Derek recognized Jessie’s soft, clean perfume the moment she entered any room. He’d know it was her, blindfolded, every single time simply from how her scent danced around him every time she breezed through. He’d bet his life on it.

It made it damn near impossible to make it through his workday, considering they shared a cubicle wall.

“Well, the badge scanner is on the fritz again,” Jessie Morrison announced as she strode straight into Derek’s cube and dropped off two cups of coffee on his desk. She peeled off her knit cap, completely oblivious as the motion sent little droplets of melted snow sprinkling onto Derek’s desk papers before picking up her cup and taking a hasty sip. “That’s the third time this week!”

Derek spun in his office chair to face her, eyeing her from beneath his heavy brows. “I didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

Jessie shrugged. “I’m not trying to. It’s just obvious and annoying, and therefore, I remember. It was fine Monday, it happened Tuesday and Wednesday, and it worked fine again yesterday. Now today it’s-”

“Back on the fritz,” Derek finished for her.

Jessie cocked her hip to the side and rolled her eyes as she whipped off her gray scarf. “Yes,” she said with a sigh.

“I’m sorry?” Derek offered, giving Jessie a sheepish look before reaching for his coffee. He took a sip and grimaced as he swallowed. “Jesus, what the hell is this?”

“It’s coffee,” Jessie replied, furrowing her brow at him. “Obviously.”

“I know it’s coffee, but where the hell did you get it?”

Jessie blinked. “The new place that opened right downstairs.”

“It’s open? I didn’t know that.” Behind him, Derek turned to see the notification that pinged on his computer, sitting the coffee cup back down on his desk. “Oh, shit, meeting in the conference room in five.” He reached for his tablet and shoved a pen into the chest pocket.

“Mmm,” Jessie grumbled, picking up her latte and pursing her lips at Derek as she backed out of his cube to head into her own. “And good morning to you, too, Mr. Grumpy.”

Derek closed his eyes and hitched a quiet breath at her words, silently blessing the cube wall separating their workspaces for the little privacy it gave him. Moments like these brought him back to just why being Jessie’s co-worker made getting through his day feel like a Sisyphean trial.

For the last two years, he’d worked with Jessie, sometimes sharing projects and lab testing but always right next door as her cube neighbor. Ever since Jessie joined the firm that spring day, he’d been… slightly obsessed. And the worst part of it all was that Derek was one-hundred percent certain Jessie did not see him in the same light.

Derek spent the entire design status meeting spinning his pen around his first and fourth fingers, sending into a little helicopter propeller motion - something his coworkers had long learned to ignore. Derek claimed it helped him concentrate, but what exactly he was concentrating on was far from work.

Jessie.

He was stuck on her, no matter what he did to break free of it, though he was the first to admit he did little to fight it. It was all too easy to let his thoughts spiral, and it seemed to getting worse with each passing week, ever since the company party back in June. Their engineering firm had rented a yacht from Green Bay as a company outing and had taken the staff on a scenic city skyline ride along the Hudson and East Rivers. The skies had been clear, the summer sunset was bright, the music pounding, and the bar open. And like the rest of their coworkers, Derek and Jessie had downed a few drinks over the three-hour dinner cruise, loosening their lips just enough for Derek to have learned all about Jessie’s new boyfriend.

Well, that had been a joy.

And ever since, the obsession - which, prior to that day, had been a minor interest - had flared to life like gas on a flame. Derek didn’t know what made him feel so angry hearing about Rick or Rob or whatever his name was, but it made his stomach sour and made his heart pound uncomfortably.

The trip was over. Everyone said their goodbyes and left for home, but something inside Derek had never really left that boat’s bar. The vinyl stool he’d sat on beside Jessie the whole time they’d amusedly watched their drunken colleagues make fools of themselves on the dance floor became something else entirely in Derek’s mind - a prison of his own making: the dreaded Friend Zone.

Months passed and here they were, just weeks from Christmas, and Derek was still stuck on that damn yacht, watching Jessie leave.

