Archive of Our Own ^beta

if someone had told you a year ago that you’d be locked inside your apartment because of a global pandemic, you would’ve told them, “um, okay, sure.” 

but there you were, sitting in your living room in the middle of the work day, waiting for your boss to figure out how to use zoom. your city launched another stay-at-home order, and you were going stir-crazy. not that LA really felt like “your” city. 

sure, california was unarguably a beautiful place–LA? not by a long shot. especially now that another lockdown started, and people were buying toilet paper and hand sanitizer like the world was ending–which, maybe it was. you couldn’t see the future. and if you could see the future, you sure as hell wouldn’t have jumped headfirst into a new job before a fucking pandemic. 

but hey, you thought as you waited for the meeting to begin, at least i still have a job. for now.

working at a small production company in one of the most competitive industries in the world made your job equally interesting and terrifying. you didn’t work on massive productions like blockbuster movies or music videos; your company mostly contracted itself to local theater productions, or for commercials. if you were lucky, you got something as big as a hallmark movie or soap opera.

but instead of being on-site for another project, you were in your apartment. 

it was still early in the pandemic–late may and hot as hell–with no end in sight. headlines with the words “furlough” and “unemployment” made your stomach tie in knots, but you tried to hide your panic, and hope that you could survive this and still have your job.

“alrighty. hey, guys, sorry about the delay.” your boss, michael, flipped his camera on, you could only see only the top half of his face. “first of all, how are you guys doing? actually–hey, team, it’d be great to see your faces. can all of us turn on our cameras? great, thanks. thank you. i hope everyone is doing better, but it probably doesn’t hurt that your home now. i’m, you know, still in the office, so it must be nice for you all to enjoy the break.”

you fanned yourself with a piece of notebook paper and fought the urge to roll your eyes. what ‘break?’ you felt like you were at the mercy of your work cellphone for the past two months.

you hadn’t been emailed an agenda of the meeting, but most of it was spent going over the same things that you went over during the last meeting with minor changes. they went over rising COVID cases, again, and increased local mandates, again–as if you and everyone you know hadn’t already been obsessing over it since this whole thing started.

michael and your other managers gave their own poor attempt at a pep talk that unsettled you more than eased your worries. the warehouse was officially closed, and to follow social distancing guidelines, only a few equipment reservations could be made at a time. after all, how many people would even need any of this equipment during these “unprecedented times?”

the sound of your boss calling your name jolted you out of your thoughts. “can you stay after? i wanted to chat with you about something real quick.”

the sinking feeling in your chest made you feel like you were about to hyperventilate. is he going to freaking fire me right now? can’t he just do this over email or something? “um, y-yes, absolutely.”

you both waited, awkwardly staring at your screens as your coworkers exited the meeting. when it was just the two of you, you felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack, already mentally stacking a list of reasons to convince him to let you stay. first thing on the list? you need a fucking job to survive.

your boss let out an exasperated sigh. “so, we just got an order for delivery this friday. i know you don’t typically handle deliveries but it’s just some lighting and sound equipment, and soundproof items from the warehouse. i forwarded you an email with the itemized list. and i’m going to be straight with you–this is a high-profile client, so we will be making an exception to the governor’s orders. you have experience handling a lot of the equipment he needs, and i want you to be the one to deliver it to his location. think you can handle that?”

your relief that you still had a job washed away almost immediately at his words. high-profile? exception? deliver?

you frowned. “oh, i, uh…thought we weren’t allowed to drop off equipment?”

michael sighed as if you’d made the stupidest observation in the world. “i’ll email you a note explaining the situation in case you get pulled over. our client lives outside the city; i wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t necessary. you’ll also need to immediately expedite a COVID test–make sure it’s negative, wear a mask, you’ll figure it out. he needs this by friday, so we gotta get the ball rolling here. think you can handle that?”

hm, sounds illegal. but you lived in LA, during a pandemic, and you really, really needed this job. because if there’s one other thing LA’s known for, it’s being expensive. and if there’s one thing you know about your place in this tiny industry, it’s that you’re unfortunately very expendable.

you were curious who this “high-profile” client was that thought he was sooo important, he needed the equipment delivered to his house  rather than just pick it up himself. how was this necessary, unless–you scowled. of course. michael, or one of your other managers, insisted on delivery to make the customer service extra special. why were you even surprised.

you opened the email and skimmed the list quickly, and your eye brows rose at several of the random requests. but when you went to search for a name associated with the order, nothing caught your attention. the only name listed anywhere was a “robert burnham,” not that that rung a bell.

he’s probably a young up-and-coming producer or director who thinks he’ll be the next scorsese, you think with a grimace as you mentally tallied everything you’d need to do to prepare for this load. jesus, this is expensive for a passion project.

“now,” michael said in a serious tone that made you snap your attention back to him, “i’m trusting you with this because i trust you. our client wants to keep this under wraps, so please, don’t go blabbering to everyone about who we’re working with. if anyone comes up to you or wants an interview or asks questions, anything –you call me immediately , okay?”

well, considering you didn’t even know who the guy was, you didn’t think it’d be a problem. “absolutely, of course.”

“great, great. that’s good to hear.” he took a big gulp out from his mug and smacked his lips. “now, friday is in 3 days, so i’m gonna need you to head over to the warehouse early tomorrow morning, take inventory. to maintain social distancing, there won’t be any supervisors there, so be careful. i don’t want to deal with workers comp on top of everything else going on, yeah?”

you nodded, gritting your teeth at his condescending tone.

“great. just shoot me an email if you got any questions. have a good one.” he clicked off without another word.

you sat for a moment in silence, your mind reeling with the amount of work you’d need to do–without receiving any help.

reaching for a pillow on the couch, you pressed your face against the cushion and yelled a loud “fuuuck .”

so much of your week was eaten up with packing and phone calls with michael, you couldn’t even mentally process anything other than work . by the time you’d gotten all the equipment checked, cleaned, and loaded into the cargo van, you barely made it on the road in time for your delivery. you checked and rechecked your list so many times, you were sure you could recite everything in reverse-alphabetical order.

the house you parked in front of was modest and atypical compared to many of the other homes in this part of california–you would’ve driven right past it if you hadn’t been paying attention. 

you doubled checked the address, expecting a studio–not a house on a suburban street.

you eyed the dark gray sky, heavy with rain that threatened to spill at any moment. you pulled your mask over your nose and stepped out, light rain sprinkling on your head and shoulders. 

before you could walk up to the front door, someone rounded the side of the house from the backyard.

the first thing you noticed was how tall he was. like, insanely tall, and he only got taller the closer he got. his hair was grown out past his ears, and he wore dark pants, a wrinkled white t-shirt, and wire-framed glasses pinned over a blue mask. not what you were expecting at all, though you weren’t sure exactly what you to expect.

and despite the mask, you could definitely tell the guy was good looking. though, if you were honest, anyone who was as tall as him was definitely your type. you really wished you weren’t wearing your atrociously ugly uniform, or that you didn’t look so sleep deprived.

you cleared your throat. “hi, are you mr. burnham?”

he stopped a few feet away from the van, and gave you a small wave. “that’s me.” 

his tone was careful, and his striking blue eyes were slightly apprehensive, as if he were waiting for something.

you smiled behind your mask, hoping you appeared welcoming. “i have the equipment loaded in the van. i just need you to review the order, please.”

you extended the clipboard out to him and he took it with a hand that could’ve been the size of a dinner plate. his hair fell over his eyes as he read it over, and his quiet demeanor made you feel even more awkward.

you decided to begin unloading the boxes. it was packed in tight with the lightest boxes on top, but you barely had enough room to move around.

“here you go.” he suddenly appeared at the door, the clipboard extended back to you. even though you stood on the van floor over a foot off the ground, he was insanely tall. you tried not the balk in surprise as you took the clipboard back.

he picked up some of the boxes off the floor.

“oh, here, let me help.” you hopped out and grabbed a plastic storage crate. “i have them all labeled in this white binder. when you’re done with everything, don’t worry about putting them back exactly. the labels are really just to help you keep track.”

“sounds good, thank you.”

instead of heading to the front door like you assumed, he walked back around the side of the house. the rain begun to pick up, and you hustled to keep up, his long strides making it difficult. 

turning the corner, you were surprised to see a small guest house in the backyard, surrounded by tall trees and a garden in front of its porch. definitely not what you were expecting. 

you followed after him until he stepped up to the door and paused.

“did you want me to come in?” you asked uncertainly. 

standing in front of the door, you had to bend your neck almost all the way back to get a good look at him. the mask combined with the rain and humidity made his glasses fog up, making it difficult to see his expression.

he shook his head. “no, no. this is okay–could you–you can just leave the boxes out here…?” 

you were thankful you were wearing a mask because you couldn’t control the expression on your face. “you mean…outside?”

“…yes.” he shifted his weight and awkward silence crept between you two. 

you eyed the dark clouds overhead wearily; it was still sprinkling but it could pour any second. were you even allowed to say no? what would michael say? your eyes shifted to the closed door behind him and you cocked an eyebrow.

a thought came to you, and you could feel your face warm. you cleared your throat.

“um, i… hey, it’s okay, i really don’t care. i promise it’s nothing i haven’t seen before.” his brows furrowed, but you pushed on. “ really . i mean, if you’re filming… that,” you were reluctant to say, “i promise, i don’t care. if you need a minute to hide anything, um, i can wait out here. it’s just that, it’s raining, so these can’t stay outside for much longer, you know? but, uh, don’t worry–i won’t even add on the, er, entertainment fee, if you’d prefer i didn’t tell my boss.”

there was a tense moment of silence before it broke with the sudden sound of his laughter. his shoulders shook as he cackled behind his mask, the items in his box rattling slightly.

“oh my god. wait, wait, wait –you think i’m filming porn!?” at your dazed silence, he laughed harder. “i mean, fuck, how could you not think that, right? what other creep would be this secretive?”

“w-well, this is LA. but–and, um, we can have an…eclectic list of clients, so, um, not that surprising…” your face was so hot, you were sure your mask was going to melt right off.

this awarded you another shout of laughter. he had a really attractive laugh, and you could only imagine what he looked like under the mask. you shifted the heavy crate in your hands, unsure of what to do next.

he stifled his laughter. “ah damn, here. let me.” grabbing the handle of the crate with one hand, his fingers briefly touching yours as he stacked it on top of his box. you noted how sweaty his hands were. also how large.

