'm backed up against my desk, shivering in my Oxford shoes. Clay is a good ten feet away from me, but my sense of smell is picking up on him nonetheless, and it just takes me back to that half-hour in the bathroom. Even at my barking tone, he doesn't budge. "OUT, Edgar."

"Relax... Zeke. Can I call you Zeke?"

"I'LL call someone here in a second if you don't leave," I snap, wondering if anyone can hear our exchange. I doubt it, since the door is mostly closed. My voice doesn't tend to carry. Clay on the other hand... "I'm serious; get out or I'm going to fucking report you."

"I want. To borrow. A stapler," Clay says shortly. I glance at my desk—I do hoard staplers; there's three on the desk and I know there's another two inside a drawer—but I don't say anything in that relevance.

"No. Leave now."

"I'm not gonna—okay, listen, Princess. Ugh, Zeke, whatever. You think my life is easy and I'm just some asshole comin' to pick on ya, right? You think I just wanna make you feel bad and ruin your goddamn day, don't ya?" Clay shakes his head. "See, my life ain't all fine and dandy so I can go and do as I please. Old bitch divorces me so I can't see my fuckin' kid? I ain't had a raise in this fuckin' hellhole for three years? You think I'm just a big bully, right?"

"I don't care that your life is shit, I don't care why you feel you need to tell me your story about your ugly wife and your ugly ass kid and your ugly ass family because I don't care, Clay Edgar. If you do not get out of my fucking office in the next five seconds, I will let this entire floor know what a sick pervert you are and how you SEXUALLY HARRASSED me last week. Got it?" I dismiss him with my hand, and he grudgingly walks out, closing my door hard behind him.

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It's taking all I have to pretend I'm working hard until 5:30. Ever since I fucked Gabriel the second time, it's like I either get my work done too fast, or I don't do it at all until the next day. It's not overwhelming, but it's not a good habit.

Once 80% of everyone has cleared out, I head to the vending machine. Grayson stops me as he slips his coat on. "Hey! You planning on staying late again?"

"Uh, just a little. You?"

"Nah. Believe it or not, I have a phone date with my mother. She says I don't tell her anything anymore," Grayson chuckles. I don't know how to take it. He never talks about his family, especially not his mother. Neither do I, but I don't plan on it anytime soon. "Well, you should rest tonight. We can start up running tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan," I agree. "Have a good one. Oh, wait! Um, you know, Clay Edgar is a real pest... I really can't deal with his constant... everything really."

Grayson tilts his head in confusion. "I wish I could do something... I mean I'm not his boss, you know," he chuckles. "I'm sure you can scare him off if you really want to."

"I really don't think so. If—I mean just let me know if you can do anything. He's really awful. I'm sure everyone complains about him but he's terrible," I say lowly. "Thanks."

"I'll see what I can do. Take care." Grayson waves me off. I discreetly make my way upstairs, keeping my promise to Gabriel. I'm not in the mood for anything besides him kissing me and stroking my hair, but maybe that will change.

Eavesdropping is one of my guilty pleasures. I like to say I hold myself to high moral standards, but there are some things too good to pass up. There's a spot in the wall of the hallway—part of Gabe's office—that was constructed poorly. I can stand here and practically hear a pin drop from inside.

"Do you think Zeke is attractive?" Gabe asks.

"Do you?" I hear Jiao respond.

"Jiao, really..." I hear him sigh. "I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing."

"I think he's 24... and that's attractive..."

"I don't like him because he's young. I don't even know if I like him yet at all... he seems great but I don't want to rush into anything. I mean, Jiao, do YOU think he's attractive? As in... is he attractive for a guy?"

Oh, I am definitely not supposed to be hearing this conversation.

"Gabriel, stop freaking out."

"No, no... you don't get to treat me like—just tell me yes or no: is he attractive? Like, 'if you're at a party, and he started making out with your face, you'd definitely fuck him' attractive?"

"Yes, okay? He's hot, he really is. He's also a man... which I think bothers you." There's nothing for a while, and I look around to see if anyone catches me eavesdropping. "Gabriel, don't beat yourself up. He's cute, he really is. And he's not afraid of you... and he's the first man you've ever been with... I mean, honey, a month ago, you were straight. I think you're just over-analyzing things. You're going to see him in what, five minutes? If you don't want it, you need to tell him. This is one I can't work out for you, Love."

There is NO way I am the first man Gabriel's been with. First blow, maybe. But the way he handled me—three times now, mind you—the way he didn't hesitate to stick his fingers inside me, kiss my neck... it doesn't add up. I close my eyes to recreate the memory of his hands holding me down, raking up and down my back as he fucked me hard. So I stand here, a shiver going up and down my spine as I realize that I essentially gave Gabriel his first gay experience.

I knock once, feeling inexplicably nervous with all this new information. It still doesn't make a lot of sense to me.

I'm surprised to find Gabriel with his arms around Jiao, gently rocking back and forth, when I walk in at 5:45 with a decaffeinated lemon tea in hand for him. Iced tea. I don't know if he likes iced tea.

At the sight of me, they don't let go of each other. "Hello, Zeke. You have a gift for me?"

"Hi... yeah, I brought you tea."

Jiao lets go and kisses Gabriel on the cheek. "Thank you," he says. Jiao gives me a look before disappearing into her office. I don't know what they are to each other. I'm afraid to ask. "What kind?"