“What do you think, Derek?” Terrence asked from across the conference room table, one dark brow crooked in question, snatching Derek from his memories. “Will the new chassis design have room for the additional circuitry?”

Derek cleared his throat, buying time, trying to recall what the hell they might have been talking about. He took a shot and replied with a nod, “Yes, I think we could accommodate that change.”

“You think or you know?” Terrence pressed. “We don’t want to go to production and have a real estate issue on our hands,” he added, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Why don’t you connect with Morrison on this one and have her create a 3-D prototype of the new chassis, so we can be sure?”

Sucking in a breath at the mention of Jessie’s name, Derek tamped down his excitement at having a reason to pull her onto his current project, making even more of an excuse to spend time with her. Feigning nonchalance, Derek shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” Terrence said with a nod, satisfied. “That should be it for now. I’ll schedule a follow up with the team for one week from today; that should be enough time for you to get with Morrison and get what we need.”

I wish, Derek thought wryly.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he replied aloud, keeping his thoughts to himself as he gathered his tablet and slid his glasses back into his pocket, along with his spare pen.

Derek’s heartbeat was erratic as he loped back to his desk, his six-foot-three body leaving him feeling a bit awkward and strange in his own skin. He needed to get his thoughts under control before talking to Jessie. He peeled off the main hallway toward the men’s room to use the bathroom and just chill for a second; practically salivating over the chance of working with Jessie hours at a time the following week.

I need to get a grip on- his thought was briskly interrupted as he turned the corner and crashed directly into a sweet-smelling wall of Jessie, knocking her into the gray cube right as the collision sent Derek’s tablet slipping from his grip directly onto the toes of his shoes.

“Hey!” Jessie called, surprise thick in her voice right as at the same time Derek howled beneath his breath, “Ouch, Jesus!”

“What the hell, Derek?” Jessie asked, staring at him wide eyed as she rubbed her shoulder. “You practically ran me over.”

“Shit, sorry, sorry,” Derek said as he clamored to pick up his tablet and kneeled to rub at the top of his left shoe. “I... think I broke my toe.” He was busy pressing down on his throbbing baby toe when Jessie’s hearty laugh had him tipping his chin back up to her in disbelief. “What’s so funny?” he mumbled, the pain in his toe subsiding as he stared at the dimple on her right cheek.

Jessie sighed, squatting down to be nearly eye-level. “Oh, Derek,” Jessie shook her head, her hazel eyes dancing with humor, “there’s no way you broke your toe through the leather of your shoes.”

Derek blinked, realizing the pain was now completely gone. He looked down at his foot and felt the heat creep up his neck toward his hairline. “No, I guess that’s not likely.”

“Nope,” Jessie agreed, shaking her head back and forth slowly. She reached over to pat Derek’s right shoulder. “Come on, Ferdinand, let’s get you up.”

Derek stood, tucking his tablet beneath his arm. “Ferdinand?”

“You know, Ferdinand the Bull, the children’s story?”

He chuckled, “No, I must’ve missed that one.”

“Well, let’s get you to your desk and you can sit and smell the flowers for a few minutes and mind that toe of yours.”

Derek didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but it didn’t matter because Jessie still had her hand on his bicep, gently leading him back toward their cubicles. Her hand felt warm even through the thin cotton of his dress shirt, his top button suddenly feeling way too constricting even though it was unbuttoned. And was that a bead of sweat rolling between his shoulder blades?

“Here we go, Jansen,” Jessie announced as she gently shoved him into his cube, motioning toward his chair. “Have a seat and perhaps you can distract yourself from the pain of your toe by asking me if I’m okay, considering the bull in a china shop move you just pulled.”

He was an idiot. An absolute grade-A idiot.

“Oh, Jessie, I’m so sorry,” Derek began, eyes wide. “I was rushing to the bathroom after the meeting and wasn’t paying attention. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”

Jessie giggled again, crossing her arms over her chest. “Of course I’m okay, you blubbering fool,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully. “I’m not quite as delicate as china.”

Derek swallowed, images of Jessie in delicate lace, delicate positions, her delicate skin marked by him... they flooding his mind at the most inappropriate moments in all of time and space. “No, of course you’re not.” It was a weak, unconvincing reply, but he’d managed it.

