Next Level Love
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Synopsis
When two people find out their online crushes are actually their IRL enemies, they must figure out a way to work with each other in this charming and geeky enemies-to-lovers romcom perfect for fans of Olivia Dade.
Release date: January 20, 2026
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 336
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Next Level Love
Shameez Patel
[110 weeks ago]
@theanswerisno:
Don’t go in there
@pancakesareelite:
I don’t take advice from strangers
@theanswerisno:
You’ll be dead in 3 seconds
@pancakesareelite:
Who are you and why are you in my DMs?
@theanswerisno:
2 seconds
@pancakesareelite:
I don’t trust you
@theanswerisno:
1 second
@pancakesareelite:
No
@pancakesareelite:
NO!
@theanswerisno:
Welcome to the Engineering Lobby
Main quest: Pack up my old bedroom. Side quest: Be consumed by nostalgia.
“Donate it all,” I yelled down the hallway.
I spun around on the once-black rug, which had faded to various shades of gray. There was too much to do. Growing up, I had nothing and everything at the same time. At least, that was how it felt while sorting through the stacks of used comic books, odd blocks of Legos, and shelves of superhero figurines that were already old when I’d received them.
I swung open one of the closet doors. The white plastic hangers drooped with at least ten crinkled items hanging on top of each other.
There was so much clutter. So many things my mother wouldn’t let go of.
I grabbed as many hangers off the rail as I could manage and tossed them into a box. My mother walked through the doorway at that exact moment and gasped. “You’re giving everything away?”
The scent of cinnamon reached me before she set down two steaming cups of chai. My favorite. Regardless of the weather, Mom used every opportunity to offer me a warm beverage.
She walked up to the overflowing basket in the corner. “Maybe there’s something you’d want to keep.” After rummaging through the pile, she pulled out the black-and-brown, homemade pirate costume she’d sewn the night before a kindergarten Halloween party. “You loved this.”
I took the outfit and held it against my body, which had more than doubled in height. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”
Mom burst out laughing as though I were the funniest person in the world. She had always done that, ever since I was a kid—I couldn’t resist taking advantage of it.
“I’ll bet you want to keep this.” She pulled out a box from underneath the dresser before lifting the lid and revealing my old Atari console and a stack of cartridges.
She was absolutely right about that.
“Your children will love this.” Her soft, green gaze met mine.
It was like looking into a broken mirror. The same refined nose, wide mouth, and deep brown skin, but I had my father’s brown eyes and dark lashes. And every time she looked at me, it was as though I could see her thinking about him.
Which often had me thinking about him too. About his untouched study.
No. Don’t go there. Not yet.
Shaking off the thought, I resorted to teasing my mother instead. “Who are these kids you keep mentioning?” I took the console and set it aside. “I haven’t been paying child support.”
Her hearty laugh filled the room once more. She pinched my stubbled chin, and her gold bangles jingled as they slid down her forearm. “Someday, you will make me a grandmother.”
“Humans haven’t evolved enough to procreate on our own, so…” I walked over to the other side of the room and cracked open the window. Maybe it had something to do with talking about my love life, or lack thereof, but the room was significantly stuffier than when I’d first walked in.
“Is my child not enough for you?” a voice joked from the doorway. Claire, my best friend for as long as I can remember, tossed a stack of three empty boxes at my feet. “Those are the only boxes I could find.”
“These are the only boxes you found before you got too lazy to look any further,” my mother said, pulling Claire in for a tight squeeze. “Where is your handsome husband and wonderful little girl?”
“Daddy-and-daughter playdate.” Claire kicked off her sandals and glanced around. “Hey, when did you move the bed?”
“Last week,” I said, rubbing my lower back, which had paid the price.
The oven timer pinged, and my mother lifted her index finger. “Be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, Claire hoisted herself onto the desk and rummaged around in her tote bag before pulling out a novel.
“You don’t look like you’re here to help.” I took off my glasses and cleaned them using the end of my T-shirt.
“Moral support,” she said, and placed her finger on her lips. “Now shush, the enemies are about to become lovers.”
I stifled a laugh and kept my mouth shut as instructed. I preferred it that way and enjoyed the sound of Claire turning the page, the traffic that had become white noise, and the distinct sound of my mother using her glass cutting board.
With a deep inhale, I continued my quest to clear this room. If I finished early enough, I could squeeze in a gaming session before bed, and maybe, just maybe, Lily would be online to play with me.
But as much as I wanted to throw everything in the donations box, I got stuck. My brain got stuck. Some items stopped me for a few seconds while others pulled me back to a previous life, keeping me there.
Traffic picked up, and instead of the quiet hum from earlier, there was hooting and the jarring sound of different songs and radio stations overlapping. I could hear the birds. I could hear the neighbors talking. I could hear too much.
I stared at the item in my hand. Frozen. I couldn’t think of anything except for everything I was hearing.
“Much better,” Claire said as the window snapped shut.
Silence filled the room, and the buzz in my brain softened. She offered me a knowing smile before climbing the desk and resuming her reading journey.
My mother reappeared, and Claire shoved her book underneath her thigh. Mom shot her a playful glare and then turned her attention to me. “Lincoln, I forgot to tell you, there’s a leaky faucet in the kitchen. Could you check it out?”
“Sounds like a job for a plumber.” I straightened to my full height, which put me more than a head above her. “I could call one.”