“can you open the door for me? it’s unlocked.” you uneasily shuffled to open it for him, and stepped quickly away so he could march inside, ducking under the doorframe. he barely went a few steps in before he plopped them down on the hardwood floor and you cringed at the sound of the content rattling. “it’s a little messy in here–sorry 'bout that.”

you were about to tell him it was fine–and you were still slightly nervous to peak inside since he hadn’t technically denied that he was using the equipment for nefarious purposes–but your words stopped at your lips. mountains of boxes and bags of stuff, including a couch and a keyboard, overcrowded the small guest house. you doubted you could even squeeze in the rest of the boxes you brought with you.

the man turned back around and now that you got a better look at him, there was something about his voice or the way he moved that seemed familiar to you somehow. “it’s a controlled chaos.”

you took in the state of the room. “i think it needs more control, less chaos,” you replied without thinking.

he chuckled softly at your lame joke. away from the murky overcast, you noticed how kind his eyes were. why did he look so familiar to you? “i think i heard some thunder–i’ll help you carry the others in before it starts pouring.”

you both walked back and forth out to the van, him carrying two containers at a time, and you one. you were lost in thought (and slightly out of breath) as he explained where to put them, his voice causing you pause. 

you were sure you’d never met him before–you felt certain that you wouldn’t forget a man as tall as him–but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you knew him from somewhere . you tried to pick up any clues around the guest house, but it was nearly scrubbed of any personal items–aside from a collection of pictures pinned on the fridge with little souvenir magnets. 

the name robert burnham didn’t ring any bells, and you were positive you’d never worked with someone named robert burnham. maybe he went by a nickname–

you paused mid-step, nearly tripping on the grass. burnham.

was he bo burnham?

you thankfully managed to keep yourself outwardly composed, but you internally started to panic. your heart beat wildly in your chest as you followed him back into his guest house.

setting the container on the ground, you glanced quickly around the living room a moment, feeling somewhat at a crossroads. did he assume you already knew who he was? he had to, right? you decided to try and carry on like nothing happened.

“um, help me with the, uh, l-lights?” you asked. wow, very smooth.

now that you knew who he was, you felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. you wouldn’t consider yourself an expert by any means, and his stage presence definitely differed from who he was in-person–but his messy hair, his lanky gait, the sound of his voice. 

it was all so obvious that you weren’t sure who you should be more upset at–your boss for not properly warning you, or yourself for being so obtuse. 

once everything was inside as tight as it could fit right as the first fat drops of rain fell, the man– bo –turned to you. “thank you again for your help. sorry about earlier–i tend to get a little weird about my, um, creative spaces.” he exaggerated a grimace. “yikes, that made me sound like a total tool.”

you laughed shyly. yeah, he definitely caught on that you figured out who he was. “no, i-it’s no problem. i get it, i just didn’t want the, um, equipment to get wet, y-you know?”

paranoid that he didn’t want you to linger, you quickly fumbled in your pocket and handed him your company card. “um, i-in case you need anything?” you offered, flustered.

he took it without looking and gave you a nod. “oh, yeah. thanks.”

“um, h-have a good day,” you said, giving him a hurried wave as you hurried out.

“thanks again!” he called out and you heard the door close behind you.

you just barely pulled out of the neighborhood in a daze when your work phone buzzed in your pocket.

you rolled your eyes, anticipating the sound of your boss’s voice when you answered. “hello?”

“hey, me again.” you nearly swerved into a tree. “on second thought, i do have some questions about some of the lights. and the cords. and…um, the labels? something about labels? are you able to come back for a minute, or would i be keeping you from something?”

“yeah, absolutely. i mean–no, it’s no problem. i mean–” you took a deep breath in, waiting for a hole in the ground to swallow you up. “i’ll be there soon.” you input the address back into the GPS.

“cool. see you then.”

after he hung up, you stared at the phone in your hand a moment too long before snapping out of it. you’re meeting bo burnham not just once, but twice . in the same day. sheesh .

you tried not to freak out when you knocked on the guest house door, clutching an umbrella in a vice grip and hoping you didn’t look like a drowned cat.

“hi again,” bo burnham answered in a tone that was what you would definitely call sheepish.

“um, hey,” you said shyly, then stepped inside, “oh. uh, wow.”

the twenty minutes you’d been gone made it look like a tornado tore through the small house. boxes were open with tangled cords spilling out, and pages from the looseleaf instruction manual spilled across the hardwood floor. a pile of them were dangerously close to a vent, along with a candy wrapper and a piece of clothing that looked suspiciously like a pair of underwear. you averted your gaze, and told yourself that you absolutely would never think about that ever again– ever .

“more of your controlled chaos?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

he laughed and tugged a hand through his hair. “yeahhh. i didn’t look at your labels before i started pulling things out. you can shame me, i deserve it.”

“no, no, i-it’s okay.” you took another glance around. “…well, this is a bit of a fire hazard,” you said, stepping around the loose wires on the floor.

he laughed quietly and moved aside to give you some space. despite the physical distance, you could feel yourself become more nervous being alone with him again.

as you absentmindedly leafed through your white binder, you started to ramble nervously.

“just so you know–i don’t, like, have your number now or anything. you called my company phone so i can’t redial, not that i would! and i wouldn’t spread your number out there or anything–you don’t have to worry about that–if you did worry–not that i would ever do something like that–” you slammed your mouth shut, eyes wide. why the hell did i just say that?!

bo burnham, thankfully, schooled his expression, or maybe his mask was just really good at hiding it. “well, i appreciate it. but if you’re trying to weasel my number out of me, there’s better ways to do it.”

you literally wanted to die . just crawl into a hole and bury yourself inside, no shovel necessary, you’d do the damn job yourself. “no–no, i’m–i’m sorry, i-i wasn’t trying to–”

he lifted both hands up. “ah, sorry, sorry. that was a joke–a really bad one. i, uh, guess i’m not used to talking to people anymore,” he said with an exaggerated eye roll and a gesture that said what can you do? it had its intended effect, and you laughed, but apprehension lingered in the pit of your stomach.

he looked like he wanted to say something else, but when the silence stretched on, you cleared your throat.

“where do you want to, um, start?”

he gestured to a random pile of opened boxes with the cords spilling out like it had been gutted. “probably there first.”

you both went to work in semi-silence, the only words spoken mostly coming from you explaining to him what plugs in where. you helped him untangle and re-wind some cords back together, separating them using the labels you made. you tried to keep your distance, but the small, crowded space made social distancing nearly impossible. but you both kept your masks on, despite the humidity.

the height difference took some getting used to. the only time you could comfortably make eye contact with him without straining your neck was when he was kneeling down to the ground to move something or tape something down. once there was enough room on the floor to stand further away, you were able to get a better look at him–his hair, his hands, his ever-present slouch.

you both barely spoke as you crouched down and fiddled with one of the larger pieces of sound equipment. bo stood observing from a few feet away, but you could feel his eyes on you. he was so tall that he had to stoop over to watch you, which might’ve made you laugh if it didn’t look so painful. it was almost like he was overly self-aware of the height difference, or maybe it was out of habit. regardless, it couldn’t be good for his back to lean over like that all the time.

“um, hey, you don’t have to stand so far away from me,” you mumbled, keeping your focus on the task at hand. “i’ve been self-quarantined this entire time. you’re the first person i’ve seen since this whole thing started.” you paused. “um, y-you know, in case you wanted to move closer to see what i’m doing. i promise i’m not sick.”

bo burnham remained silent, and you were worried you’d offended him when he didn’t immediately reply. after another beat, he took a couple steps closer and you relaxed.

“you’re actually the first person i’ve been this close to since quarantine began,” he said quietly.

shocked, you turned to look at him over your shoulder. you’d underestimated how close he was–he was crouched down a few feet beside you. “really?”

“yeah. i don’t have any family around here, and i don’t want to risk it visiting them, so…” he shrugged.

your heart ached for him. “oh. i’m sorry.”

he shrugged again. “there are others who have it worse.”

oddly enough, that small conversation made things much less awkward, and you slowly began to feel less nervous around him. you couldn’t forget who he was, but you reminded yourself that at the end of the day, he was just a normal guy. a very funny, very tall totally normal guy.

you both began to chat a bit, first about the equipment and wires (he agreed to mark yours with electric tape so he could tell the difference), then conversation slowly shifted more casual. the quick LA rain had stopped while you talked a bit about your friends, your family, the weird, never-ending news cycle. bo talked a bit about himself; not much–you understood, since you were a stranger and literally working–but it was nice to hear him talk about interesting anecdotes about the world, or his dog. 

he was also genuinely very funny–a different kind of funny than his standup, but still funny all the same. he was introspective and made most of the jokes about himself. the way he told one story about how he had to rescue his dog from a pissed off squirrel that was digging in the garden made you laugh so hard, it took a minute for you to collect yourself, and you still giggled about it a while afterwards. at one point you thought you caught his gaze lingering on you with a curious look in his eyes, but you internally shook the thought away.

bo opened the last of the cardboard boxes while you assembled some of the lights, and he talked about his garden.

“so, is this a quarantine-inspired hobby, or something you’ve always done?” you asked.

some of his hair fell on his forehead, and his attempts to keep it curled behind his ear were futile. “yes and no. i was inspired to grow my own vegetables years ago–easy stuff, like tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers. but it’s nice to look at something pretty once in a while.” his gaze must have caught yours by accident because his eyes darted away quickly. “um, so i-i figured i could try something different.”

you watched him tug fruitlessly at the packaging tape on a particularly difficult box before he slipped a pocket knife out of his pocket. “what kind of flowers do you grow?”

you tried not to watch too closely as he cut open the cardboard box, the muscles in his forearms flexing.

“eh, i’m not super knowledgable about flowers, and some of them are difficult as fuck to take care of. my favorites i have out there are the gardenias but they– goddamn it ,” he hissed suddenly, and yanked his hand back. you caught a line of blood dripping from the open wound on his palm onto the hardwood floor, narrowly missing the wires.

“oh no,” you gasped automatically, “i’m so sorry.”

“it’s not your fault. i should’ve paid attention to what i was doing,” he said. “it’s just a paper cut. or i guess, a cardboard cut.” he cringed at his hand. “ shiiit . and of all the things i thought to put in here, a first aid kit wasn’t one of them.”

you gestured to the front door. “i have one in the van. i can go grab it.”

he hesitated for a moment before cupping his other hand under the wounded one. “ah, okay, yeah. probably better that i don’t drip all over the place.”

you hustled out to the van, the air still stiflingly humid. flinging open the passenger side door, you grabbed the kit out and jogged back to the guest house. when you opened the door, you saw bo in the kitchen, running water over it. he literally dwarfed everything in the kitchen, and he had to bend over to reach the sink.

“i’m so, so sorry, i didn’t mean to distract you,” you said, dodging the clutter. 

bo burnham was quiet while you stood next to him, opening the kit on the counter and taking the gauze and antibiotic ointment out. you grabbed at a roll of paper towels next to the sink. “did the bleeding stop?”