“Of course I’m not,” Jessie echoed. “Now that’s done with, let’s get some Thai for lunch later.”

Jessie pulled her cell phone from her back pocket and unlocked it, opening up the app to get an order placed for later. “I’ve been craving spring rolls.”

The side of Derek’s lip lifted in a hint of a smile, his heart rate finally settling into something resembling normalcy. “Only you could crave spring rolls. You don’t even get the fried ones.”

Jessie lifted her brow. “Well, some of us eat things that are green and some of us survive on ‘swill’ and negativity.”

Derek felt his lips twitch again as he watched the mirth in her eyes. “You’ll get my negativity in full force next week when I’m constantly dissatisfied with the 3D prototype of our new design you make me.”

“Really?” Jessie’s voice rose an octave as her eyes lit up. “I love prototyping!”

Derek nodded. “I know, but don’t thank me. It was all Terrence. We need to be sure the new design’s circuitry will fit in the chassis without having to change dimensions.”

Nodding, Jessie agreed. “Makes sense. I’m sure I can find time to work on that, along with my other projects.”

Jessie snapped her head when the sound of her desk phone rang on the other side of the cube. “Shoot, I’m expecting a call from a vendor. Let me grab that,” she said, distractedly dropping her cell down on Derek’s desk as she shot over to her cubicle.

Just as she stepped away, Jessie’s cell phone pinged, an alert lighting up her lock screen. Derek didn’t mean to look, but since the phone was just inches from his face, it was hard for his eyes not to notice Fish’s obvious icon - one he recognized from his own lukewarm on-and-off experiences with the same dating app.

Since when was Jessie on a dating app? What happened to Rick or Rob, or the guy from the summer? And why the hell did Derek not know Jessie was single again? And why was he staring at her phone screen, memorizing her screen name - “A.A.Bev” - and reading notification that some dude named Jeremy wanted to connect with her?

Derek did not like this guy called Jeremy.

But Derek had an idea.

A very, very bad idea. An idea that could help him get the one thing he’d wanted for the last six months: Jessie finally seeing him as someone other than a co-worker or friend. Derek wanted out of the Friend Zone.

He ached to know what every inch of her skin felt like. Derek wanted to memorize the shape of her body with his hands. He yearned to recognize the taste of her tongue, the way he recognized her scent in the air. He was desperate for her to see him in a new light - not as her crabby, awkward colleague, but as a man worthy of her affection.

Maybe, someday, a man even worthy of her love.

“Desperate times and all,” Derek murmured, emblazoning Jessie’s screen name in his memory for after work.

He had a new profile to make.

“I don’t get him, Paige,” Jessie said, shaking her head as she chewed and swallowed her last bite of her burger. “Sometimes it’s like he’s two different people.”

Paige took a swig of her beer and set it down, her face stone-cold serious. “Wait. Are we talking about Derek? Again?”

Jessie shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

“So you spend an awful lot of your time thinking about the guy.”

“Well, he’s strange. It’s like… he’s a mystery I’m trying to figure out.”

A single, dark brow arched over Paige’s right eye. “Uh, huh? Right.”

Jessie grabbed her beer bottle and brought it to her lips, shaking her head. “No, no. I don’t think I do.”

“Oh, really? Then why do we spend every dinner discussing him for at least forty percent of our time together?”

“We don’t,” Jessie scoffed.

“We do,” Paige stated. “I think he sounds a little strange, but mostly he sounds… I don’t know… nice?”

“Ha,” Jessie said, cocking her head. “Derek is anything but nice. He’s constantly in a sour mood, all worked up and mumbling to himself. And the other half of the time, he’s quiet and barely speaks a word to me. I’m lucky to get a gruff nod those days.”

It was quiet momentarily before Paige gently placed her hand on Jessie’s and asked, “So, why do you hang out with him?”