She laughed as if it were the most absurd suggestion before grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the kitchen, where the left-side faucet released a small droplet every few seconds.
“We can fix it ourselves,” she said.
I grew up hearing that line, and for the longest time, it was true.
“I design roads and analyze traffic.” I leaned in, scrutinizing the shiny faucet.
“Exactly. Roads are like pipes, and traffic is like water, same thing.” She waved her hands and left the kitchen, allowing me time to search for YouTube tutorials on the basics of plumbing.
Mid-tutorial, Mom returned. The kettle boiled for our fourth cup of chai, and gathering from the lemony scent, cake would be involved.
She offered me a slice of carrot cake with lemon icing. “Thank you for doing this. You’re a good son.”
Never knowing what to do when she said these things, I shrugged and smiled. “Well, I haven’t completed any of the things I came here to do. So don’t thank me yet.” I opened and closed the faucet, testing the pressure. “I’ll have to stop at the hardware store. I don’t suppose you’ll hand over this place with this tiny flaw?”
“It has to be perfect.”
I shoved a forkful of cake into my mouth, savoring the sweet and sour combination.
“How’s work?” Mom stared at me while I stared at the faucet, willing it to stop leaking because there was only so much the internet could teach me in half an hour.
I swallowed the cake. “Oh… um…”
Before I could ramble off my potential news, Claire walked in, her nose still stuck between the pages of her novel.
My mother offered her a slice of cake but kept her focus on me. “When will they let you know about the promotion? You work so hard for this company. They don’t recognize your efforts.”
Claire’s gaze zapped upward. “You haven’t told her yet?”
My mouth dropped open, and my mother ran forward and pinched my shoulder.
“Ow,” I yelped.
“Really, Lincoln?” Mom narrowed her eyes but couldn’t resist smiling. “Why didn’t you lead with that? So you got it?”
“Did you just come here to cause trouble?” I asked Claire. “I was about to tell her.”
Claire grinned. “Your mom gives me cake in exchange for secrets about you.”
“It’s hardly a secret…” I shifted on my feet. “They haven’t promoted me. They’re offering me a temporary post as the acting manager of the Roads division to see if I can handle it.”
My mother’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Of course you can handle it. What are they implying? You’ve been there for over a decade, and you’re the best civil engineer there.”
“Engineer? Very possibly.” I doubted everything in my life but not my technical knowledge. There couldn’t be doubt in a field where there was no room for error. “Manager? Very questionable.”
“I’ve never liked your boss. He always seemed jealous of your brilliance,” Mom said. If my mother was a cartoon character, a puff of smoke would erupt from her head. “How does he plan on testing you now?”
“Well… I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Obviously, I’ll have to work on more projects and”—I threw my head back, groaning—“manage people.”
“We know how you feel about people.” Claire burst out laughing. My mother joined her.
I glared at them.
“We’re teasing.” Mom patted my shoulder. “I’m sure all the people you work with will be exactly like you.”
“That would be a nightmare.” I picked up my phone and scrolled through another step-by-step tutorial on fixing a leak. At the very least, it distracted me from my growing discomfort at the idea of having people following me around at work, asking me questions.
My mother laughed again and pulled me in for a tight hug.
“Do you think you can do it?” Claire asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
I shrugged, wiggling out of my mother’s powerful grip. “I don’t know… I like design and theory. I don’t know if I want to or can manage and—” My words cut off the second I spotted my beaming mother. I found myself nodding, fighting the grimace threatening to creep onto my face.
“Oh, Lincoln.” She smiled. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You have your dad’s brain and all the opportunities he didn’t, thanks to how very hard he worked. He always spoke about the civil engineers with such admiration.” Her brows bunched, and her eyes grew misty. “Seeing you achieve this is a dream come true. A manager in the family.” She walked away and grabbed her phone. “I must tell my sisters.”
My throat tightened. All the hesitation I had regarding this promotion was replaced by a strong sense of duty. She was right. My dad had worked himself to the bone for us, and he’d have been so proud. We’d spent countless hours driving through town talking about the buildings he’d laid bricks on or tiles he’d grouted. He was the reason I went into engineering.
The longing settled in my bones, in my chest. Everything ached.
Before my mom could say anything more about me, my tentative promotion, or my father, I turned the questions on her. I moved the conversation to her book club, crochet club (not to be confused with her knitting club), and when the new house may be ready for her and her new family to move in.
“Oh.” Mom turned away and wiped the already clean counters. “You know, it’s already ready. It’s just that it takes time to move and pack and…” She inhaled a shaky breath.
She didn’t have to explain how hard it was to leave this place behind.
Despite being as close as can be, conversations with my mom often felt like a game of hot potato. We tossed around the hard topics, afraid of being burned.
Claire snapped her book shut. “Enough boring talk. It’s my turn, and I want to tell you about the hot, grumpy pirate who is, obviously, in love with the girl who has nothing but a knife and determination.”
I grinned as she recounted the three books before this one. For some reason, I was reminded of Lily. Maybe it was because her weapon of choice—in most of the games we played online—was a knife. Maybe it was her sheer determination to win despite being outranked by most of her challengers. Maybe it was because sometimes it felt as though I were falling in love with her.
Whatever it was, once I started thinking about Lily, it was hard to stop. Because thinking about Lily was the easiest thing in the world.
And I thought about her often.