“not yet.” you unrolled a few sheets and handed it to him. he pressed the stack against his palm. “at least it wasn’t the knife, huh?” you nodded, anxiously watching his hands. “but uh, you didn’t distract me–that was on me. i-i just like talking about my garden,” he finished with a laugh.

that’s cute , you thought as you glanced up at him and saw his shy demeanor, his hair in his face, his blue eyes. you froze–stop thinking he’s cute. you are WORKING!

you turned away. “well, i still feel bad…”

your voice drifted off as your eyes landed on the fridge beside you, noticing the pictures. most were family pictures and coupons for various local restaurants. however, one that caught your eye was a picture of bo burnham in front of a stage, his arms wrapped around an older couple. the picture was slightly blurry and clipped to it with a paperclip was a card. your eyes caught the final words–"we love you, mom.”

your heart began to pound. of course, how could you forget who he was, and how crazy it was to meet him like this?! there were no other pictures of him anywhere else in the guest house, but this –a picture likely taken with his parents after a show–left no room for doubt. 

you quickly averted your eyes back to the kit, fiddling with the antibiotic ointment. “um, i never got to hear about what flowers you’re growing out there.”

“oh, yeah.” he feigned a thinking face. “hm…so i have daisies, poppies, some really beautiful penstemons. i’m also trying to grow some gardenias–they’re from my mom’s garden and they do better on the east coast, so i’m a little nervous. i tried to plant some last year, but they’re so fucking fickle, they died. so i hope that with a little tender loving care, they make it this time.” he glanced down at his hand. “i think the bleeding finally stopped.”

you gave him the ointment and he squeezed a bit of it on his palm. you opened a package of gauze and handed it to him with a roll of tape. he kept the gauze flat in his hand, but he had difficulty keeping it center on the cut to tape down. “ah, sorry–could you–?”

“oh, right. of course.” you carefully taped it onto his palm. with your face this close to his hands, you noticed the slight imperfections on them: the sun spots and freckles, the callouses on the pads of his fingers. you tried as hard as possible to keep the heat from rushing to your cheeks, but your face was definitely on fire. thank god for the mask. this was the closest you’ll probably ever be to bo burnham–and you were practically holding his hand.

when you were finally done, he flexed his fingers and nodded. “good as new. thanks, doc.”

you smiled, putting the items back in your first aid kit. “well, don’t be too happy. knowing my luck, i infected it and you’ll have to amputate it and i’ll be out of a job.”

a burst of loud, genuine laughter left bo, and you were shocked that you accidentally made him laugh like that–twice. something passed in his eyes as he looked down at you, something that made your heart hammer even harder in your chest, but he quickly turned back to the living room, the look gone.

out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the clock on his oven was flashing. it didn’t work, but it made you realize you must have been there a long time. you pulled out your work phone to check the time and nearly balked–you’d been there nearly three hours and hadn’t even realized it.

“it’s going to take a while for me to get this stuff all situated,” he said, stepping around you to walk back into the living room. “you need to head out, right?”

you nodded and glanced out the window. the rain finally stopped, for now. “yeah, it’s a bit of a drive. is there anything else that you need help with while i’m here?”

he shook his head and did a little wave with his bandaged hand. “naaah, i’ll be good.”

a part of you was relieved to leave, but a larger part of you was sad to go. who knew when would be the next time you’d even see him? there was no guarantee you’d even make it another week at your job in this pandemic.

bo opened the door and you stepped outside. “well, you have my number–my work phone number, i-if you ever have any questions.”

he nodded slowly before he said, “to be honest with you, i’m probably not going to call.” he fidgeted with his mask, fixing it tight on his nose. “it’s–this is something i have to force myself to figure out. it sounds weird, but i’ll feel more accomplished if i work on this alone. but, thank you. really. you helped me a lot, and i appreciate it. i really mean that.”

the sincerity of his words combined with the earnest look in his blue eyes made your heart skip a beat. “y-you’re welcome,” you breathed.

he smiled, the corner of his eyes wrinkling. “i’ll catch you later.”

“bye,” you said before you turned around and walked back out to the van for the second time. only this time, you didn’t hear the guest house door close until you turned the corner, out of sight.

true to his word, bo burnham didn’t call or email once–it was total radio silence. and while michael didn’t quite understand it, he left it alone. 

you spent the following weeks in a repetitive haze as the stay-at-home order made you barely see anything other than the walls of your apartment. a few times, you boxed some equipment up to be picked up at the shop, or to sanitize at the warehouse. once, it was after an actual porn company rented some stuff, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the coincidence.

so many of your friends and coworkers were being let go, left and right. but there wasn’t anything you could really do to stop it–none of you were in a union, so you and the others had zero leverage. this made sleeping at nights even more difficult.

a few times, you almost told a friend or family member about meeting bo burnham, but what could you even say? would you be making it out to be more than it was? and the longer you debated and the more time that passed, the harder it became to tell anyone. after a while, you decided to just keep it to yourself. and besides, you doubted he even remembered who you were, so what did it matter?

then, in early august, less than 3 months after you first met bo, your boss asked you to stay after a meeting. shit, is this it? am i about to get fired? 

“we had a conversation with mr. burnham,” was the first thing he said when you two were alone. your stomach felt like it turned into lead. “has he contacted you in the past few days?”

“oh. um, no. did something happen?” which was the exact wrong thing to say to your boss.

michael gave you a look over his glasses as if that was the wrong question. “well, you’re his point of contact, so i would think it would make sense for him to contact you –or at the very least, you reach out to him. but the end of his contract is coming up, and since we hadn’t received any word from him for a while, we reached out. seems he completely forgot that he’s supposed to return the rental equipment soon.”

you swallowed. “oh…i–i’m sorry. he told me that he preferred to be left alone… i was only giving him some space–i figured he knew–”

“well, your job is to assist him. customer services is just as, if not more important, than giving him space . i don’t care what he says.” your heart pounded as you nodded, feeling one inch tall. he sighed deeply as if he were talking to a child. “well, i supposed now it doesn’t matter. he told us yesterday that he’s intending to extend his contract–for a full year. guess his little project is taking longer than he anticipated.”

you sat up straighter in your seat. “oh, okay.”

michael ignored you as he licked his thumb and flipped through a stack of papers. “he needs new bulbs for the lights, and some of the cords were faulty, so we’re going to replace them for him. i emailed you his billing statement and the updated contract, so if you could get him to sign it, that’d be great.” he looked at you over the rim of his glasses. “and it turns out you made quite the impression on mr. burnham. i was going to have one of the bigger guys go out there and help him unload it, but he said he’d rather stick with the same point of contact. i’m very impressed.”

you blinked, momentarily shocked by his words. bo mentioned you directly? “wow, that–that’s great! when does he want me to drop it off?”

“well, we offered to deliver the items to him again, but he insisted on coming here to pick them up.”

huh. “oh, okay.” 

after this much time had passed, who knew what state the guest house was in now? you could only imagine the fire hazards. while a small part of you was disappointed you wouldn’t get a chance to get another peak into his creative world, it was probably for the best. you didn’t want to intrude.

“mr. burnham will arrive late monday morning to pick up the supplies. the guys will have the boxes packed and ready to go for you.”

and just like that, you had your weekend planned out for you. it wasn’t nearly as stressful as last time, but now that you knew who it was you were working for, it was harder to keep yourself from flipping between excitement and dread. 

the office building was built on the edge of LA, facing a slow city street, with a small brick warehouse attached to the back. you still weren’t used to being alone; usually during the busiest times, there were people constantly moving or fixing things. now, you were lucky if you happened to spot the janitor or security while you were there. 

the floor of the entire warehouse was paved with concrete that continued on to the parking lot behind the building. you left the rolling steel door open to let in the late summer air–it was “too expensive” to leave the AC running with just a few people there at a time, so you were going to wear shorts, damn it.

you arrived an hour early and busied yourself with making sure everything was correct while your heart pattered in anticipation. 

jesus, relax–it’s not like he’s going to do anything besides pick up the supplies and go. 

after all, it had been nearly 3 months. surely he wouldn’t think anything of this, right?

a few minutes before the hour, you noticed a plain grey sedan park outside the rolling door and pop open the trunk. you grabbed your clipboard as bo burnham climbed out of his car–you wondered how far back he had to push the drivers seat so he could drive comfortably–and you missed a step. he wore plain white t-shirt with a pair of basketball shorts that stopped just above his knees, and instead of his eyeglasses, he had a pair of sunglasses on.

you hadn’t planned what you would do when you physically saw him again, so before you could think it over, you shyly waved at him from the entrance. oh my god, seriously, how awkward can i be? for some reason, you were even more nervous this time around than the first time.

he waved back, but it was difficult to see the expression on his face from beneath his mask. once he stopped at the entrance, he pushed his sunglasses up on his head, pinning his hair from his face.

instead of your hideous uniform, you wore a pair of shorts and a t-shirt–it was way too warm to move around in anything more. but now that you were standing in front of him, you felt oddly exposed with so much of your skin on display.

“hi, again,” he greeted, and now that you could see his eyes, you could tell he was grinning at you.

“h-hey, what’s up?” you cleared your throat. “good to see that you still have both your hands.”

a look of confusion passed over him a moment before he laughed. god, if there was a way you could bottle the sound of his genuine laughter, you would absolutely do it.

“right, right,” he said, lifting up the hand that he’d cut months ago. he opened his hand so his palm faced you. “good as new, doc.”

the size of his hand extended out to you made you consider what it would feel like on your skin. fuck off, horny intrusive thoughts. not now.

“glad t-to hear it,” you said weakly. “um, the boxes are just over here. youcanfollowme.”

he nodded. “great, thanks.”

he shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked casually beside you, matching your much shorter strides. in the 3 months since you last saw him, you’d forgotten how tall he was, and his hair had grown out even more. some strands still fell in his face, but the long hair suited him. you wondered how much longer he was going to grow it. 

“this is a lot smaller than i thought it’d be,” bo said, looking around.

“it’s worse when there’s people here. it feels like you’re climbing on top of each other,” you said with a soft laugh.

“i can see that,” he said with a smile in his voice. “this is like, the smallest production warehouse i’ve ever seen. i think i literally rented out half of your inventory–sorry 'bout that.”

you laughed again and twisted your hands nervously in front of you. “yeah, i mean–basically.” you look over your shoulder at him, but he was already looking at you. you averted your gaze. “i-it’s no biggie, though. you’re one of the only people actually renting any of our stuff, anyways. so, thanks actually, for–for keeping the lights on.”

“i’m honored, then, to be working with you,” he said and that made your cheeks catch on fire. you know he didn’t mean “you” as in you , but you could imagine. “so how many people work here? it must be a small crew, right?”

you thought about it. “yeah, maybe like…fifty at our peak? but the pandemic hit us hard, so now maybe thirty or so are left.” you glanced at him long enough to see a furrow crease between his brows. “there’s a picture of all of us over on the wall there.”

you gestured to the wall next to the rooms of offices. the blinds were closed with the lights off, but next to the door were framed pictures of the team. your heart ached when you recalled that nearly a third of the people in the pictures didn’t work there anymore. some of them you are close with. a pang of nostalgia made you wish you could go back and appreciate that time more.

bo made a detour over to the wall and paused in front of the pictures, his hands at his hips as he searched quietly. you fidgeted as you followed after him, wondering if he would be able to point you out among the crowd without knowing what you looked like without your mask.

as if he could read your mind, he pointed right at you. “this is you, right?”

you nodded nervously before you remembered that he wasn’t looking at you. “um, y-yeah, that’s me.”

