Chapter 4
Adrian Vega
Nicole woke before her alarm, her body already alert in a way that didn’t feel natural.
Her muscles felt loose, almost boneless, as if she’d been stretched end to end in her sleep. She lay still for a moment, taking inventory of it. Her shoulders felt pinned to the bed. Her hips ached as though she’d walked miles the day before.
Her sleep had been thick and immersive. In the dream, someone stood behind her. Close, then closer, until warm breath touched her neck. Hands gripped her hips and drew her back, then forward, guiding her into a deep arch. Fingers gripped her waist, adjusting her angle until her spine curved and held. She found herself leaning into the way fingernails bit her skin. It felt like desire. It also felt like instruction. Her body moved with it either way.
Nicole kicked off the blankets tangled between her legs and rolled onto her side. She glanced at the nightstand. The Bloomwell magnesium bottle sat beside her lamp, the cap lazily screwed back on. She vaguely remembered swallowing two capsules before bed, more out of curiosity and insomnia than commitment.
It’s just the magnesium, she told herself. She read online that it could give you crazy dreams.
She got out of bed.
In the shower, the water felt hotter than usual. Her skin seemed newly aware of itself, sensitive. Fabric brushed against her thighs like needles as she dressed, the waistband of her skirt pressing more heavily into her side than it had yesterday.
There was one long scratch running along the side of her waist.
By the time she reached Quad 2 at Bloomwell, the weirdness of the dream had dulled to something more manageable. The building smelled faintly of citrus and something metallic, clean and ascerbic like bleach.
She’d noticed the smell before in The Greenhouse. Now she couldn’t stop noticing it.
The Adminstrative Team Lead she was shadowing, Lauren, was already at her desk when Nicole arrived. She had long blonde hair in tight, glossy curls, the kind you’d see in pageant shows. Bright red lipstick and a pink blazer finished her look.
Lauren barely glanced at Nicole before handing her a stack of intake forms.
“Just watch how I do the calendar blocks,” Lauren said. “It’s easier than it looks.”
Nicole nodded and slid into the chair beside her.
Around mid-morning, a shadow fell across the low wall of the cubicle.
“Well,” a man’s voice said lightly, “I guess this is where the magic happens?”
Lauren didn’t look up. “If by magic you mean rescheduling people who forgot their own meetings, then yes.”
A beat.
“Including you.” Lauren finally turned her chair, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you have clients to charm?”
“I do,” he said. “But I prefer you.”
Nicole glanced up before she meant to.
He leaned one forearm against the cubicle wall, weight settled, posture unhurried. Dark curls were pulled back loosely from his face, the kind that would slip forward if he moved too fast. His shirt fit him cleanly, smooth across his shoulders, sleeves rolled with deliberate care. A watch with a gold face rested against his wrist, catching the light when he shifted. His skin held a deep olive tone that looked warmer up close.
Recognition moved through Nicole.
She’d seen him before.
In her kitchen, on the television, walking beside Katrina Whittle through glass hallways that looked more like showrooms than offices.
He was shorter than she’d imagined, and older too, maybe early thirties? His badge read Adrian Vega.
His gaze shifted from Lauren to Nicole. His mouth curved slightly.
He nodded once. “New shadow?”
Her stomach dipped before she had time to place why.
“Like it so far?” he asked.
His eyes held hers a fraction longer than courtesy required.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Good.”
He looked back at Lauren as if Nicole had been properly catalogued.
“You’re in the commercial,” Nicole said, before she could stop herself.
Lauren laughed.
Adrian looked at Nicole, his expression shifting into something cooler, appraising. “They put a lot of people in those,” he said flatly.
The tone was light, but dismissive, like she’d referenced something outdated or irrelevant. Nicole blushed. He shifted his weight back from the cubicle wall.
“Anyway,” he added, already turning to Lauren, “don’t let her break anything.
Lauren laughed again. “No promises.”
He smiled at that and moved on, the moment closing behind him as neatly as a door.
Nicole stared at the calendar on the screen, suddenly aware of the heat in her face.
That was stupid, she thought. She’d sounded younger than she meant to. Like someone who watched too much TV. Like someone who didn’t yet know how things worked.
“Senior Manager,” Lauren said. “Client Operations.”
Lauren leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “He hates being reminded that those commercials exist.”
“Oh,” Nicole said.
“Seriously,” Lauren went on. “We give him shit about it all the time. You saw his haircut back then?”
Nicole smiled, grateful, but the feeling didn’t fully lift, like she’d stepped into a current without seeing the water move.
Had she sounded naïve? Had she crossed some invisible line?
She focused back on the screen, but her body hadn’t caught up yet, still humming faintly from the proximity, the look, the easy way he’d closed the interaction.
He was just a guy. Attractive. Confident. Older. The kind of man who’d learned to exist comfortably in rooms like this.
Her pulse took longer than it should have to settle.
At lunch, Nicole carried her container toward the benches of Quad 2 and paused when she realized most of the seats were already full. People gathered into familiar clusters, sitting close, their conversations drifting easily.
Peter sat alone near the end of one of the benches, his bag tucked beneath his feet. He looked up when she hesitated.
“Hey,” he said. “You can sit here.”
“Thanks,” she said, and did.
Nicole popped open her lunch. Rice and beans with stewed chicken.
“Looks good,” he remarked.
“What’s yours?” she asked.
“Tinga,” he said, glancing down at his Tupperware. “Chicken.”
“You made that?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “My grandmother’s Mexican. I’m like, third-generation, technically, on my dad’s side. She taught me how to cook.”