As if summoned, my phone lit up and her username flashed across my screen. I couldn’t resist the smile stretching across my face.
@pancakesareelite:
I’m ready when you are.
[108 weeks ago]
@pancakesareelite:
What do you do when you’re not playing games with me?
@theanswerisno:
Play games with other people
@pancakesareelite:
Traitor!
@theanswerisno:
I’m an engineer
@pancakesareelite:
Well, duh. I assumed that much. This server was created by an SDSU engineering student for engineering students, wasn’t it?
@theanswerisno:
Yep
@pancakesareelite:
You’re not going to tell me anything else about yourself?
@theanswerisno:
I am also my mother’s handyman.
For free, I might add
@pancakesareelite:
A man of many talents
@theanswerisno:
What do you do?
@pancakesareelite:
I’m still trying to figure that out
Was there such a thing as too much makeup? Based on how everyone’s eyes widened upon meeting me, I must have rivaled the Joker.
Which was less than ideal on my first day of the most competitive engineering internship in California.
Any civil engineering graduate would kill to be in my position. Every year, Simucon would invite only six graduates from across the country to participate in their eight-week internship.
This year, they hired seven. I was the seventh intern, and I know this because they listed us in order of acceptance in their welcome email.
But still, they accepted me. They created an extra slot for me. Whether that was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell. But now was not the time for spiraling as one of the directors, Mr. Anders, walked me through the office.
He marched around with his chest puffed out. Raised with money, raised to be confident. In theory, so was I. But it never stuck. To avoid being scolded for it time and time again, I became good at faking it, and that took me far enough. Sometimes in the wrong direction.
Parties. Drugs. Men.
Mr. Anders pushed open the next office door, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Carden!” he yelled.
While the room was the same size as all the others, it was far more spacious because it only housed one person, rather than two or three. The man who sat behind the desk scowled at his computer, unbothered by our arrival. Mr. Anders tapped on his desk, but the man, who appeared to be younger than him—perhaps midthirties with a head of pitch-black hair, brown skin, and dark eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses—lifted a finger on his left hand, silencing the director while his right hand clicked furiously. The fierce frown between his dark brows was noticeable from afar. After a second, he sighed, tore off his headset, and looked up.
He was rather handsome.
Like everyone else, his eyes widened for a second as he did a quick take of my suit coat, fitted pencil skirt, and heels—which I would never wear to this office again.
His gaze traveled back up to meet mine. Wait. No. It settled about a quarter inch above my eyes.
Is he looking at my forehead? Do I have a zit?
I lifted my chin, summoning faux confidence, and wiped my clammy palms across my skirt.
Mr. Anders gestured toward me, a coy smile on his face I didn’t quite like. “We have fresh blood! Meet Elizabeth.” For a moment, I thought he may not use my surname, that perhaps I’d be spared this one time, but it seemed he had only paused for effect. As soon as the man stood, taller than I’d imagined he’d be, and reached out his hand, Mr. Anders added with a flourish, “Elizabeth Gordon-Bettencourt.”
If the man was surprised, impressed, or disgusted, he didn’t show it.
I took his hand, and it swallowed mine.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, as if it wasn’t often used.
Before he could introduce himself, Mr. Anders spoke again. “Mr. Lincoln Carden. Acting manager of the Roads department.”
Mr. Lincoln Carden’s brown gaze dipped to meet mine for the briefest moment, and it knocked the air out of me. I’d never been perceived with such intensity.
My fingertips tingled with nerves. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Carden.”
“Likewise.” He glanced at Mr. Anders and raised a brow.
“Elizabeth is one of the new interns.”
Mr. Carden rested a hip on his desk and folded his arms across his wide chest. “Another intern? I counted six of them earlier.”
The two men shared a look I’d undoubtedly replay in my head and analyze later.
“Well, lucky number seven and all that.” Mr. Anders waved a hand around and then gestured toward me. “And uh… Elizabeth here is particularly interested in Roads.”
“Okay” was all Mr. Carden said.
Mr. Anders smiled but it came across as more of a grimace. “And with the current renovations, we’re tight on space and…”
“No.”
My mouth went dry at his quick and curt response. But Mr. Anders sighed deeply and shrugged. “You’ll be in charge of her development before the final test.”
The final test at the end of the internship was often referred to but never described in detail. The scraps of information I had were the driving force behind my application.
Mr. Carden frowned, falling back into the seat behind him before rubbing his face.
My stomach dropped. I resisted the urge to apologize for being an obvious inconvenience. I shifted on my feet, letting my gaze wander across his workstation. Nothing hinted at his personality. No photos. No trinkets. Not even a little plant.
“You know how I work.” Mr. Carden dropped his head.
“It’s a few weeks and she’ll have to do work for some of the other managers too. Wait, you have plenty of projects currently in construction, don’t you?”
Lincoln Carden whispered something that was likely a curse even though I couldn’t hear it. His sky-blue shirt stretched across his strong chest as he took a deep breath.
“You should probably take her with you,” Mr. Anders said with an almost impish grin. He seemed to be enjoying this.
Both men took in my outfit without looking at my face. I should not have worn these high-heeled boots, but I would not let these men judge me for wanting to look nice.
I tucked a tendril of copper hair behind my ear. “I can go on-site if that’s required.”
“I assume you don’t have the correct PPE with you today.” Mr. Carden pursed his lips to one side as his gaze dropped from my very interesting forehead to my shoes. “And I doubt anyone has a spare size six safety boot around here.”