“I… don’t know,” Jessie shrugged. “Sometimes I think he’s lonely. Sometimes I think he’s shy and needs someone to help break the ice. And when he comes out of his gloomy shell, he’s actually hilarious, and he... “Jessie felt a smile tug at her lips. “He makes me laugh.”

“And you’re sure you maybe don’t like him? Just a little?” Paige pressed, smiling at her best friend across the table.

“He’s just not my type,” Jessie answered, shaking her head.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Paige grinned. “What exactly is your type these days, Morrison? Last I knew, you were pretty into tall, tan, and handsome. Does this Derek not fit that bill?”

Jessie felt her cheeks blush. “I think I need someone more…” she sighed, shaking her head again. “I don’t know. Just someone more into me. Like, who I am as a person.”

“You deserve that,” Paige agreed. “I just don’t know why you think he’s not into you. I mean, you know you’re pretty hot. You run nine miles a week, and you’re fit as hell. You’re a mechanical engineer who likes to fix cars in your spare time. Let’s face it - you’re any dude’s wet dream.”

Jessie’s flush darkened further. “Thanks, Paige, that’s sweet of you to say, but I’m clearly not his type.”

“Aha!” Paige exclaimed, her eyes glinting with glee. “I knew it. You like him!”

“I do not!”

“You just keep telling yourself that, sister,” Paige said, bringing her beer back to her lips and tossing back what was left of the bottle.

An hour later, Jessie was home, flopped down on her couch in her cozy flannel PJs, opening up her Fish app.

She’d never tried a dating app before, but when she’d heard about this one, she figured she’d try it. After she and James had parted ways two months ago, their summer romance as short-lived as the season itself, Jessie had wondered if she’d ever find “the one.”

Between work and a scarce group of mutual friends still in the city after getting jobs and moving on after grad school, Jessie didn’t have a ton of outlets in which to meet new people. A dating app had seemed like a good idea. But after almost a month on the site, Jessie hadn’t found over three or four profiles that piqued her curiosity, and each of them had turned out to be of little interest once she had a couple of brief interchanges online.

Jessie sighed as she scrolled through the profiles of the people who’d shown interest in connecting with her, seeing the same images she’d seen for weeks until a picture she didn’t recognize caught her eye.

The photo was in low light, barely more than a silhouette of a man who seemed quite tall and broad against a back-lit background. She couldn’t tell if his hair was short or pulled back, but by the wisps in shadow near his neck, Jessie thought maybe it was back in a man-bun kind of thing. She couldn’t decipher much about his appearance other than he was big. Built. And completely shirtless.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly flooding with saliva as her heart raced. Jessie never reacted to profile pictures like this.

With an eager finger, she swiped right on Hank Johnson.

Derek's phone pinged from the pillow beside his head, and his tense body reacted to the sound with a startled jerk. “Shit!”

He palmed his phone in his hand, and his pulse pounded in his throat when he saw the sound was a notification from Fish.

“It worked,” he breathed, looking at the message alerting him that an A.A. Bev had swiped right on him, too. “Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself, scrambling to set up and lean against his headboard, “stay cool.”

His right hand shook as he tapped Jessie’s profile - the little green dot showing she was active online - and began composing a message. It took about forty seconds for him to decide to go with Hi.

Immediately, his phone pinged with her reply.

> Hello.

> How are you?

Derek cursed under his breath at his ineptitude. Why couldn’t he sound intriguing instead of like a high schooler?

> I’m fine and you?

Derek took a deep breath. This wasn’t him; this was Hank - and Hank could do all the things Derek wasn’t brave enough, cool enough, confident enough, or comfortable enough to ever do. Exhaling slowly and willing his pounding heart to settle down, Derek replied.

> Better now.

His phone was quiet for a full minute, sending Derek’s blood pressure skyrocketing once again, before Jessie’s reply came through.

> That’s bold of you.

> Why pretend like I didn’t want you to contact me when I’ve been sitting here thinking about you for an hour?

Derek hit send on the message and cringed, squinting his eyes down, wondering if he’d just killed all possibility of hope with this absurd plan. After another agonizing minute, a reply appeared on his screen.

> And what exactly did you like about my profile? 

