Page 10 of Ravaged Wolf
“I guess I’m in repairs.”
“You guess?”
One corner of his lips lift, like he’s embarrassed. “I’m not exactly in the rotation.”
“You’re on suspension?” My stomach sinks. I’ve heard that happens when someone is more trouble than they’re worth. They get sent home, and then they’re reassigned to something like records where they shred documents all day.
“No, it’s not like that.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “During my first rotation, they, uh, kind of figured out that I have a knack for fixing stuff. So they gave me a workbench in a corner of the facilities building, and I just do repairs. Or sometimes I go onsite, if it’s a big machine, like a boiler or something.”
“You have your own office?” Even my dad doesn’t have that.
“I mean, I don’t have walls, and the windows are way up high, but the space is mine. No one touches my shit.”
“Wow.” Interns in the High Rise don’t get cubicles. We get a desk in the department pool, but it’s first come, first serve each day, so you can’t leave your things, and if you sleep in, you get the desk closest to the supervisor, so you’re running errands all day.
“Impressed?” His thick brow lifts, and his eyes twinkle.
“Yes!” The word flies out for some reason—maybe the stairwell acoustics— and it sounds painfully enthusiastic and uncool to my own ears. My face blazes.
He grins. “Wanna see something?”
“Okay.” I’ll agree to anything if he’ll forget that ‘yes!’
He stands, but he doesn’t offer his hand. He jerks his chin, gesturing for me to head up the stairs.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
I start climbing, slowing as we reach each floor, but over and over, he says, “Keep going.”
My breath starts to come faster, but I don’t want to pant, so I focus on inhaling and exhaling normally, which makes me lightheaded.
We pass the ninth, tenth, and eleventh floors. Finally, at the twelfth, he says, “Here.” He opens the door, and I go through.
I’ve never hung out with anyone who lives in the low teens. My mom would never let me visit anyone who wasn’t close to our floor or above. She said showing favor among the lower ranked causes envy and unnecessary conflict, but honestly, no one ever invited me, now that I come to think about it.
Trevor leads me down the hall, past doors hung with wildflower wreaths, wards against moon madness, and ring cameras. Except for the wreaths, it’s identical to my floor. Superstition is frowned upon in the upper ranks. My mom’s wreath hangs over the mirror in her walk-in closet.
When we get to an undecorated door with the number 1248, Trevor digs a key from his pocket and unlocks it. He opens it with a flourish. “After you,” he says.
The apartment is dark, but from the light over the kitchen stove, I can see that the place is empty of furniture. The air smells like fresh paint and wood polish.
“Whose apartment is this?” I whisper, although there’s obviously no one home.
“Ours,” Trevor whispers, grinning. He shuts the door and flips on the overhead lights.
My jaw drops. “No. Way.”
The floorplan is the same as ours, except this apartment is on the other side of the building, so everything is opposite. The open concept kitchen is to the left instead of theright. The hall closet is on my right, and the powder room is on the left.
“How did you get a two bedroom?” Males are assigned housing when they mate, but I had no idea it happened this quickly, or that they’d give two bedrooms to a newly mated pair.
His grin widens, shy and pleased. “I told you. I’m good at fixing shit.”
“A lot of stuff must break.”
He laughs. “You have no idea.”
