Page 7 of A Minute More

It doesn’t let up even after I try and force my mind elsewhere, it just continues to grow.

I find myself at my computer two days later looking him up, trying to find any information about him. I found out his last name simply by asking him at work earlier that day. He’d stared at me, curious as to why I needed to know, but I just smiled at him dopily until he muttered it to me. Simon Wise.

I called him Wise a few times that day to pretend that it was a thing I did with my friends, when in actuality, I was just trying not to forget it and was itching to get home so I could do some snooping. But of course, even that isn’t easy.

He doesn’t have any of the popular social media, so I ended up searching his name on Google. And that’s where I find it—an article with a picture of him holding a trophy, beaming widely. He looks younger, happier, his clothes a little less pressed and perfect, his hair a little more wild. But he still has the same put-together demeanor that makes him…him.

I zoom in with my mouse and see that the award he won was for some kind of computer programming thing. Huh. Why the fuck is he working at a sandwich shop if he wins awards for stuff like that?

I mean, I get why I am. I got a degree in sociology and haven’t quite found what I want to do yet. But someone who’s apparently as smart as Simon should be working for Apple or something.

Not working at the Greatest Wich for pennies.

I lean back in my chair and run a hand through my hair. Fuck, this snooping didn’t satiate me at all. It only made me more curious. Now I want to know about this competition and why he looked so happy then when he looks so damn unhappy now.

All the fucking time.

I’ve never seen him smile.

“Well, fuck if this only makes me more intrigued,” I mutter and slam my laptop shut. I sit, staring into the darkness before pulling it open once more and doing a more thorough search.

I spend another two hours snooping, but come up empty-handed.

Nothing more about him is to be found.

Disappointment claws at my chest as I crawl into bed and close my eyes.

I don’t know why I have this fixation on him, but I can’t quite seem to let it go.

I really need to let it go.

CHAPTER2

WESLEY

We don’t work together for two whole days and the slight obsession that I have with him seems to ebb. Maybe it was just the close proximity while working together, but some distance has put my head back on straight. I’m so over this weird thing I have for him…this need to know him better.

That is…until I see him out on a Saturday night.

“Hey, is that Simon?” Jude asks as we make our way downtown, walking toward a local pub. My head swivels around, and I catch sight of those neatly pressed pants and a button-down shirt disappearing into a building. I’m not totally sure if it’s him, but fuck, it sure does look like him. And damn, but that insatiable need to know more surges through me. Guess I’m not over it after all.

“Maybe,” I say, breaking away from our group of friends and making my way to the door where Simon disappeared. “I’m gonna go see. Just gonna check.”

“Why the fuck you gotta see?” Jude calls out after me, but I ignore him, taking the steps two at a time and entering a small dimly lit hallway. Hmm, looks like a cluster of apartments. The back of maybe-Simon disappears up another flight of stairs, and I rush to catch up to him. I need to find some kind of insight into who this guy is. That’s the only reason I’m following him like a creep.

Totally normal behavior.

My breath is coming out in short pants as I make it to the top of the stairs just in time to see Simon rapping on a door at the far end of the dimly lit hallway. This building isn’t nice by any means, more worn down and old, but here he is.

“Hey,” I say with a wheeze, waving my hand in a pathetic attempt at a wave.

Simon’s head swivels toward me and his brows lower. His lips move to a frown, and he fiddles with a button on his shirt.

“Wesley…” he begins but before he can say anything else, the door swings open and an older man appears. He has an unkempt beard and is wearing a loose shirt. Pajamas maybe? I can’t tell from here.

“Come in,” the low voice says, and Simon doesn’t even look my way again. He just disappears inside, the door shutting softly behind him.

My hand moves through my hair as I stand there in the apartment complex, feeling so fucking dumb for following Simon up two flights of stairs. He didn’t look particularly pleased to see me, more like severely annoyed that I showed up unexpectedly.

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