> Besides your pic, you mean?

Derek wondered if this was flirting. If it was, he was simultaneously in awe over the tingling feeling deep in his gut - more like a flock of geese than butterflies - and hating how his palms were sweating and how he felt almost lightheaded.

> Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.

 He huffed a laugh. Fuck it, he thought to himself. Hank Johnson had something to say about that. 

> Didn’t you?

> What was it about me that caught your attention?

> I’m sure it wasn’t my obvious good looks.

> Your pic was a little... mysterious.

> And you like that? 

> OK. I’ll answer honestly.

> I liked your chest.

> Your turn.

Derek inhaled. 

> I like your smile.

> Your mouth.

Again, Derek waited, not breathing, not moving an inch. Was he being a vile pervert? Would he scare Jessie away and ruin any chance he had of ever finding himself closer to her? Finally, after a full eighty-four seconds (he counted), Jessie’s reply pinged his phone.

> Tell me more about yourself, mysterious Hank.

A grin stretched wide across his face, and Derek settled back onto his headboard, finally feeling like he’d been granted some permission for which he’d never truly asked. He started typing line after line, little snippets about himself - all true - just things he never had the guts to share in his real life.

He told Jessie that Hank was an only child and grew up independently. His parents divorced when he was young, and shortly after, his father died in a car accident. He told her he worked in insurance and traveled a lot, which he definitely did not, but he hoped the white lie would steer Jessie away from asking too much about his profession. He admitted he was often lonely and spent a disproportionate amount of his time at the gym simply because he had nothing better to do - and no one to do it with.

Jessie shared things about herself in return, and Derek was surprised to realize most of what she messaged him were things he already knew about her from their real-life interaction at work over the last couple of years. He’d known from a casual conversation that Jessie, too, was an only child. But Derek hadn’t known she was a product of an unfortunate youth spent in orphanages and foster homes until she became emancipated at age seventeen.

The thought of sweet, smart, lively Jessie spending all those years alone and suffering made something deep within his ribcage ache, made his heart race with bursts of anger toward the injustice of it all. His fingers whipped across his phone screen, and for a moment, he didn’t know if it was Hank or Derek typing a reply.

> You’re not alone.

> Neither are you.

Jessie’s reply came moments later, along with a picture of what he knew had to be her hand in her lap, palm upturned in silent question as if waiting for him to hold it.

Derek groaned.

There was no other word for it - a sound from deep in the back of his throat filled with longing, need, relief and heartbreak all at once.

His fingers ached to slide against hers and touch that warm, soft skin he felt through his dress shirt that morning. He squeezed his palm into a fist, wishing to feel something other than empty air and his bones and tendons.

He wanted to prove how much he wanted her, how amazing she’d made him feel with those three simple words. And though he’d started this whole thing as brave Hank, all Derek desperately wanted was to give something of himself, something that would make Jessie feel safe and wanted, the way the picture of her hand had made him feel.

> Can I send you a picture?

> Yes!

Derek smiled at her timid reply. He was certain she expected a dick pic to come through the app at any moment. Instead, he searched on his phone and sent a zoomed-in image of the near-touching hands of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam painting, hoping it conveyed what he was trying to communicate.

> Oh!

When Jessie replied, Derek wasn’t sure he’d been successful. Her single word left him scrambling, trying to backtrack and return to the easy chat and banter from before.

> Sorry if that was too much; it just made me think of that.

> Anyway, never mind.

> No! Sorry, no, it wasn’t too much.

> It was beautiful.

Like you, Derek thought.

> Glad you liked it.

> So I need to ask you something.

> Okay…

> It’s really deep and personal, fair warning.

> Okay…

> What does A.A. stand for?

> LOL!

> Oh my gosh, you really had me nervous there.

> Well, your boy Hank wants to know who he just held hands with.

> That’s a lot for a first date, you know.

> First date? You’re cute.

Derek blushed as he replied, pushing again to see if Jessie would reveal her name.

> And you’re only initials.

> Tell me your name, pretty girl.

> You know already.

Fuck.