“Six and a half,” I bit out, as if it mattered. But I was tired of being bullied. I was raised by the world’s biggest bully. I didn’t escape him just so I could be belittled elsewhere. “Just because I’m an intern doesn’t mean I’m a waste of time. You were wet behind the ears once.”
He sighed as if this hadn’t occurred to him. As if he’d been born a fully functional senior engineer. He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.
This seemed to amuse Mr. Anders. “Don’t worry about it, Carden. It’ll be over in no time. That being said, you should probably enjoy your last few hours of peace before this one joins you.” He turned to me, stifling a chuckle. “Come on, I need to get you to the others. HR has a whole presentation setup. There’ll be little sandwiches and things too.”
Mr. Carden slipped his glasses back on and turned to his computer. He didn’t say anything else.
All the other managers had greeted me with smiles. Mr. Carden didn’t even care enough to fake pleasantries.
He also happened to be in charge of the department I hoped to work in. The one who would determine if I was ready for the final test. The unknown factor standing between me and a future at Simucon.
Crap.
[107 weeks ago]
@pancakesareelite:
Help meeeee
@pancakesareelite:
If we teamed up, I would level up so much faster and then they can all suck it for making fun of me
@theanswerisno:
I’m already on 987xp.
What’s in it for me?
@pancakesareelite:
My eternal gratitude?
@pancakesareelite:
Virtual kisses, xxxxxxx
@pancakesareelite:
Thoughts and prayers?
@theanswerisno:
Hmm…
@pancakesareelite:
Fine. I’ll play that scary game you keep mentioning that no one else wants to play
@theanswerisno:
You got yourself a deal.
As soon as Anders and the new intern left, I marched out of my office and into his. I sat on the brown leather seat across from his desk and waited.
“Carden,” Anders said as he walked through the door and took his place on the other side of the desk. “How can I help you?”
“I didn’t want to say any of this in front of the new intern, but I don’t appreciate being blindsided,” I said, panic and anger heating my chest.
“Blindsided?” Anders scoffed. “What do you mean? Because she’s even more gorgeous in real life?”
“Anders,” I seethed.
Her beauty had nothing to do with this.
Anders’s brows popped up. “Or because she’s Douglas Gordon-
Bettencourt’s daughter?”
“I don’t care about that,” I said.
He laughed, waving me off. “I sent you an email about the intern with all her details and everything. If you kept up with your new management duties, you’d have been better prepared.”
I scanned through my memories. “When?”
“Last week, when I had IT forward all of Saunders’s emails to you. The intern was going to be Saunders’s problem, until he resigned.” He grinned, not bothering to hide the pleasure he took in my pain.
“Apologies,” I ground out. My frustration ping-ponged from Anders to me. Catching up on those emails was on my list of things to do… but the list kept growing. “There are hundreds to get through. Did you know all of Saunders’s projects are in crisis mode?”
“We think that’s why he resigned. Couldn’t handle the pressure.” Anders frowned and looked down at his steepled hands. “Can you?”
Taken aback by his directness, I flinched but quickly regained my composure. I was careful not to let the mask of confidence slip at work. The version of Lincoln they knew had earned their trust and respect. I planned on keeping it that way.
Anders leaned backward and sighed. “You know, Carden, I was surprised when I saw your application to take Saunders’s place. You never struck me as someone who’d want to manage.”
I didn’t.
But I could almost see my mother’s wide smile and hear the excitement in her voice when she spoke about it.
Besides, I didn’t like that Anders thought I couldn’t do it.
I stood. “It was a natural next step for my career.” My hand fell on the backrest of the chair and rubbed back and forth along the smooth fabric. “I’ll deal with the intern, but it took me by surprise. I haven’t shared an office with anyone since I was an intern.”
“Since you were the top engineer in our internship.” Anders moved his mouse, waking his laptop. “The only reason we kept you on your own was because you excelled that way, and it benefited the company. Managers can’t work alone, so if you want this job…” Anders’s gaze fell on my fidgeting hand.
I tucked my fist into my pocket. “I get it.”
“Now, off you go. Please read the email. We have scheduled meetings around everyone’s calendars to discuss the interns’ progress.”
With a final nod, I left his office. Thoughts rushed through my mind, replaying our conversation. There were so many other, better ways I could have handled that. I kept my head down and snaked through the hallway back to my office.
Thankfully, the intern wasn’t there yet. If this year’s internship followed standard procedure, she and the other interns would be stuck with HR for the next few hours as they learned about company policy and cyber safety and were forced to watch what was essentially a Simucon propaganda video about how it was the best firm in the world.
I closed my door behind me and let out a long exhale. On second thought, I should probably keep my door open, as I’d now be dealing with everyone’s problems as well as my own.
I opened the door. Nope. Too exposed. Cracked. I’d leave it cracked.
My focus was shattered. I grabbed my noise-canceling headset and slipped it on before reading my dreaded to-do list. My therapist insisted I create one every morning to help get into the right headspace before work or before doing anything that needed my limited attention span to cooperate.
I added a new task at the top of the list: Catch up on emails.
But catching up was hard to do when an unread email from my thesis supervisor piqued my interest. Resistance was futile. With a quick click, I opened the email.
Don’t forget the International Conference on Traffic and Transportation Engineering is coming up! If you can’t make it, I’ll present on your behalf, but I’m really hoping you’ll come. We need to catch up. I have a proposal for you.