“Oh,” Nicole said, a little surprised.
“I know,” he smiled. “Most people wouldn’t guess.”
Nicole noticed movement along the path. Mara and Lila passed with a small group, heading toward the cafeteria in Quad 1. Lila glanced over, her expression pausing for half a second when she saw Nicole sitting with Peter. Nicole lifted her hand and waved. Lila hesitated, then waved back, already turning away.
“You ever go to the cafeteria here?”
“Nah.”
“Hmmm?”
“I like knowing who cooked my food,” he said. “And I have it on good authority that the cafeteria had a rash of food poisoning last year.”
“Really?” Nicole laughed. “Good authority?”
“Lauren,” he said, laughing too. “Might’ve been the whole ‘green’ thing they try to do around here. Hard to say.”
Nicole seemed to consider that.
“How’s she, by the way? Lauren,” Peter asked. “How’s Quad 2 treating you?”
There was a note of attention in his voice she hadn’t heard before.
“It’s quieter,” Nicole said. “I like it.”
“Most people do, once they finally get out here.”
“Out where?”
“Out of orientation,” he said. “Out of the showcase spaces.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Quad 4’s built to impress,” he went on. “Quad 2’s built to function.”
That distinction settled somewhere she didn’t quite name.
She picked at her food, then looked up. “You really think it’s all planned like that?”
“They don’t do anything halfway,” he said. “Maybe I’ll show you one of these days.”
The wind lifted briefly, rattling the leaves along the path and carrying the smell of food from the open-front food counters.
Peter wiped his hands and neatly folded the napkin. “If something seems off,” he said casually, “it’s usually worth asking someone who’s been around a little longer.”
“About what?”
“About anything.”
“Okay,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to.
He nodded, like he’d filed that away. “You seem like someone who notices things.”
They walked back toward the building together, their pace matching without effort.
At the entrance to Quad 2, he stopped.
“I usually eat out here,” he said. “If you ever want company.”
“I might take you up on that,” Nicole said.
He nodded once and went inside.
Nicole lingered for a moment before following. The steadiness from lunch stayed with her, but something else had threaded through it now. A sense that there were ways to move through this place she hadn’t learned yet. That some doors opened quietly, if you knew when to try them.
5 pm. Nicole was halfway across the green when she heard her name.
“Hey. Nicole.”
She turned.
Adrian stood a few yards away, hands in his pockets, watching her like he’d been there the whole time and only just decided to speak. Up close, he looked even more at ease than he had in the office. Looser. His black curls of hair caught the dying afternoon light.
“Yeah?” she said.
“Have you been shown around yet?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “Not really.”
He smiled. “Come on.”
He didn’t wait for her to agree. Just turned and started walking, confident she’d follow.
Inside, Quad 2 felt simpler than Quad 4, less glass, more carpet. His voice dropped as they walked, instinctively, as though the building required it.
He showed her a small room with low lighting and padded chairs.
“Meditation,” he said. “Or naps. Depends on who you ask. Occasionally, a couch if someone’s wife kicked them out.”
“People sleep over here?” Nicole asked.
“You’d be surprised.”
She held his gaze a second longer than necessary. He held it back.
A hallway led to a room with frosted doors.
“Massage therapists twice a week. Sign-up fills fast.”
A kitchenette stocked with pastel bottles and neatly labeled jars.
“Everything’s free,” he added. “But don’t overdo it. People pretend they don’t care, but they do.”
Nicole nodded, taking it in. She was aware of how close he walked beside her, the way his arm brushed hers once, briefly, as they turned a corner.
They stopped near a door that looked no different from the others.
“And this,” he said, “is technically a wellness consultation room.”
“Technically?” she repeated.
He glanced at her, amused. “You’ll figure it out.”
Something moved low in her stomach. She nodded as if she understood.
They moved on. The tour felt unhurried and unstructured, like he was killing time rather than performing a favor. By the time they looped back toward the entrance, her earlier embarrassment returned, sharp and inconvenient.
“Hey,” she said. “About earlier. With the commercial.”
He looked at her, eyebrows lifting slightly. “What about it?”
“I didn’t mean to—” She stopped, thinking. “I wasn’t trying to be weird.”
He laughed, the sound easy and genuine. “It’s fine. Really.” He shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t love being reminded how old I am.”
“You’re not that old,” she said.
“Careful,” he said. “Flattery already?”
She smiled despite herself.
“Thirty-two,” he said. “In case you were wondering.”
She hadn’t been. She had.
As they stepped outside, she gestured back toward the building. “It’s just… a lot.”
“Yeah,” he said, without missing a beat. “It can feel like that at first.”
He tilted his head. “You get used to it.”
They walked toward the parking lot together. The afternoon sun had shifted, lower now, warmer. He matched her pace without effort.
When they reached her car, he stopped close enough that she had to tilt her chin up slightly to meet his eyes.
“Well,” he said.
The word hung there, unfinished.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
His lashes were thick and cast a slight shadow over his eyes, making the irises look darker than they were and almost bottomless.
“Tomorrow,” she echoed.
He smiled once more, then turned and headed back toward the building.
Nicole watched him go, then got into her car. As she pulled out of the lot, she caught a glimpse of Quad 2 in her rearview mirror, quiet and unassuming.
She drove home with the windows cracked, the day still sitting in her body, rearranged but not unsettled.
Oh the story continues!! Love that “where the magic happens” snub 🤩
Oh girl this is getting gooooooood