“you have a really pretty smile.”

you froze at his words, eyes wide. he didn’t mean it like that, was the first thought you had, right before holy shit, he thinks i’m pretty.

he didn’t turn to face you, but continued to stare pointedly at the picture. you started to fill the air with nervous chatter. “um, yeah, that, uh, that was right after i was hired. i think like a month in? it was, like, a hundred degrees and everyone was so sweaty and miserable. they threatened us with no ice cream if we didn’t smile. this picture,” you pointed to the one directly below it, “is of me and some of the others during the halloween party last year. not that you can tell it’s me. i’m the one dressed up as a clown because i thought it would be funny to scare people. i almost gave one of my supervisors a heart attack when she saw me in the bathroom.”

bo laughed when you pointed yourself out; there you were, in all your clownery. he turned to you, still smiling. “hah, that’s incredible.” 

you could feel the tips of your ears singe under his gaze. “th-thanks.” you took a step away to create some space. “the boxes are just over here.”

when you two finally arrived at the stack of pallets, you handed him the clipboard. “um, here’s the updated contract. the itemized receipt is underneath it–i think, uh, i mean, did they send you an email copy?”

“yeah, i got it last night.” he nodded, reviewing it quickly before signing. 

“you have a really pretty smile” kept running through your head. he didn’t mean it the way you thought he did, right?–he couldn’t have. he was just being nice, you reasoned. he hasn’t seen you without your mask, so when he saw the picture, he was probably just trying to think of something nice to say. he’s just being nice, he’s just being nice.

that was your mantra as you tried not to notice his biceps flexing under his shirt as he lifted the boxes.

even though he’d been friendly before, you didn’t want to expect anything. it’s been 3 months, you reminded yourself. it wasn’t like you two were close.

however, this time, it seemed that bo was the one who initiated most of the conversation. he asked about how your summer was going (all things considered), and how work had been. he asked you about your friends, your hobbies, things you’d completely forgotten you talked about with him last time. he remembers all of this?

you consistently caught him looking at you while you talked, barely looking away. it was extremely difficult to maintain eye contact with his bright blue eyes, especially when he was looking at you so intensely. did he look at you like that before, or was it all in your head? 

while you two worked, you couldn’t help get the feeling that he was stretching his time there longer–no, that wouldn’t make sense. 

but each time you dropped off a box in his trunk, he would pause and linger there to talk to you. what was supposed to be a ten-minute job amounted to take over half an hour.

“you’re kidding! ” bo said with a shout of laughter when you told him about the porn company that rented equipment earlier that summer. “so your assumption wasn’t that far fetched, huh?”

“nope,” you said with a smile.

his face shifted mock-serious. “wait…am i using any of that equipment?”

your eyes widened. “oh, god no.”

he shook his head at the ceiling. “bummer. it would’ve been an absolute honor.”

“i don’t think they usually use strobe lights.”

“hey, you never know nowadays. i hear it really makes it all, y'know, come together.”

a loud laugh tore out of you, surprising you. half of what he said shouldn’t be so funny, but it was how he said it.

still laughing to yourself, you picked up one of the last boxes, but you misjudged how heavy it was. you balanced it poorly in your arms before it slipped. you took a step back to catch it when the back of your ankle slammed into something metal behind you. a sharp pain made you hiss as you nearly dropped the box.

“shit! ” you hissed. you fell back on your ass onto the pile of wooden pallets with an “oof,” the box crushing you.

“shit,” bo echoed, “are you okay?” he stooped down to lift the box easily from your hands, as if it were weightless.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you said before you caught sight of the cut on your achilles tendon. “are the lights okay?” you asked as you inspected it, wincing at the sight. 

“fuck the lights, is your ankle okay?” he set the box down and kneeled in front of you. even kneeling, he was nearly a full head taller than you. 

your face burned. he’s way too close. “it’s okay, it just needs a band-aid. it’s my fault anyways, for not wearing pants.” 

you became hyper aware of that fact, and of how much skin was exposed to him. his eyes slid down your legs before snapping away. “well, it’s too nice out for pants, anyways. do you have that first aid kit handy?”

“it’s on that shelf, but, um, i-i can get it. it’s not a big deal.”

“it’s not a big deal for me, either. i’ve always wanted to play doctor.” his eyes widened as soon as he said it. “i–uh, sorry, i didn’t mean it to sound like that.” 

you couldn’t hold back a laugh at the expression on his face–or, what you could see of his face. “i-it’s okay.”

“i’m going to go get it before i say something else stupid.” he stood up. “just over here?”

you nodded. as he walked out of sight, you pressed a hand to your forehead. this is not fucking happening. what were the damned chances of you busting your ankle while working? in front of bo burnham? jesus christ. you took a couple seconds to try to not freak out and breath normally, and prayed that no one was watching the security cameras. 

you straightened in your seat at the sound of him approaching. 

“thanks,” you said weakly and extended your hand out for it. “i can take care of it.”

“yeah, yeah, of course.” he stayed silent while you opened it and dug around. “should you, y'know, ice it? elevate it?”

you shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “yeah, probably. i have the rest of the day off, so i can do it at home. it’s going to leave a nasty bruise, though. i just hope it doesn’t scar.” you cleaned it up the best you could, and put a large bandage on it. “i can’t believe i got distracted by a sex joke.”

“well, now you know what it felt like when i cut my hand.”

“no, you were talking about flowers .” you shot him a curious glance. “i thought you said i didn’t distract you?”

he shrugged nonchalantly. “i lied.”

was he flirting with you? and were you flirting back? his eyes lingered over you with a soft expression that made you nervous all over again.

“hey, um, i–i’m sorry for saying that. before.” he rubbed the back of his neck. he stood a few feet away, as if he were actively creating distance between you two. “that was…really inappropriate. i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

“i don’t feel uncomfortable around you,” you replied softly, realizing it was the truth. you were embarrassed, and maybe a little shy, but not uncomfortable. 

you noticed his gaze lingered on you even as he stayed a respectable distance away. his hands kept nervously pinching his mask around his nose and fighting to keep his hair pinned under his sunglasses. he’s nervous , you realized with a jolt. which should be impossible–why would bo burnham be nervous around you?

you bit your lip and looked down at your shoes. your heart began to pound in your chest. should i…? you weren’t sure where this bravery was coming from, but you decided to go for it. 

“but, um, if you wanted my number…all you had to do was ask,” you said quietly.

holy fucking shit, i just said that. you tensed, ready to laugh it off if he mistook it for a joke. wasn’t it a joke? you were only kidding, right?

when he didn’t react, you nervously shot a quick glance up at him and saw him typing quietly on his phone.

oh god. you were completely mortified . 

he was ignoring you. or worse, he was going to call michael and file a complaint about how inappropriate you were. bo was just being nice but you took it too far, and now you were going to get fired.

you tried to think of something to say– “haha, just kidding! guess i’m a comedian, too! you go ahead and get the last box, i’ll just stay here and crawl in a hole and die! nice to see you, bye!” –when you saw him extend something out to you in of the corner of your eye.

it was his phone. 

“if you’re offering,” he said, his eyes steady on yours, “can i have your number?”

you gaped at him. what? you took it gently in your hand, blinking rapidly. “um, r-really?”

bo ran a hand through his hair, practically tugging it at the scalp with nervous energy. “i guess i should’ve just come right out and asked you. i just–i don’t want another opportunity to pass by.” he looked almost shy. “when you first came over, that was, like, the most i’d laughed in…a long time. i know i’m going to regret it if i don’t at least ask. and i, uh, i know this is pretty unconventional, but i’d really like to get to know you more. and if this is too weird, uh, you can just forget i said anything…” he finished with a self-deprecating laugh.

you sat in stunned silence when you realized you hadn’t so much as breathed during his entire confession. was this a confession? oh my god. it felt like everything was in slow motion.

“i don’t think there’s a way to not make this weird,” you said slowly, “…but, i like weird.”

a smile broke out on his face, and not for the first time, you wished you could see the smile without the mask. “good thing i’m the weirdest.”

you’d nearly forgotten his phone in your hand. you filled out your name and number quickly, your heart beating so loud, you could hear it in your ears. you handed it back to him.

did bo really mean all of that? you just put your number in his phone, you idiot, so it must be a little true. 

you fidgeted. “so…how are your flowers doing?” smooth.

but bo didn’t seem to mind, and the corner of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you.

“let me show you.” he sat down on the pallet beside you.

bo leaned in so close to you that you could smell the detergent on his clothes and feel the warmth of his thigh pressed against yours. he chatted about his poppies and gardenias, and it made you giggle how many pictures he had of his flowers. sitting so close to him, he had to slouch so you could see the screen, and you tried not to blush at how close his face was to yours. it was true; the gardenias were beautiful, but you had difficulty concentrating.

you faced him. “you sound like a proud dad.”

“thanks. i’m trying to look the part, too,” he said, and wiggled his eyebrows. 

he reached down, with very little effort considering his forearm was practically the length of your entire leg, to softly tap the side of your ankle with his fingers. your whole body locked at feel of it, a carnivorous want aching from deep inside that wanted him to touch you again. “how’s your ankle doing, by the way?”

you rolled your foot side to side, and winced when it throbbed. you shrugged. “i’ll survive.”

“that’s the spirit.” he got up and extended his hand out to you. you swallowed before putting your hands in his. they were so large, they engulfed yours almost completely, and you had to hold back a shiver when his finger gently grazed the inside of your wrist. he has really nice hands. when you looked up, you caught him staring, too. he released your hand gently. 

“this is the last of it, right?” he easily picked up the box that was the cause of your downfall.

“um, yeah. thank you.”

you followed him silently back to his car. if you couldn’t feel the pain throbbing from your achilles tendon, you would have thought you were dreaming. well, i could be hallucinating. maybe you hit your head and were dying in a pool of your own blood while bo called an ambulance. this would be one hell of a hallucination, then. 

bo set the box inside and closed the trunk. you stopped at the rolling steel door. he turned around and leaned back against his car, squinting at you in the sun. his sunglasses rested, forgotten, on top his head and a few stray hairs curled on his forehead. 

“i, uh, i don’t have a lot of time lately to drive into the city,” he said. “and this pandemic–the news and fucking twitter–um, it makes me want to throw my phone through a window. but…there is this thing called…zoom.”

a burst of laughter left your mouth at his exaggerated expression. “yeah, i’ve heard of it.”