. . .
@theanswerisno:
Don’t go in there
@pancakesareelite:
I don’t take advice from strangers
@theanswerisno:
You’ll be dead in 3 seconds
@pancakesareelite:
Who are you and why are you in my DMs?
@theanswerisno:
2 seconds
@pancakesareelite:
I don’t trust you
@theanswerisno:
1 second
@pancakesareelite:
No
@pancakesareelite:
NO!
@theanswerisno:
Welcome to the Engineering Lobby
Main quest: Pack up my old bedroom. Side quest: Be consumed by nostalgia.
“Donate it all,” I yelled down the hallway.
I spun around on the once-black rug, which had faded to various shades of gray. There was too much to do. Growing up, I had nothing and everything at the same time. At least, that was how it felt while sorting through the stacks of used comic books, odd blocks of Legos, and shelves of superhero figurines that were already old when I’d received them.
I swung open one of the closet doors. The white plastic hangers drooped with at least ten crinkled items hanging on top of each other.
There was so much clutter. So many things my mother wouldn’t let go of.
I grabbed as many hangers off the rail as I could manage and tossed them into a box. My mother walked through the doorway at that exact moment and gasped. “You’re giving everything away?”
The scent of cinnamon reached me before she set down two steaming cups of chai. My favorite. Regardless of the weather, Mom used every opportunity to offer me a warm beverage.
She walked up to the overflowing basket in the corner. “Maybe there’s something you’d want to keep.” After rummaging through the pile, she pulled out the black-and-brown, homemade pirate costume she’d sewn the night before a kindergarten Halloween party. “You loved this.”
I took the outfit and held it against my body, which had more than doubled in height. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”
Mom burst out laughing as though I were the funniest person in the world. She had always done that, ever since I was a kid—I couldn’t resist taking advantage of it.
“I’ll bet you want to keep this.” She pulled out a box from underneath the dresser before lifting the lid and revealing my old Atari console and a stack of cartridges.
She was absolutely right about that.
“Your children will love this.” Her soft, green gaze met mine.
It was like looking into a broken mirror. The same refined nose, wide mouth, and deep brown skin, but I had my father’s brown eyes and dark lashes. And every time she looked at me, it was as though I could see her thinking about him.
Which often had me thinking about him too. About his untouched study.
No. Don’t go there. Not yet.
Shaking off the thought, I resorted to teasing my mother instead. “Who are these kids you keep mentioning?” I took the console and set it aside. “I haven’t been paying child support.”
Her hearty laugh filled the room once more. She pinched my stubbled chin, and her gold bangles jingled as they slid down her forearm. “Someday, you will make me a grandmother.”
“Humans haven’t evolved enough to procreate on our own, so…” I walked over to the other side of the room and cracked open the window. Maybe it had something to do with talking about my love life, or lack thereof, but the room was significantly stuffier than when I’d first walked in.
“Is my child not enough for you?” a voice joked from the doorway. Claire, my best friend for as long as I can remember, tossed a stack of three empty boxes at my feet. “Those are the only boxes I could find.”
“These are the only boxes you found before you got too lazy to look any further,” my mother said, pulling Claire in for a tight squeeze. “Where is your handsome husband and wonderful little girl?”
“Daddy-and-daughter playdate.” Claire kicked off her sandals and glanced around. “Hey, when did you move the bed?”
“Last week,” I said, rubbing my lower back, which had paid the price.
The oven timer pinged, and my mother lifted her index finger. “Be right back.”
As soon as she was gone, Claire hoisted herself onto the desk and rummaged around in her tote bag before pulling out a novel.
“You don’t look like you’re here to help.” I took off my glasses and cleaned them using the end of my T-shirt.
“Moral support,” she said, and placed her finger on her lips. “Now shush, the enemies are about to become lovers.”
I stifled a laugh and kept my mouth shut as instructed. I preferred it that way and enjoyed the sound of Claire turning the page, the traffic that had become white noise, and the distinct sound of my mother using her glass cutting board.
With a deep inhale, I continued my quest to clear this room. If I finished early enough, I could squeeze in a gaming session before bed, and maybe, just maybe, Lily would be online to play with me.
But as much as I wanted to throw everything in the donations box, I got stuck. My brain got stuck. Some items stopped me for a few seconds while others pulled me back to a previous life, keeping me there.
Traffic picked up, and instead of the quiet hum from earlier, there was hooting and the jarring sound of different songs and radio stations overlapping. I could hear the birds. I could hear the neighbors talking. I could hear too much.
I stared at the item in my hand. Frozen. I couldn’t think of anything except for everything I was hearing.
“Much better,” Claire said as the window snapped shut.
Silence filled the room, and the buzz in my brain softened. She offered me a knowing smile before climbing the desk and resuming her reading journey.
My mother reappeared, and Claire shoved her book underneath her thigh. Mom shot her a playful glare and then turned her attention to me. “Lincoln, I forgot to tell you, there’s a leaky faucet in the kitchen. Could you check it out?”
“Sounds like a job for a plumber.” I straightened to my full height, which put me more than a head above her. “I could call one.”
She laughed as if it were the most absurd suggestion before grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the kitchen, where the left-side faucet released a small droplet every few seconds.
“We can fix it ourselves,” she said.
I grew up hearing that line, and for the longest time, it was true.
