Page 48 of Sex Positive

She gasps. Hundreds of buildings extend for what looks like miles, the reflection of the setting sun hitting some of the glossy panels just right, orange globes on the mirrored surfaces. In the distance, Charlie spies water and a few bridges, and past that, more buildings. She’s never seen something so stunning in her life.

“This is one of my favorite views.” Wes stands beside her, so close his arm brushes hers. She doesn’t pull away as she scans the city below. “It’s mostly Lower Manhattan.” He points at one of the bridges out the east-facing wall. “The Brooklyn Bridge and the East River.” He turns, facing west. “New Jersey is over there.”

“It’s incredible.” She blinks up at him. He watches her with a slight furrow between his brow. She has a sudden urge to press her thumb to the crease and smooth it.

Instead, she turns to the desk. The computer monitor is off, a pile of papers stacked neatly to one side. A photo catches her eye, and she lifts it without thinking.

“Oh my god.” She lets out a surprised laugh, turning the frame for him to see. “Is thisyou?”

Wes flushes. She does not think about how adorable it is, directing her attention back to the photo. A young boy and girl, both with bright blond hair, stand in front of a large tree trunk, grinning toothily. The boy is dressed as Woody fromToy Story, blond hair so light it’s nearly platinum peeking out from under a cowboy hat. He’s missing his two front teeth.

“Look how cute you are.” She looks at him. “What happened?”

He rolls his eyes and makes a halfhearted attempt to extract the photo from her grasp. She laughs, raising it above her head.

“I don’t know why he insists on keepingthatone here,” he mutters. When he inches closer to her and his body presses against her side, her heart rate quickens. “I think I’m six or seven.” He points to the girl dressed as Buzz Lightyear. Her long blond hair pokes out of her space helmet. “That’s my sister, Emilia. She’s a year younger. Sheinsistedon being Buzz if I was going to be Woody. She even went full Method acting and attempted to fly by jumping off our swing set, which landed her in the emergency department instead of trick-or-treating.”

Charlie bursts out laughing. When she looks at him, he observes her with a soft smile.

“I bet you tease her mercilessly,” she replies.

He doesn’t look away. “Every Halloween.”

Charlie returns the photo to the desk. She’s never been upset not to have any siblings of her own, but she occasionally wonders what it would be like to have another person help carry her parents’ expectations.

“Today was fun, Rogers,” he says. “I missed this.”

Charlie’s lips part, shock electrifying her blood. “This?”

“Yeah.” He studies her, his body still. “This. Spending time with you.”

Her walls rumble under his confession, and she is unmoored, the pleasant, easy companionability vanishing at his honesty. How could he possibly miss something that felt to her like pity?

He steps closer, and she doesn’t move. Raising a hand, he tucks a loose curl behind her ear. His fingers linger on her jaw, sliding to her chin, tipping her face up to his.

The view, the buildings, the city blur at the edges of her vision. Her focus narrows to his fingers brushing her skin, his mouth coming closer, her complete lack of desire to pull away.

“Wes?”

She startles with a soft gasp. His hand vanishes, and suddenly there’s space between them again. The loss of contact leaves her cold.

A tall man with graying brown hair stands at the door, wearing a sharp gray suit. His eyes flick between the two of them, brow creased with mild confusion.

“Dad,” Wes says, and Charlie startles again, staring at the man with clearer focus. “Hey. Willis said you left for the day.”

Mr. Quinn enters the office, his frame similar to his son’s but lankier. He carries himself with the confidence of someone who frequently commands attention, and Charlie notes how similar it is to how Wes comports himself.

“My four o’clock canceled, so I ran back here to do some work before meeting my five o’clock. Did you see my message?”

Wes stiffens at his father’s tone, curt and businesslike. “No, I’ve been busy—”

“Good thing I ran into you, then, since you can’t be bothered to check your phone. Martin is out sick, and I need someone else I trust for this recruitment dinner. You need to come with me.”

Wes’s gaze flickers to Charlie before returning to his father, who flips through a few of the papers in the pile on his desk. “I thought we were meeting for dinner later. At seven—”

His father doesn’t look up. “You’re here now, aren’t you? What difference does two hours make?”

The tension in the office is suffocating. Charlie wishes she could disappear.