“ sooo ,” he said, drumming his fingers against the car, “if you want, i–i can cook a nice dinner–for myself, of course–and you can cook dinner for, uh, your self–and maybe i can call you up? sometime? and we can eat dinner together if you’re, uh, free?”

you titled your head with a shy smile. “…are you asking me out on a date?” 

“yeah, i think it’s called a zoom date. but what do i know. i’m too old for this shit.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “i have some time this weekend, if you’re free, of course. there’s, like, no pressure or anything if you’re busy.”

your heart fluttered in your chest. “i’m free this weekend. is saturday good?”

“good– great. it’s–that’s great–saturday’s like so great.” you laughed at his flustered stutter. he laughed quietly with you, averting his gaze. “well, i, uh, better get going before i embarrass myself more. i’ll see you, yeah?”

you smiled. “see you.”

he fiddled with his sunglasses and slipped them over his eyes. “um, be sure to ice and elevate that ankle. i don’t you to have to amputate your foot.” 

you laughed as he got into his car, smiling at him as he waved and drove away.

your first zoom date with bo was a little awkward. 

you’d both spent the week leading up to it texting short jokes or pictures of what you were doing–sometimes all he would send was a pile of wires on the floor (“ sorry don’t kill me”) or a blurry picture of a flower–but it was never a full conversation. 

you didn’t want to push it, of course–you still weren’t sure exactly what he was working on, and he never went into specifics so you never asked–but it made it difficult for you to judge when would be a good time to text him. so, you kept your distance and anxiously waited until that saturday night.

you had a mini panic attack leading up to the video call. sitting on your bed, you balanced a plate of spaghetti on your knee while you anxiously waited. when he clicked on with his own plate of food and a smile, a flood of emotions rushed through you at the sight of him.

“woah, did we both make spaghetti?” he asked, inching closer to the screen. “great minds think alike! i hope you don’t mind the candle–kind of wanted to set the mood, you know?” he laughed nervously, and you were kind of dumbstruck. 

this was the first time you’d seen him without his mask, and he had a beard . that, combined with his hair, made you feel like you were going to faint. he looked so different than the distant memories you had of him doing standup. you were overly aware of your exposed, mask-less face and felt a new wave of nervousness.

“very, um, lady and the tramp,” you joked.

“so you’re calling me a tramp?” bo raised an eyebrow with a small smile, and you were caught between laughing, and melting into a puddle on your bed. 

your first meal together may have been awkward, but it was sweet. you were pretty sure he wasn’t in the guest house, but maybe on a dining room table in his actual house. you couldn’t get over his hair, or his beard–it really suited him, but you could tell he wasn’t used to it. at some point, he pulled his hair into a tight, small bun at the top of his head that didn’t do much but make him look incredibly cute. 

“reminds me of when i had this horrible hair after high school–very reminiscent of justin bieber,” he explained with a grimace. “but this is the longest it’s ever been.”

you weren’t the only one who was shy. his eyes lingered on your face and he fidgeted with his shirt sleeves or his hair. now that his mask was off, you noticed how often his hands drifted to his nose or mouth while he talked.

“this is the first time i’ve seen you without a mask. it’s like meeting a new person.”

you laughed nervously. “yeah, it feels weird. it’s like i’m naked without it.”

oh my god, i did not just say that.

the corner of his mouth ticked up. “i know what you mean.” he gestured at his face. “sorry, i–uh, normally shave before a first date.”

you shook your head. “no–actually, i like it. i think it suits you.”

“ah, so you have a thing for cavemen. i’ll keep that in mind.” you laughed at the cartoonish look on his face. his gaze softened when you looked back over at him. “i was right. you do have a beautiful smile.”

“oooh, nice,” you teased, your teeth biting into your lip.

“thanks, i’ve been sitting on that one for a while,” he said with a warm smile.

later that night, bo texted you. 

[ hey, i had a great time with you tonight. if things were normal, i would have taken you out to an actual restaurant (or crushed you in a game of table hockey and rubbed it in your face like any other guy). i know the whole zoom thing is weird, but i really liked talking with you. i’m a little swamped with work right now, but i’d really like to “go” on another date with you. soon? ]

you nearly dropped your phone. you texted back quickly, your thumbs moving so fast that you had to double check that you hadn’t made a typo.

[ i would love to :) let me know when your schedule is freed up and we can make plans for another night together! ]

your phone buzzed a minute later with a simple [ :) ] .

the following few zoom calls became progressively less and less awkward. weekends were better for the both of you, especially now that your team was slowly integrating back to the office and warehouse, but your schedules would occasionally align on a weekday. and bo would always bring up the next time you could meet, sometimes before you’d even said goodbye. 

between your “dates,” you’d text each other funny jokes or anecdotes about your days. you saved the bigger conversations about work or family for your zoom calls, and even though you couldn’t meet in person, you felt closer to him than you’d felt to just about anyone you’d ever met. which was weird, like really weird, considering he was what he called himself “a d-list celebrity.”

bo had multiple endless meetings with his managers and netflix producers–the project was taking longer and longer, and you could tell he was getting frustrated with himself. he made light of it, often making fun of how “stupid” it was to get worked up over something that “no one would care about”–but you could tell it really bothered him. 

you didn’t yet know the exact details of his project, but respected him enough not to push it. and while he didn’t literally spend all of his time inside the guest house, he did spend quite a bit of time in there. you worried that he was beating himself up too much.

during your zoom calls or facetimes, it was difficult to keep your eyes from lingering where his shirts exposed his neck, or the way his fingers would rub at his lips while he was thinking. sometimes you suspected that he knew what he was doing, and it left you in a flustered mess when you caught him. he wasn’t immune to you, either, and you would often catch his eyes lingering on you. you wondered how it was possible for him to be so intense and shy at the same time, and being with him made your stomach summersault.

bo slowly opened up to you about his work, going into detail about his more beloved projects–like working on his first film or the future projects he was excited about. you were relieved that he could trust you with this part of him, and that once he started, he felt open to share almost everything with you.

one night in late august, after you’ve showered and eaten after a long day, you facetimed bo in bed. you’d done it only a couple times before, but this time, he was in his bed, too. thankfully, he wasn’t sleeping in the guest house again–that couch did not look comfortable. 

“so…you’re not going to ask?”

caught off guard, you look curiously at him. he was propped up on his pillows, one arm under his head and a sleepy smile on his lips. 

“um, about your garden?” you asked innocently.

he laughed, rolling his eyes. “no, about what i’m doing. your aloof politeness is cute, but aren’t you curious?”

you tried not to dwell on the word cute as you shrugged. “well, i won’t lie and say i’m not intrigued.” 

he smiled at you before touching his mouth for a moment, thinking. “well, um–ha. i’m writing another special, but it’s, uh, it’s different–it’s not going to be very funny, i guess. i dunno.” he shrugged. “and it won’t be performed like the others–i don’t think i ever could perform it live. i spent the last few weeks filming parts of it, but obviously it’s taking longer than i thought–” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head “–and i keep getting more and more ideas. i think it’s going to be my longest one.”

“is that what the equipment’s for?” you were familiar with his passion for lights –his favorite things to work on with any project was that, and the cinematography. 

he nodded, mussing his hair slightly into the pillow. “i’m familiar with this kind of equipment, but in the past, i didn’t do a lot of hands-on stuff. so, this has been a frustrating learning experience, to say the least.” he shook his head. “i also didn’t want anyone tipped off that i’m working on something—which might’ve happened if i went with a bigger company.”

ooohhh. mystery solved. "that makes sense,” you nodded.

you looked at him closely, and how washed out the bright light from his screen made him. but you weren’t sure it was the light entirely–he had deep bags under his eyes and a weary, tired expression. you wondered if he was really going to go to bed after this call, or if he was going to go back to the guest house, consumed with thoughts of his special. 

you hesitated for a moment before just going for it. “i know it’s a bit of a drive to get down here, but if you want–i mean, if you’re comfortable, you could take the night off and just…hang out with me? if you want to, of course, i don’t ever want to come between you and your work, but um, i’m, uh, here i-if you ever need anything?” you laughed anxiously, wanting to hide your face. 

“yeah–actually, yeah. that would be really nice.” his warm smile made you nearly melt into your bed. “i’ve been feeling a little stir-crazy here, to be honest.”

you couldn’t hide your hopeful smile. “you could come over this friday?”

he shifted in his seat, his eyes darting around. “er, actually...” he laughed nervously, “ugh–you’re going to kill me because i was not planning on telling you.” before you could say anything, he interrupted you with “it’s my…birthday on friday.” 

your breath caught in your throat. “oh, really?” you chewed on the corner of your lip. “well, i, uh, you know, it’s okay. we can like, plan it for the following weekend or something–”

“no, no, i–” he shook his head, sitting up now. “i didn’t want to, y'know, make you feel obligated to celebrate, since this is all so new. and it’s a lame birthday, anyways. wouldn’t recommend it. but i…really want to see you on friday.” he rested his chin on one palm and squinted at you, looking almost bashful. 

you couldn’t help the little leap your heart made. “okay, friday it is. just a totally normal, non-birthday date.”

and so, you offered to cook dinner at your apartment. 

bright and early that monday morning, michael called you back into his office. 

“hey can you come back here when you get a second? we need to talk for a minute.” 

your stomach dropped instantly. you were one of the only people on the main floor, but the few people around you cast a sad look over their shoulders. the bags under their eyes matched yours–fewer staff meant longer hours and shorter deadlines. 

there are whispers of unionizing, but most of the people who spearheaded that were laid off and now, only resentment remained. was he really going to do this now, when they needed people more than ever?

you and your crew had already sacrificed so much the past year, and even agreed to go back to the warehouse despite no end, or vaccine, in sight. the crew had been split into two camps: you and the other newbies who kept their heads down and hoped they’d be able to just survive, while many of your senior coworkers fought for just the smallest raise. the braver new hires that pointed out the hypocrisy of doing as much work as them were not-so-kindly laid off.

all of that combined made what was once a fun work environment toxic and unbearable. and now, it turned out that constantly looking over your shoulder was warranted, because you were pretty sure you were going to get fired.

“go ahead and have a seat while i pull up your file,” michael said, sounding more professional than he had since you interviewed there. 

you fidgeted awkwardly as he clicked around his computer for a few minutes, wishing he would just get whatever this was over with. a stack of documents paper-clipped on a manilla folder made your heart seize–the title page reading “notice of temporary layoff due to coronavirus.” 

he turned to you. “so, i’ve reviewed your previous performance reports and past projects, and i just want to make it clear that you continued to be a star employee through the duration of your employment here. unfortunately, during these difficult times, we are unable to sustain the high volume of employment that this company needs due to COVID. speaking for the entire management team, this is a regrettable….”

oh shit, this really is it. it felt like you were almost out of your body as you half-listened to him. while he flipped through the documents, you wanted to rip the papers from his hands and tear them with your hands. 

you’re a liar, you wanted to say as you stared at him in blank shock. you were perfectly fine stringing me along this long. all of my hard work, all of my creativity was wasted on this company. this is unethical. this is wrong. fuck you. 