"Lemon tea. I wanted to make up for being so... difficult." I sit in the chair in front of his desk and slouch. "I'm really just... having the worst time."

"But how's the sex?" Gabriel asks, reaching behind his desk... and revealing an iced caramel coffee to hand to me. If I weren't so damn tired, my heart would flutter, probably. And I'd blush, thinking about how even though we barely know each other, we both brought iced versions of each other's signature work drinks.

"You'd have to ask my activity partner," I sigh with a smile.

"Touché."

Gabriel sits at his desk, leaning back and glancing over me, up and down, without shame. I'm awful at small talk, but if I'm going to jump into this, I should at least be able to have a conversation with him. "So um... how was your day?"

"Sorry, I'm waiting for Jiao Liang to leave," Gabriel says loudly. Jiao looks up from her desk, sticking up a middle finger at him. "She's being difficult. My day was fine. I worried about you for a while, but then I figured... you're a grown man."

I scoff and take a sip of my drink, "You're the first person to ever say that to me, ever. Ever," I exaggerate. Gabriel chuckles to himself. "So... what are you and... I mean Jiao is very nice."

Gabriel nods. "She's my best friend. Over 23 years now we've been friends." My eyes widen in surprise. I'm only 24; I'm not even close friends with my buddies from college, or even Raul. He's married.

Oh my god, the first man I ever had sex with is MARRIED. Raul is 26 and married, geezus... I shudder at the thought. I've never even been in a relationship. I should contact him sometime, see what he's up to. "Working with your friends is really a benefit. Especially since you've been friends since childhood," I remark.

"Well, yeah. Jiao and I felt like we had to talk to each other. We were... let's just say she and I stood out in photos with the rest of our classmates. People weren't always the nicest."

"They were racist pricks," Jiao says from her office.

"Turn off the intercom," Gabriel says her way. Jiao gives him a look and presses a button on her office phone before gathering her things and stepping outside.

"I'm calling it a day," she sighs. She walks around Gabriel's desk to give him a peck on the cheek. "Remember you need to be here early tomorrow, Gabriel. Goodbye, Zeke." And she's gone. Gabriel walks around to put his hands on my waist.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

GRAYSON: Hey! good news; got e-mail from cali, I guess they found out Gabriel Ortega is here and they're showing some respect now, lol. Wants to call you really soon, probably at 6 tonight.

ZEKE: Alright.

GRAYSON: you good?

ZEKE: sure.

"Well. I have to leave," I say quickly.

"You just got here."

"I swear, it's work..." I shake my head at my phone. "I mean, if you just came over tonight I'd be up for something. And you know, there's that whole 'nobody would see us' thing." Right as I finish my sentence, my phone rings. Unknown number. It's still fifteen till six, and I'm hoping I don't have to actually speak to this woman for more than half an hour.

"Hello, Zeke Hartigan of OrtegaTech Colorado. How may I help you?"

"It's Beth, jackass. Get the stick out of your butt."

Beth Hartigan.

I gently push Gabriel away from me, and rest my free hand gently on his cheek. I must look as if I've seen a ghost, because Gabe is looking concerned. Beth is my little sister. My favorite sibling; the only one who doesn't hate me and didn't fall for the conservative brainwashing my parents tried to do. I, for some ridiculous reason, decided that telling my parents that I was gay would be no big deal.

If I hadn't been graduating the next month, they would've kicked me out.

All of my siblings jumped the "Zeke is a fag" bandwagon, except two; Beth because she thought I could never do any wrong, and Joshua, because he was my closest brother. Although he would sometimes join in on my mother, Lillian's, rants about how much of a rotten fag I was, I knew he only did it to deflect any criticism of HIS condition. He's been smoking weed since he was thirteen, and moved onto prescription drugs at sixteen.

Joshua is twenty-six now, and too hippie to talk to the likes of me. Beth just turned eighteen two months ago, and Lillian didn't even let me speak to her. I can't wait until she graduates. She wants to move closer to me and go to school where I can keep an eye on her. I can only imagine what it's like being the second youngest sibling and having Lillian and Matthew as parents. Beth is a rebel, too.

"God, you have a phone?" I rave.

"Uh, duh. Bought it myself," Beth snorts through the receiver. "Hope you're not busy making millions of dollars or whatever."

"I wish," I chuckle. "Hey, I tried to call the house on your birthday but Lillian cursed at me in Bible language and blocked my number."

"She's doing that a lot lately. I think she has Alzheimer's. Meh. Probably for the best. She's psychotic, Zeke. She hit me with a hairbrush because I got my ears pierced. I can't wait to leave," Beth groans. "You sound busy. Are you busy?"

"No—well, a little. Not a big deal. I have a lot to tell you about but it's going to take forever. I get of work in an hour and a half. Call me at 7:30," I explain. Gabriel loosens his tie and sighs, walking around to sit down in his desk chair.

"Sounds good. Love you, Zeke."

"Love you, too. Bye," I respond, my voice tripping on the phrase. I'm hit with feelings that always come whenever I talk to Beth. If I had never told my parents I was gay, I would be able to talk to my little sister without restrictions. Well, maybe a little. Lillian and Matthew didn't necessarily approve of my attending Harvard or going into business, either. Beth needs me, and I can't be there for her when I can only speak to her once every few months. I haven't even seen her in close to three years.