“I design roads and analyze traffic.” I leaned in, scrutinizing the shiny faucet.
“Exactly. Roads are like pipes, and traffic is like water, same thing.” She waved her hands and left the kitchen, allowing me time to search for YouTube tutorials on the basics of plumbing.
Mid-tutorial, Mom returned. The kettle boiled for our fourth cup of chai, and gathering from the lemony scent, cake would be involved.
She offered me a slice of carrot cake with lemon icing. “Thank you for doing this. You’re a good son.”
Never knowing what to do when she said these things, I shrugged and smiled. “Well, I haven’t completed any of the things I came here to do. So don’t thank me yet.” I opened and closed the faucet, testing the pressure. “I’ll have to stop at the hardware store. I don’t suppose you’ll hand over this place with this tiny flaw?”
“It has to be perfect.”
I shoved a forkful of cake into my mouth, savoring the sweet and sour combination.
“How’s work?” Mom stared at me while I stared at the faucet, willing it to stop leaking because there was only so much the internet could teach me in half an hour.
I swallowed the cake. “Oh… um…”
Before I could ramble off my potential news, Claire walked in, her nose still stuck between the pages of her novel.
My mother offered her a slice of cake but kept her focus on me. “When will they let you know about the promotion? You work so hard for this company. They don’t recognize your efforts.”
Claire’s gaze zapped upward. “You haven’t told her yet?”
My mouth dropped open, and my mother ran forward and pinched my shoulder.
“Ow,” I yelped.
“Really, Lincoln?” Mom narrowed her eyes but couldn’t resist smiling. “Why didn’t you lead with that? So you got it?”
“Did you just come here to cause trouble?” I asked Claire. “I was about to tell her.”
Claire grinned. “Your mom gives me cake in exchange for secrets about you.”
“It’s hardly a secret…” I shifted on my feet. “They haven’t promoted me. They’re offering me a temporary post as the acting manager of the Roads division to see if I can handle it.”
My mother’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Of course you can handle it. What are they implying? You’ve been there for over a decade, and you’re the best civil engineer there.”
“Engineer? Very possibly.” I doubted everything in my life but not my technical knowledge. There couldn’t be doubt in a field where there was no room for error. “Manager? Very questionable.”
“I’ve never liked your boss. He always seemed jealous of your brilliance,” Mom said. If my mother was a cartoon character, a puff of smoke would erupt from her head. “How does he plan on testing you now?”
“Well… I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. Obviously, I’ll have to work on more projects and”—I threw my head back, groaning—“manage people.”
“We know how you feel about people.” Claire burst out laughing. My mother joined her.
I glared at them.
“We’re teasing.” Mom patted my shoulder. “I’m sure all the people you work with will be exactly like you.”
“That would be a nightmare.” I picked up my phone and scrolled through another step-by-step tutorial on fixing a leak. At the very least, it distracted me from my growing discomfort at the idea of having people following me around at work, asking me questions.
My mother laughed again and pulled me in for a tight hug.
“Do you think you can do it?” Claire asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
I shrugged, wiggling out of my mother’s powerful grip. “I don’t know… I like design and theory. I don’t know if I want to or can manage and—” My words cut off the second I spotted my beaming mother. I found myself nodding, fighting the grimace threatening to creep onto my face.
“Oh, Lincoln.” She smiled. “You can do anything you put your mind to. You have your dad’s brain and all the opportunities he didn’t, thanks to how very hard he worked. He always spoke about the civil engineers with such admiration.” Her brows bunched, and her eyes grew misty. “Seeing you achieve this is a dream come true. A manager in the family.” She walked away and grabbed her phone. “I must tell my sisters.”
My throat tightened. All the hesitation I had regarding this promotion was replaced by a strong sense of duty. She was right. My dad had worked himself to the bone for us, and he’d have been so proud. We’d spent countless hours driving through town talking about the buildings he’d laid bricks on or tiles he’d grouted. He was the reason I went into engineering.
The longing settled in my bones, in my chest. Everything ached.
Before my mom could say anything more about me, my tentative promotion, or my father, I turned the questions on her. I moved the conversation to her book club, crochet club (not to be confused with her knitting club), and when the new house may be ready for her and her new family to move in.
“Oh.” Mom turned away and wiped the already clean counters. “You know, it’s already ready. It’s just that it takes time to move and pack and…” She inhaled a shaky breath.
She didn’t have to explain how hard it was to leave this place behind.
Despite being as close as can be, conversations with my mom often felt like a game of hot potato. We tossed around the hard topics, afraid of being burned.
Claire snapped her book shut. “Enough boring talk. It’s my turn, and I want to tell you about the hot, grumpy pirate who is, obviously, in love with the girl who has nothing but a knife and determination.”
I grinned as she recounted the three books before this one. For some reason, I was reminded of Lily. Maybe it was because her weapon of choice—in most of the games we played online—was a knife. Maybe it was her sheer determination to win despite being outranked by most of her challengers. Maybe it was because sometimes it felt as though I were falling in love with her.
Whatever it was, once I started thinking about Lily, it was hard to stop. Because thinking about Lily was the easiest thing in the world.
And I thought about her often.
As if summoned, my phone lit up and her username flashed across my screen. I couldn’t resist the smile stretching across my face.
@pancakesareelite:
I’m ready when you are.
[108 weeks ago]
@pancakesareelite:
What do you do when you’re not playing games with me?