“…and if it was up to me, we’d stop wearing these goddamned masks, too,” he continued, sounding bored now that the hard part was over. “anyways, just sign here and here. i’ll make copies for you, too, so you can apply for unemployment.”

your rage brimmed beneath the surface despite your cold expression as you signed. you collected the packets with a “thanks” and exited the office with michael still in his office chair, typing on his computer before you’d even shut the door. and by the time you made it to your car, you sat in silence, staring at the door of the building, completely deflated before finally driving away for the last time.

you spent that week between anxiously filing for unemployment on a site that kept crashing and stress-cleaning the apartment. turns out when you didn’t have a job, your brain liked to fill it up with silly little tasks to keep your mind off the fact that you didn’t have a freaking job . 

you debated calling off your date if it wasn’t for the fact that it was bo’s birthday, and that you really wanted to see him. and besides, nothing was going to change overnight, so you might as well spend time with him.

a part of you was relieved that bo was no longer technically your “client,” but it didn’t mean that not having a job didn’t suck ass. if bo was able to still flirt with you despite how you two met, you doubted he gave a damn. but you decided to keep it from him–not only was he extremely busy, but you just didn’t want to burden him. 

you decided to go for a simple casserole for friday, nothing too fancy. you weren’t a chef by any means, but you wanted to do something for your first “real” in-person date.

while you waited, you paced up and down the hallways of your apartment, the creaks from your own footsteps making your eyes snap to the door, and anxiously inspected your appearance in the bathroom mirror. 

it wasn’t like you were going out anywhere, and bo has seen you looking less-than stellar over zoom before. but you decided to opt for a cute but comfortable sundress that bo complimented before. 

by this point, you’ve reached a sort of emotional intimacy with bo–you both opened up about yourselves, what you were like growing up, the dreams and aspirations you had. but it was the physical intimacy that made you nervous. 

sure, logically if someone wanted to date you, that meant they were at least a little physically attracted to you. but the words “sex” and “bo” in the same sentence made you feel almost lightheaded. and there was no real way to test the waters over zoom–unless you counted when your dress strap kept slipping off your shoulder, or that time you definitely weren’t wearing a bra under your very thin shirt (you were pretty sure that was the first time you saw him blush, but the grainy pixels made it difficult to tell). 

a knock on the door made your insides jolt. your eyes did a final, anxious sweep of the apartment before you walked to the front door and found bo on the other side.

“hi,” you breathed, and took a step away to let him in. 

“howdy.” he instinctively ducked his head as he stepped inside. in one hand was a bundle of flowers tied together with twine.

you had no idea that without your mask acting as a barrier you’d feel this exposed. he’d seen you without it, but that was through a computer screen. 

his eyes lingered on your face, your exposed shoulders and legs, and you couldn’t help but do the same. his black pants were paired with a nice short-sleeve buttoned shirt that made your inside seize. mind out of the gutter!

bo extended the flowers out to you with a sheepish grin and you noticed a dimple on his left cheek. “i hope this is more romantic than cheesy.”

“romantic cheese is my favorite.” you took them, and smelled them, your heart in your throat. “they’re beautiful.”

bo smiled, his eyes drifting back down your form. “you’re beautiful.”

you knew the sundress was a good idea. “thank you, you too–i mean, you’re very…handsome?” 

his grin widened, the sight of his sharp canines making your brain short circuit. “don’t make me blush.”

you two circled around each other as you gave him a tour of the living room and dining area. he maintained a respectful distance away from you, but his gaze was anything but respectful. his body angled to you as you spoke, his eyes watching you move. 

every cell in your body wanted you to close the space. before, it was so much easier to convince yourself that it was one-sided or all in your head. but now that bo had made it extremely obvious how into you he was, it made keeping your distance so much worse. 

not that it stopped you from shyly looking away from him or keeping your distance. aren’t these the exact opposite signals you want to give a guy who’s clearly into you, you screamed internally at yourself.

bo reached out to the flowers he brought, not in a vase you found in the far corner of your cabinet. “it’s okay. i’m nervous, too.”

you bit your lip with a smile. he was the one to look away first.

when the casserole was finally done, you both sat at the small kitchen table, and bo took the seat right next to you. reminiscent of your first date, you lit a candle and joked that you hoped it made it more romantic.

“the fact that you did this for me makes it romantic,” he said and you tried to keep your cool as you gulped down your water.

very quickly, your nervousness evaporated as you two began to talk. it was as if you were on one of your zoom calls again, you were surprised how easy it was. but you should’ve guessed; bo was so easy to talk to–you weren’t sure if he really was as nervous as you were, or if he was just really good at hiding it. 

“at the risk of sounding super pretentious, i’m really inspired by tehching hsieh. he’s, like, this genius, kind of insane performance artist that i admire a lot. he was almost too committed to his art.” he laughed. “if he still created art, i wondered what he would do during all of this. i’m not truly alone, like, i’m not inside for a whole year, because i think i’d literally go crazy. but i want to believe that the actual art will have more value than if it was just, y'know, a gimmick.” he paused and looked at you, “sorry, i…wow, i-i really need to stop talking so much.”

you shook your head. “no, no, i don’t mind. i like hearing about your creative process! i was really confused about who would even order those kind of lights. i totally thought you were, like, some douchey student director or something.”

bo eyebrows rose. “wait, they didn’t tell you?”

“well, no, my boss liked to keep that kind of stuff from me, but you know, i figured it out. eventually.”

“honestly, i’m not even offended–well, maybe a little,” he scratched his bearded cheek and curled his hair behind his ear, the strands rebelling. “yeah, that was all your supervisor. he was, like, super insistent about dropping that stuff off. he even gave me a discount if i agreed to it. i’m not sure what he was hoping to accomplish by that, it’s not like i’ll ever use these lights again.”

you absently pushed your food around your plate. “hm. yeah, that sounds like michael, honestly. i think he wanted to get on your good side so he can get exposure or something. he’s kind of an asshole about stuff like that.” you laughed hollowly.

and that’s what michael, and all the others, deserve. you were glad bo was unfazed by his fake niceness, that–

“well, i don’t regret it at all. it ended up being one of the best things to happen.” 

your bitter line of thinking stopped dead in its tracks as bo lightly grazed the back of your hand with his finger. 

“sorry, i don’t want to bore you with work.” he removed his hand and took another bite, his plate now empty. “this was really good. thank you so much for doing all of this.”

you forced a smile. “it’s your birthday! i don’t mind at all.”

“well, it means a lot to me.” he looked at you shyly, his blonde eyelashes casting little shadows. 

you chewed on the corner of your mouth a moment, wondering if you should tell him. you didn’t want to be a bummer. but when he looked at you like that, you decided, to hell with it. 

“i–um, it’s just that i–” you took a deep breath in. “just so you know, i don’t…work there anymore.”

there was a poignant pause. “what?”

you shifted your weight in your seat, staring at your plate. “on monday i was…let go. i suspected that this would happen for a while now, so i’m fine–i mean like, i was emotionally prepared for it. they’ve only held on to people with more seniority anyways. i was, like, the last man standing, so i thought i was in the clear. but i guess i was hoping for too much, this is a competitive city…” your voice drifted off. 

bo sat in frozen silence, until– “oh, shit. was it because of me? did they–”

“no, no,” you shook your head. “they didn’t know about–um… you didn’t do anything. to be honest, your positive review probably helped me stay a little longer, i think. i didn’t tell anyone, and they never gave me any indication that they knew.” you picked at your napkin. “and, like, i get it, it’s a business. COVID hit everyone pretty hard.”

“still doesn’t make it right.” his brows furrowed, a deep frown on his face. your heart dropped.

“really, i’ll be okay–i’m so sorry i brought it up–”

“what can i do for you?”

that simple question made your heart seize in your chest. the way he was so carefully looking at you made your chronic word vomit begin again. 

“no, nothing. i promise. i’ll be totally fine. i’m on unemployment now and it’s, like, actually paying me more than my job did, which is ironic, i guess. i wanted to hold off telling you because i…didn’t want you to feel like you have to do anything, you know? you’re busy, i don’t want to pull you away from your work.”

but what you really wanted to tell him was i don’t know how serious this is, i don’t know what level my expectations should be at or if i should care for you less than i already do. i don’t know what you think of me, of us. 

bo inspected you silently for another moment, but at least his frown faded some. when he finally did speak, his voice was soft.

“i’m sorry you felt the need to wait to tell me– really . i’m not saying–i’m not trying to be a dick. i know you did it because i’ve been so stressed out, but, i just want you to know–” he said your name, and despite the hard line of his mouth, it made your heart soar “–that i am never too busy to listen to what you’re going through.” 

his tone made your breath hitch in your throat. you sat in complete silence as he turned his body to face you, his long legs bent so that his knees trapped you on either side. he reached for your hands and clasped them earnestly in his. “i’m not just saying this. i don’t care what i’m doing–i really, really like you. um, in case that wasn’t obvious. and i want to be there for you.” 

you were practically dumbstruck by his confession. you could see his cheeks turn pink as he gazed down at you. you nodded slowly, but couldn’t keep your chest from tightening. he was feeling just as insecure as you were. about this. about you . 

this was definitely not how you pictured his birthday dinner going.

“i just…don’t want you to think that i’m expecting anything from you,” you said, avoiding his eyes. it made you feel more brave when you didn’t have to face is blue eyes. “i would never want to come between you and your work. and um,” an uncontrollable burst of nervous laughter left your lips, “i really like you, too. incase i wasn’t being totally obvious.”

over the course of the conversation, you both slowly leaned towards each other. there was barely any space between you two now. you watched him as he absently rubbed his calloused thumbs across the back of your hands.

“do you have any idea how badly i want to kiss you right now?”

you inhaled sharply, snapping your head to him. his gaze dropped to your mouth, a small smile on his lips. completely frozen, you stared at him, wide-eyed.

“are you done with your plate?” bo asked as if what he just said didn’t make your heart almost beat out of your chest.

he released your hands and it wasn’t until he reached for the dishes that you shook yourself from your daze. “oh, but i-i can get–”

he raised his hand. “let me.”

“but it’s your birthday,” you said, sounding breathless even to your ears.

“and you’ve had the week from hell.” he walked it over to the sink. 

you followed him over, your legs shaking slightly. you forced yourself to take a few short breaths to steady yourself. “we’ve all had a week from hell. and the summer from hell. we’re in the middle of a pandemic.” 

“all the more reason to help clean up.” 

you gave up and washed and dried the dishes in near silence. just like the sink at his guest house, he had to stoop over to reach it and your mind whirled–picturing him in your apartment didn’t give the reality justice. it was weirdly comforting to see him here, so relaxed. like he belonged there, with you.

do you have any idea how badly i want to kiss you right now? and did he know how badly you wanted him to? 

but you hadn’t said anything when he said that–you froze. did you give him the impression that you didn’t want to? was the moment now gone? could you get it back? 