Where did Derek screw up? How had Jessie figured him out so quickly? He was so, so dead. Derek sat with his phone in his right hand, his left angrily shoving stray locks of hair that had fallen out of the tie-back at the top of his head. He started sweating again, his hand finally settling over the thin seam of his lips as he stared at the phone and waited for whatever horrible thing was coming next.

But it never came.

Instead, another message appeared after an interminably long moment.

> My name is Jessie. I use the initials to keep some semblance of privacy.

Derek’s hand dropped from his mouth as he huffed out an enormous sigh, his body sagging and his eyes closing in utter relief.

> Jessie.

> I like it. Little sunshine.

> I don’t know about that…

> I do.

> I’m already happier in the last hour chatting with you than I’ve been in months.

> Maybe years.

> That’s… another wow!

> Send me another picture of yourself.

> Not your hands.

> Wow me!

> If you’re a good boy, maybe I will...

Goddamn, if that didn’t make Derek’s cock hard. She was killing him slowly. Just the thought of Jessie even considering sending him another picture was almost more than Derek could handle.

Derek had spent months fantasizing about how he could get Jessie to ever talk to him like this, to see him differently, and here he was mere hours after creating his alter ego, and it was perfect. He bit the corner of his lip, debating whether he should reply with the thought that just came to mind. Would it scare her off once and for all? Or could Hank Johnson help show her just what Derek was capable of?

Jessie was perfect. His plan, though far from perfect and poorly crafted in its planning phase, was working with the engineering precision he was accustomed to. Somehow, he’d figure it out. He’d think about it and come up with a way to tell Jessie the truth and make it right.

Some day, he’d fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. She’d wrap her arms around his shoulders as he pressed the side of his face to her stomach, engulfing him in her light, righting his sins, making him holy and whole.

But for now, Derek needed to make Jessie see. He needed to keep her in the dark for just a while longer.

He needed to bring this Hank to life.

> I can be very, very good.

> Let me show you...Derek's phone pinged from the pillow beside his head, and his tense body reacted to the sound with a startled jerk. “Shit!”

He palmed his phone in his hand, and his pulse pounded in his throat when he saw the sound was a notification from Fish.

“It worked,” he breathed, looking at the message alerting him that an A.A. Bev had swiped right on him, too. “Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself, scrambling to sit up and lean against his headboard, “stay cool.”

His right hand shook as he tapped Jessie’s profile - the little green dot showing she was active online - and began composing a message. It took about forty seconds for him to decide to go with Hi.

Immediately, his phone pinged with her reply.

> Hello.

> How are you?

Derek cursed under his breath at his ineptitude. Why couldn’t he sound intriguing instead of like a high schooler?

> I’m fine and you?

Derek took a deep breath. This wasn’t him; this was Hank - and Hank could do all the things Derek wasn’t brave enough, cool enough, confident enough, or comfortable enough to ever do. Exhaling slowly and willing his pounding heart to settle down, Derek replied.

> Better now.

His phone was quiet for a full minute, sending Derek’s blood pressure skyrocketing once again before Jessie’s reply came through.

> That’s bold of you.

> Why pretend I didn’t want you to contact me when I’ve been sitting here thinking about you for an hour?

Derek hit send on the message and cringed, squinting his eyes, wondering if he’d just killed all possibility of hope with this absurd plan. After another agonizing minute, a reply appeared on his screen.

> And what exactly did you like about my profile? 

> Besides your pic, you mean?

Derek wondered if this was flirting. If it was, he was simultaneously in awe over the tingling feeling deep in his gut - more like a flock of geese than butterflies - and hating how his palms were sweating and how he felt almost lightheaded.

> Don’t judge a book by its cover and all that.

 He huffed a laugh. Fuck it, he thought to himself. Hank Johnson had something to say about that. 

> Didn’t you?

> What was it about me that caught your attention?

> I’m sure it wasn’t my obvious good looks.

> Your pic was a little... mysterious.

> And you like that? 

> OK. I’ll answer honestly.

> I liked your chest.

> Your turn.

Derek inhaled. 

> I like your smile.