@theanswerisno:
Play games with other people
@pancakesareelite:
Traitor!
@theanswerisno:
I’m an engineer
@pancakesareelite:
Well, duh. I assumed that much. This server was created by an SDSU engineering student for engineering students, wasn’t it?
@theanswerisno:
Yep
@pancakesareelite:
You’re not going to tell me anything else about yourself?
@theanswerisno:
I am also my mother’s handyman.
For free, I might add
@pancakesareelite:
A man of many talents
@theanswerisno:
What do you do?
@pancakesareelite:
I’m still trying to figure that out
Was there such a thing as too much makeup? Based on how everyone’s eyes widened upon meeting me, I must have rivaled the Joker.
Which was less than ideal on my first day of the most competitive engineering internship in California.
Any civil engineering graduate would kill to be in my position. Every year, Simucon would invite only six graduates from across the country to participate in their eight-week internship.
This year, they hired seven. I was the seventh intern, and I know this because they listed us in order of acceptance in their welcome email.
But still, they accepted me. They created an extra slot for me. Whether that was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell. But now was not the time for spiraling as one of the directors, Mr. Anders, walked me through the office.
He marched around with his chest puffed out. Raised with money, raised to be confident. In theory, so was I. But it never stuck. To avoid being scolded for it time and time again, I became good at faking it, and that took me far enough. Sometimes in the wrong direction.
Parties. Drugs. Men.
Mr. Anders pushed open the next office door, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Carden!” he yelled.
While the room was the same size as all the others, it was far more spacious because it only housed one person, rather than two or three. The man who sat behind the desk scowled at his computer, unbothered by our arrival. Mr. Anders tapped on his desk, but the man, who appeared to be younger than him—perhaps midthirties with a head of pitch-black hair, brown skin, and dark eyes hiding behind a pair of glasses—lifted a finger on his left hand, silencing the director while his right hand clicked furiously. The fierce frown between his dark brows was noticeable from afar. After a second, he sighed, tore off his headset, and looked up.
He was rather handsome.
Like everyone else, his eyes widened for a second as he did a quick take of my suit coat, fitted pencil skirt, and heels—which I would never wear to this office again.
His gaze traveled back up to meet mine. Wait. No. It settled about a quarter inch above my eyes.
Is he looking at my forehead? Do I have a zit?
I lifted my chin, summoning faux confidence, and wiped my clammy palms across my skirt.
Mr. Anders gestured toward me, a coy smile on his face I didn’t quite like. “We have fresh blood! Meet Elizabeth.” For a moment, I thought he may not use my surname, that perhaps I’d be spared this one time, but it seemed he had only paused for effect. As soon as the man stood, taller than I’d imagined he’d be, and reached out his hand, Mr. Anders added with a flourish, “Elizabeth Gordon-Bettencourt.”
If the man was surprised, impressed, or disgusted, he didn’t show it.
I took his hand, and it swallowed mine.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, as if it wasn’t often used.
Before he could introduce himself, Mr. Anders spoke again. “Mr. Lincoln Carden. Acting manager of the Roads department.”
Mr. Lincoln Carden’s brown gaze dipped to meet mine for the briefest moment, and it knocked the air out of me. I’d never been perceived with such intensity.
My fingertips tingled with nerves. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Carden.”
“Likewise.” He glanced at Mr. Anders and raised a brow.
“Elizabeth is one of the new interns.”
Mr. Carden rested a hip on his desk and folded his arms across his wide chest. “Another intern? I counted six of them earlier.”
The two men shared a look I’d undoubtedly replay in my head and analyze later.
“Well, lucky number seven and all that.” Mr. Anders waved a hand around and then gestured toward me. “And uh… Elizabeth here is particularly interested in Roads.”
“Okay” was all Mr. Carden said.
Mr. Anders smiled but it came across as more of a grimace. “And with the current renovations, we’re tight on space and…”
“No.”
My mouth went dry at his quick and curt response. But Mr. Anders sighed deeply and shrugged. “You’ll be in charge of her development before the final test.”
The final test at the end of the internship was often referred to but never described in detail. The scraps of information I had were the driving force behind my application.
Mr. Carden frowned, falling back into the seat behind him before rubbing his face.
My stomach dropped. I resisted the urge to apologize for being an obvious inconvenience. I shifted on my feet, letting my gaze wander across his workstation. Nothing hinted at his personality. No photos. No trinkets. Not even a little plant.
“You know how I work.” Mr. Carden dropped his head.
“It’s a few weeks and she’ll have to do work for some of the other managers too. Wait, you have plenty of projects currently in construction, don’t you?”
Lincoln Carden whispered something that was likely a curse even though I couldn’t hear it. His sky-blue shirt stretched across his strong chest as he took a deep breath.
“You should probably take her with you,” Mr. Anders said with an almost impish grin. He seemed to be enjoying this.
Both men took in my outfit without looking at my face. I should not have worn these high-heeled boots, but I would not let these men judge me for wanting to look nice.
I tucked a tendril of copper hair behind my ear. “I can go on-site if that’s required.”
“I assume you don’t have the correct PPE with you today.” Mr. Carden pursed his lips to one side as his gaze dropped from my very interesting forehead to my shoes. “And I doubt anyone has a spare size six safety boot around here.”