“what’s going on up there?” bo asked, lightly tapping on your forehead. 

you laughed shyly. “well…do you want your birthday present now, or later?”

he raised one eyebrow as if he didn’t believe you. “dinner was more than enough.”

“so what you’re saying is you’re not going to accept the gift i picked out for you?” you teased. 

he balked. “wait, shit, you’re serious? no, i just–i wasn’t expecting–”

“i know, that’s why it’s called a gift– no strings attached.” he made a face and rolled his eyes. you raised your hands as a plea to keep him there. “wait out here, i’ll be back.”

when you returned from your bedroom, bo sat in the living room, head tilted to read the spines of the books and movies on your shelves. it was strange to see him on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. he turned to you when you sat down beside him. 

you tucked your legs underneath you and smoothed your dress over your thighs. there was barely an inch between you, his thigh touching your knee.

“it’s really nothing, i promise,” you said, watching him open it. “just something i thought would be useful.”

a smile broke out on his face and he laughed as he pulled out a small first aid kit. “you weren’t kidding.”

you feign a shocked look. “who, me? you’re the funny one. this is practical.” 

he inspected it for a moment, reading the label, before smiling over at you. sitting so close to him, you could see the dimple on his cheek. “this’ll definitely come in handy .”

he extended the hand out to you, palm up. 

you laughed and took it in yours, and rubbed your thumb softly over the lines and callouses on his palm. your heart pounded in your chest, all of your focus on your ministrations as you avoided looking him in the eye. 

you drifted up to the base of his long fingers before he suddenly captured yours in his, threading your much shorter fingers awkwardly with his.

you grinned at the extreme size difference when you looked up and saw him already looking at you–trained at your lips.

“can i kiss you?” he asked, his words barely a whisper.

“yes,” you breathed.

your breath caught in your throat when his other hand cupped the side of your face and your lips briefly touched his–but you barely felt any sensory details other than the press of his soft mouth on yours before he leaned away, his eyes open and searching yours. 

“i want to keep seeing you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. he ran a thumb over your bottom lip and you couldn’t contain the flutter in your chest at the gentle touch. 

you smiled. “really?”

“really.” he laughed suddenly. “man. this is giving me terrifying flashbacks from middle school.”

“maybe for you–no one ever asked me to be their girlfriend in middle school.” 

he chuckled softly at your lame joke. the intensity of his gaze made your insides melt. you could still feel his brief kiss on your lips, as if it’d been imprinted onto your skin. the distance between your mouths was torture. 

“i feel like–i know i’m asking for a lot, and i don’t think that i’m entitled to this at all. but…spending time with you made me realize that when i’m finished, i want to be with you. soon i’ll have more time to focus on the things i want to, outside of work. and you is what i want. not in, like, the neanderthal way–though there is a weird chemical in my lizard brain that makes me want to throw you over my shoulder, but i can’t really do anything about that.” 

you barely registered his joke as you blinked, shocked at his admittance. you weren’t used to a man being so open and upfront–and the fact that he blatantly said he wanted to be in a relationship with you made desire burn inside you.

“we can take this as slow as you want.” his eyes danced across your face. “is, um–is that what you want?”

“yes.” you let out a shaky breath. “bo, please kiss me.”

his smile flashed briefly across his face before he finally, finally closed the distance between you.

bo’s mouth was warm and desperate as it moved against yours. he was like a drowning man, clinging to you to keep himself from sinking. he cupped your cheek with one hand, while the other ran slowly from your knee up your thigh, his touch making your skin burn. it was overwhelming to feel so much of him at once and you let yourself sink into the feeling.

it was difficult to reach him while sitting, and you had to press yourself awkwardly into him to reach his mouth. when bo hugged you closer around your waist, you had to put a hand on his knee to steady yourself. 

“–get on top of me?” bo said against your mouth. your stomach took a nosedive, but you nodded. 

using his shoulders as leverage, you climbed into his lap, not caring how your dress rode up your thighs. bo appreciated the extra exposed skin, his fingers gripping onto your skin. you secretly hoped that it was with enough force to leave bruises behind. 

you didn’t want to waste the opportunity to feel as much of him as you could. you ran your hands over the thin material of his shirt covering his chest, his shoulders, down his arms. bo may be skinny, but you could feel his defined, lean muscles. and based on the way he was holding you now, you knew he was much stronger than he looked.

when your hands curled in his hair, he finally opened his mouth, and you both sighed when your tongues touched.

wow, he’s a good fucking kisser. not that you thought he’d be bad, but holy shit, the man can kiss. he put all of his focus into it, devouring you, moving his mouth against yours in a way that made you breathless. the feel of his tongue against yours, and his wet pants huffing out of his mouth made your toes curl. the sex between your legs began to pulse with desire. all from a kiss?

when bo pulled away, you whimpered as he kissed your cheeks and the corners of your mouth. his breaths were choppy against your skin, like he didn’t want to separate and waste time catching his breath.

you whimpered when his thumb pressed against the corner under your jaw, tilting your head back. you closed your eyes at the sensation of him planting wet, open-mouth kisses along your neck. you could feel the faintest scratches of his beard, causing you to shiver as it raked briefly across your skin.

his mouth traveled down one side of your throat, then the other, before stopping where his thumb was and pressed a closed-mouth kiss under your jaw, sucking the skin there. 

your hips did an uncontrollable jerk, and your eyes flew open. but when he made an encouraged moan against your skin–a sound that would be permanently etched into your brain–you rocked your hips against him hesitantly, lowering yourself until you were fully seated in his lap. 

the fingers on your thighs tightened their grip, sliding dangerously close to your ass. rocking your hips, you could feel bo’s erection pressed right on the seam of your panties– there . and, oh god, he was just as turned on as you were. 

“d-do i have to keep asking?” you were surprised you were able to still form complete sentences in the state you were in.

“ask what?” he murmured, still marking up your neck.

“for you t-to kiss–kiss me–” 

his mouth met yours in an instant, still hungry, still desperate. his fingers inched experimentally further up your thighs, and when you didn’t object, he cupped your ass. 

how the hell was he doing this? it was like he flipped a switch in you and you were revving to literally be fucked on the living room couch–

your fingers tightened their hold against his hair and he hissed, the sound shocking you into letting go immediately.

“ohmygodboi'msosorry.” your hands flew to cover your mouth. “did–did i hurt you?”

“it’s okay,” bo said with a laugh, his mouth slightly red. you could feel the hickies– hickies? plural?? –on your neck burn like bright beacons at the sight. his hair was messy, his shirt disheveled, but the large grin on his face was definitely what you would call boyish . “actually, would it be weird to say i really fucking like it?”

you lowered your hands from your face. “what are you like, a masochist?”

he huffed out another short laugh. he ran his hands slowly up your back, your dress riding up, exposing your ass. “ah, no, not really. well. maybe?” your eyes widened. he leaned in close so that his chest was pressed up against yours, his mouth at your ear. “i think i just really like it when you pull on my hair.”

you were sure the look on your face was priceless because he began to actually laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. “sorry, is that too weird? you don’t have–”

you pulled him down and you could still feel his lingering smile as he kissed you back. 

his erection still pressed perfectly against your core, and you began to slowly grind against it again. he palmed your ass, moving along with the movement of your hips. feeling a rush of confidence, you grabbed at the hair at the nape of his neck, a rush of air leaving his lips as his head jerked back, his throat now exposed to you.

planting a mess of kisses, you could feel the deep vibrations from his throat as sounds spilled from bo’s lips–pleas and whispers in the air– “feels so good–oh fuck, for so long–thought about you.” you felt a little thrill when you bit his ear and he pressed you tighter against him.

hesitantly, you ran a finger over the top button of his shirt. you popped it open with ease and continued further down, your tongue now on the dip between his clavicles. 

maybe it was this year, or quarantine, or the fact that you’ve had so little physical contact. but really–you thought while you bit back another moan as he grinded into you–you knew it was because this was bo. and he was as insanely magnetized to you just like you were to him and you wanted him so badly, it hurt. 

gripping the collar of his shirt, you leaned back. you weren’t sure how you looked, but judging by the dark look in his eyes, you could take a guess. “do–um, do you want to go to my room?” you asked shyly.

he panted, looking at you for a moment, still catching his breath. “i want this, but–i don’t want you to feel pressured or–i-if we’re moving too fast? i just don’t want you to feel like i’m expecting that–i really like you–”

you leaned forward to kiss him. “bo, i promise. i want this–i want you .”

his lips recaptured yours before you moved too far away. “okay, i just–i want this, too. god , do i want this.” he planted another kiss under your jaw before drawing his hands away from your body. “you better lead the way, or we’re fucking on this couch.”

you giggled as you struggled ungracefully off his lap. your legs were wobbly as you straightened your dress. bo pulled himself up, and you could see his cheeks burning a bright red. 

“ah, sorry about the, uh,” he brushed his thumb along your cheek, “the beard burn.”

“i don’t mind.” you grabbed his hand, leading him to your room. you could feel his eyes on your back and your heart pounded with every step. 

bo followed in after you, taking a moment to sweep his eyes around the room before landing on your bed. you turned your back to him to close the bedroom door. immediately, you felt his hands back on you.

he pressed you against his chest, his hands sliding up your knees to your thighs. he must have to crouch to reach, but you didn’t have time to process that thought before his hand slipped under your dress. your knees nearly buckled when he caressed your mound over your panties. 

bo pressed his cheek against yours, his voice fraying at the edges. “is this okay?”

you nodded. “yes, m-more than okay.” when you felt the pads of his fingers rub over your panties, your wetness spreading, your head fell back on his shoulder. he was slow, much slower than on the couch, and his ministrations drove you crazy. 

he nudged the strap of your dress off your shoulder with the tip of his nose, his lips following after it. he lifted one hand to trail up your torso over your dress, and knowing his destination, you arched your back to unclasp your bra. 

slowly, so slowly, he inched down the top of your sundress, pulling down the cups of your bra and exposing your breasts. you shivered as he ran his thumb lightly under one before rubbing your hardening nipple.

the darkness of the room heightened your other senses. you could barely hear yourself think, let alone process anything bo whispered in your ear. because not only does bo like to talk, he likes to talk dirty .

“fuck, just look at you,” he murmured as he admired his handiwork from over your shoulder. “fuuuck, you look so cute like this.”

you could barely hold yourself together, and bo took your weight as you leaned back against him. you whined as he gently caressed your breast, his calloused fingers rubbing gentle circles around your areola. his other hand merely cupped your sex, not doing anything but groping you in a way that made you begin to rock your hips slightly in his hand, the friction–or rather, lack thereof–making you breathless.

“oh god, bo,” you said, your voice sounding drugged. “please, bo–”

his hands disappeared from your body immediately and he spun you around, pushing you back against the door. even in the dark, you could see him towering over you. 

you didn’t have time to feel embarrassed at your exposed breasts or wobbly limbs because he leaned down to kiss you, anchoring you to the door. his hips pressed flush against you, and you could feel his hard cock straining against the thin material of your dress. bo hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering to unbutton it. 

suddenly, bo fell to his knees in front of you, and you didn’t want to think too hard about how hot you found someone so big and tall on his knees in front of you. 

his hands crawled up your thighs, his lips following, and his fingers hooked the sides of your panties and pulled them down. you lifted one leg, then the other, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep your balance. you giggled nervously until bo’s head disappeared under the skirt of your sundress.

“fuck, you’re so wet. let me clean up the mess i made,” he said before pressing a kiss right on you. 

you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue laving against your folds, fluttering between them, his hot breath against your clit. chasing after that feeling, you lifted one leg over his shoulder and he rewarded you with a broad lick.

“o-oh okay, just let me know, um, i-if you need air,” you stuttered nervously.

you couldn’t hear bo laughing, but you did feel a warm huff of silent laughter against your bare pussy. “if i die from this–what a way to fucking go.”

now you laughed, but it was abruptly cut when he spread your lips with his fingers and began to explore you, kissing and licking and sucking. 

the sight of his head buried at the apex of your thighs alone made you feel strangely powerful–that you brought this man to his knees, completely devoted to eating you out before you’d even shed all of your clothes. 

he circled two fingers around your entrance before slowly working them in, his tongue lapping you up. he increased his pace as your cunt stretched to his fingers, going deeper, reaching a part of you that made it hard to breath.

your head fell back against the door with a painful thunk.

bo winced at the sound, lifting his head out. “you good?” he asked, humor in his eyes, his fingers still lazily pumping into you.

“sh-shut up.” your face burned as you tangled your hand in his hair and yanked him back. he hummed in pleasure.

“give me your hand.” he didn’t wait, and moved one hand from his shoulder to your pussy. “touch– please , touch yourself. show me what you like.” he kissed the inside of your thigh.

oh, shit. this was it, this was how you were going to die. your heart hammered in your chest as you shyly began touching yourself. your fingers rubbed your swollen clit, and you quickly lost yourself to the sensation, feeling his fingers pump into you, filling you up.

you gasped when bo kissed your hand as it worked over you before his tongue lapped at your dripping digits. he sucked your fingers before trialing his tongue between them, right on your bundle of nerves. he flickered across it, making your hips jerk, and you spread your lips for him– holy fucking shit.

you could tell the gears in his head were turning as he tried to figure out what you liked. when you tightened your grip on his hair and clenched around his thick fingers at the perfect sensation, bo kept that pace. interspersed with broad licks and kisses on the inside of your thighs, he quickened his pace until you were shamelessly rocking against his mouth, your moans now high-pitched whines.

“oh, fuck– please , please keep touching yourself,” he hissed into you. movement from his other hand made you glance down, and you saw him run the heel of his hand over his clothes, pawing at his erection desperately.

there was no politeness shared between bo’s mouth and your fingers as you worked yourself to an orgasm–his tongue bumped into your fingers, his teeth nibbled your knuckles, and the combined wetness of his mouth and your cunt made both work in a fever, slipping you higher and higher until your whole body tightened with the incoming impact of your orgasm.

you didn’t even have time to warn bo before you moaned his name, your head thrown back and your pussy convulsing on his fingers. he maintained his pace until you came down from your high, and despite your sensitive clit, you didn’t want this to end. 

you were so full, but not full enough. and you missed him, his eyes. 

you wanted him inside you now . 

“yeah, baby?” bo teased, his voice muffled. 

shit, you definitely said that out loud–though considering the state you were in, you were sure you’d murmured a lot of other embarrassing things. your heart fluttered at the nickname “baby.”

“well, you only had to ask,” he said, giving one last kiss on your pussy before slowly pulling his fingers out. 

he rocked back on his heels and stood up to his full height, and the sight of him made you completely weak. his sweaty hair stuck up in odd angles, his lips were wet, and he had a huge shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

mustering as much sass as you could despite how breathless you were. “can you please fuck me until i can’t walk?” you asked, and tilted your head with a smile. “you mean like that?”

bo wrapped his arm around you, pulling you from the door. you stumbled into him.

“i’m pretty sure you can barely walk already, baby.” he pressed his face against your ear, a flood of goosebumps danced your skin. “your whole body’s shaking.” 

your body hummed at the feeling of your breasts against his bare chest. your hand slid between you two, and bo bucked when your hand passed over the tent in his pants. “guess i’m not the only one–”

bo interrupted you with a bruising, short kiss. leaning away, he walked backwards until the back of his knees hit your bed, and he pushed down his pants. your hands hurried to pull down your dress and untangled your bra from its straps. your eyes caught his hardened cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. 

this is really happening. but you didn’t feel scared–nervous, yes, but confident, assured. desire was plain on his face as he stared at your naked body approaching him, raking his eyes up and down your form, his mouth slightly open. 

you climbed back in his lap and his hungry mouth immediately caught your lips, his tongue already forcing itself between them. your tongue shyly tasted yourself on his, and he moaned when you licked and bit his lip. 

you both crawled to the middle of the bed, and when bo’s head relaxed against your pillows, his hands ran wildly over your body as if he couldn’t get enough. you yanked down his boxer briefs and caught his warm cock in your hand, wrapping your hand tightly around him. 

“fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he muttered as you pumped him. 

his hands drifted up your torso to cup your breasts, running his thumbs over your nipples. he captured one with his mouth, flicking his tongue against the hardening nipple. he rocked briefly against you, beads of his precum smearing on your inner thigh. 

in a moment of hazy clarity, you released him and leaned toward your drawer, grabbing a condom. bo jerked his cock as you fumbled with the package. 

“here, sweetie, let me.” he took it from you and rolled it on as you kissed him with your heart in your throat. 

when you felt his warm hand on your hip and the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, you shivered.

“okay?” he kissed your ear, his breathing ragged. 

you nodded quickly. “ yes, please. please please please–”

bo guided you on his cock and the first breach almost made you feel like you couldn’t take it. but after the head slid in, the rest followed, dragging deliciously against your walls and filling you to the brim, until he completely bottomed out with a moan. you clenched around him and he buried his head into your neck as he waited for you to adjust to his size. you were slick and full and fevered and– god , you never felt this full in your life . 

when you could finally move, you pushed yourself up. bo’s head pressed against your pillow, his eyes half-lidded and mouth slightly open. as he looked at you, a pang of achy lust shot through you. you rolled your hips tentatively and sparks lit up inside. 

“oh, god,” bo moaned when you rocked your hips again, and again. he gripped your hips tightly. “fuck. so, so good. you are so beautiful– so sexy.”

you leaned further back, and his eyes roved across your body. his eyes still on you, he lifted his right thumb to his mouth and gave it a long, deliberate lick, watching as your mouth fell open at the sight, before sucking it into his mouth–an image that will be forever seared into your brain. reaching down, he pressed his wet thumb against your clit, and bolts of electricity made you tingle. you pressed your hands against him for leverage so that you wouldn’t collapse, your eyes slipping closed in overwhelmed bliss.

bo continued to talk, his sentences fragmented and desperate as they washed over you, not bothering to focus on his words. he whined–literally whined –your name when you rocked in a way he very much enjoyed. he rewarded you by increasing the pace on your clit, and you clenched tightly around his cock as your legs burned with effort to stay upright.

sensing your struggle, he wrapped his arm around your lower back and leaned forward. the angle made him hit deeper, knocking the breath clear out of you as you desperately clung to him, reaching for his hair, his shoulders, anything. 

when your arms gave out on you, bo flipped you both so that you were on your back. he slipped out of you, and the loss made you whimper.

“fuck. look at you, just look at you ,” he murmured so low, you had to strain to hear him.

one hand slipped under your leg to bend it at the knee, pushing it to your chest as he grabbed himself to position his cock at your entrance. you shivered as you felt him prod against you, and his mouth scattered kisses across your chest and breasts as he pumped slowly into you, waiting for you to stretch and open yourself around him. 

this new angle was going to kill you, and you wrapped your other leg quickly around his waist. he snapped his hips, driving into you at a mind-numbing pace. you could barely catch your breath. 

“so close–i'mgonnacomebaby.” he increased his speed, skin slapping in the background. “f uuuck –”

your lips traveled up his neck, and when you nibbled shyly at his skin, he shuddered. now that he was the one at a loss for words, you filled in the silence with choppy sentences– “hardest i’ve ever come–your mouth felt so good–don’t stop fucking me like this–you’re so deep–”

when he bucked deep inside you in response, and you both moaned loudly at the sensation. his thrusts became less controlled. you pushed his hair from his face and tangled it in your fingers, pulling at it slightly. he hissed at the sensation, his breathing becoming more labored as you continued to tell him how sexy he was, how good he made you feel, when his thrusts becomes more erratic. 

bo tensed, and moaned your name as he came. you held onto him as he twitched and shuddered, your heart in your throat, his pants cooling your sweaty skin. when he was done, he nearly collapsed on top of you but caught himself, and rolled off, pulling you towards him.

“wow.” bo pushed his hair from his sweaty forehead and shook his head at the ceiling. 

you couldn’t help it–you began laughing. “i agree–'wow.’” bo rolled his eyes, pulling you tighter against him. “wait–take that off.”

“oh, right.” 

after he disposed of the condom, you laid together, quietly catching your breaths. resting your head against his chest, you could hear his heartbeat return to normal as he ran his finger tips over your hip and ass. 

“so, we’re like, official, right?” bo asked suddenly. you bursted out laughing. “are you always so giggly after sex?” 

you shrugged, still laughing quietly. “you made me come– standing up and against my bedroom door . i think it’s obvious that you’re my boyfriend now.”

he kissed the top of your head, laughing with you. “i just like to be sure.”

“you just want me to call you boyfriend,” you teased. 

“you caught me,” he murmured against your temple. “it’s been a while for me…i was absolutely going to come way too fast if i didn’t eat you out.”

a shiver crawled up your spine. “hmm, i think you enjoyed it a bit more than to just be polite.”

he pressed close to your ear, dragging the tip of his nose against the curve of it. “there wasn’t anything polite about you fucking my face like that .” 

you hid your burning face into his neck, laughing. “jesus bo, it’s like you want to go again.”

“i mean, the night is young.” he pulled back and wiggled his eyes at you. “can’t get rid of me now. your pussy put a spell on me.”

you burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder. 

“so… do you want to stay the night?” you bit your lip despite how swollen it was. “i have an extra toothbrush.”

the smile that broke across his face made your heart melt at the sight. “absolutely. but first, a shower.”