“Six and a half,” I bit out, as if it mattered. But I was tired of being bullied. I was raised by the world’s biggest bully. I didn’t escape him just so I could be belittled elsewhere. “Just because I’m an intern doesn’t mean I’m a waste of time. You were wet behind the ears once.”
He sighed as if this hadn’t occurred to him. As if he’d been born a fully functional senior engineer. He took off his glasses and rubbed his temples.
This seemed to amuse Mr. Anders. “Don’t worry about it, Carden. It’ll be over in no time. That being said, you should probably enjoy your last few hours of peace before this one joins you.” He turned to me, stifling a chuckle. “Come on, I need to get you to the others. HR has a whole presentation setup. There’ll be little sandwiches and things too.”
Mr. Carden slipped his glasses back on and turned to his computer. He didn’t say anything else.
All the other managers had greeted me with smiles. Mr. Carden didn’t even care enough to fake pleasantries.
He also happened to be in charge of the department I hoped to work in. The one who would determine if I was ready for the final test. The unknown factor standing between me and a future at Simucon.
Crap.
[107 weeks ago]
@pancakesareelite:
Help meeeee
@pancakesareelite:
If we teamed up, I would level up so much faster and then they can all suck it for making fun of me
@theanswerisno:
I’m already on 987xp.
What’s in it for me?
@pancakesareelite:
My eternal gratitude?
@pancakesareelite:
Virtual kisses, xxxxxxx
@pancakesareelite:
Thoughts and prayers?
@theanswerisno:
Hmm…
@pancakesareelite:
Fine. I’ll play that scary game you keep mentioning that no one else wants to play
@theanswerisno:
You got yourself a deal.
As soon as Anders and the new intern left, I marched out of my office and into his. I sat on the brown leather seat across from his desk and waited.
“Carden,” Anders said as he walked through the door and took his place on the other side of the desk. “How can I help you?”
“I didn’t want to say any of this in front of the new intern, but I don’t appreciate being blindsided,” I said, panic and anger heating my chest.
“Blindsided?” Anders scoffed. “What do you mean? Because she’s even more gorgeous in real life?”
“Anders,” I seethed.
Her beauty had nothing to do with this.
Anders’s brows popped up. “Or because she’s Douglas Gordon-
Bettencourt’s daughter?”
“I don’t care about that,” I said.
He laughed, waving me off. “I sent you an email about the intern with all her details and everything. If you kept up with your new management duties, you’d have been better prepared.”
I scanned through my memories. “When?”
“Last week, when I had IT forward all of Saunders’s emails to you. The intern was going to be Saunders’s problem, until he resigned.” He grinned, not bothering to hide the pleasure he took in my pain.
“Apologies,” I ground out. My frustration ping-ponged from Anders to me. Catching up on those emails was on my list of things to do… but the list kept growing. “There are hundreds to get through. Did you know all of Saunders’s projects are in crisis mode?”
“We think that’s why he resigned. Couldn’t handle the pressure.” Anders frowned and looked down at his steepled hands. “Can you?”
Taken aback by his directness, I flinched but quickly regained my composure. I was careful not to let the mask of confidence slip at work. The version of Lincoln they knew had earned their trust and respect. I planned on keeping it that way.
Anders leaned backward and sighed. “You know, Carden, I was surprised when I saw your application to take Saunders’s place. You never struck me as someone who’d want to manage.”
I didn’t.
But I could almost see my mother’s wide smile and hear the excitement in her voice when she spoke about it.
Besides, I didn’t like that Anders thought I couldn’t do it.
I stood. “It was a natural next step for my career.” My hand fell on the backrest of the chair and rubbed back and forth along the smooth fabric. “I’ll deal with the intern, but it took me by surprise. I haven’t shared an office with anyone since I was an intern.”
“Since you were the top engineer in our internship.” Anders moved his mouse, waking his laptop. “The only reason we kept you on your own was because you excelled that way, and it benefited the company. Managers can’t work alone, so if you want this job…” Anders’s gaze fell on my fidgeting hand.
I tucked my fist into my pocket. “I get it.”
“Now, off you go. Please read the email. We have scheduled meetings around everyone’s calendars to discuss the interns’ progress.”
With a final nod, I left his office. Thoughts rushed through my mind, replaying our conversation. There were so many other, better ways I could have handled that. I kept my head down and snaked through the hallway back to my office.
Thankfully, the intern wasn’t there yet. If this year’s internship followed standard procedure, she and the other interns would be stuck with HR for the next few hours as they learned about company policy and cyber safety and were forced to watch what was essentially a Simucon propaganda video about how it was the best firm in the world.
I closed my door behind me and let out a long exhale. On second thought, I should probably keep my door open, as I’d now be dealing with everyone’s problems as well as my own.
I opened the door. Nope. Too exposed. Cracked. I’d leave it cracked.
My focus was shattered. I grabbed my noise-canceling headset and slipped it on before reading my dreaded to-do list. My therapist insisted I create one every morning to help get into the right headspace before work or before doing anything that needed my limited attention span to cooperate.
I added a new task at the top of the list: Catch up on emails.
But catching up was hard to do when an unread email from my thesis supervisor piqued my interest. Resistance was futile. With a quick click, I opened the email.
Don’t forget the International Conference on Traffic and Transportation Engineering is coming up! If you can’t make it, I’ll present on your behalf, but I’m really hoping you’ll come. We need to catch up. I have a proposal for you.
. . .
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