> Your mouth.

Again, Derek waited, not breathing, not moving an inch. Was he being a vile pervert? Would he scare Jessie away and ruin any chance he had of ever finding himself closer to her? Finally, after a full eighty-four seconds (he counted), Jessie’s reply pinged his phone.

> Tell me more about yourself, mysterious Hank.

A grin stretched wide across his face, and Derek settled back onto his headboard, finally feeling like he’d been granted some permission for which he’d never truly asked. He started typing line after line, little snippets about himself - all true - just things he never had the guts to share in his real life.

He told Jessie that Hank was an only child and grew up independently. His parents divorced when he was young, and shortly after, his father died in a car accident. He told her he worked in insurance and traveled a lot, which he most definitely did not, but he hoped the white lie would steer Jessie away from asking too much about his profession. He admitted he was often lonely and spent a disproportionate amount of his time at the gym simply because he had nothing better to do - and no one to do it with.

Jessie shared things about herself in return, and Derek was surprised to realize most of what she messaged him were things he already knew about her from their real-life interaction at work over the last couple of years. He’d known from a casual conversation that Jessie, too, was an only child. But Derek hadn’t known she was a product of an unfortunate youth spent in orphanages and foster homes until she became emancipated at age seventeen.

The thought of sweet, smart, lively Jessie spending all those years alone and suffering made something deep within his ribcage ache, made his heart race with bursts of anger toward the injustice of it all. His fingers whipped across his phone screen, and for a moment, he didn’t know if it was Hank or Derek typing a reply.

> You’re not alone.

> Neither are you.

Jessie’s reply came moments later, along with a picture of what he knew had to be her hand in her lap, palm upturned in silent question as if waiting for him to hold it.

Derek groaned.

There was no other word for it - a sound from deep in the back of his throat filled with longing, need, relief, and heartbreak all at once.

His fingers ached to slide against hers and touch that warm, soft skin he felt through his dress shirt that morning. He squeezed his palm into a fist, wishing to feel something other than empty air and his bones and tendons.

He wanted to prove how much he wanted her, how amazing she’d made him feel with those three simple words. And though he’d started this whole thing as brave Hank, all Derek desperately wanted was to give something of himself, something that would make Jessie feel safe and wanted, the way the picture of her hand had made him feel.

> Can I send you a picture?

> Yes!

Derek smiled at her timid reply. He was certain she expected a dick pic to come through the app at any moment. Instead, he searched on his phone and sent a zoomed-in image of the near-touching hands of Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam painting, hoping it conveyed what he was trying to communicate.

> Oh!

When Jessie replied, Derek wasn’t sure he’d been successful. Her single word left him scrambling, trying to backtrack and return to the easy chat and banter from before.

> Sorry if that was too much; it made me think of that.

> Anyway, never mind.

> No! Sorry, no, it wasn’t too much.

> It was beautiful.

Like you, Derek thought.

> Glad you liked it.

> So I need to ask you something.

> Okay…

> It’s really deep and personal, fair warning.

> Okay…

> What does A.A. stand for?

> LOL!

> Oh my gosh, you really had me nervous there.

> Well, your boy Hank wants to know who he just held hands with.

> That’s a lot for a first date, you know.

> First date? You’re cute.

Derek blushed as he replied, pushing again to see if Jessie would reveal her name.

> And you’re only initials.

> Tell me your name, pretty girl.

> You know already.

Fuck.

Where did Derek screw up? How had Jessie figured him out so quickly? He was so, so dead. Derek sat with his phone in his right hand, his left angrily shoving stray locks of hair that had fallen out of the tie-back at the top of his head. He started sweating again, his hand finally settling over the thin seam of his lips as he stared at the phone and waited for whatever horrible thing was coming next.

But it never came.

Instead, another message appeared after an interminably long moment.

> My name is Jessie. I use the initials to keep some semblance of privacy.

Derek’s hand dropped from his mouth as he huffed out an enormous sigh, his body sagging and his eyes closing in utter relief.

> Jessie.

> I like it. Little sunshine.

> I don’t know about that…

> I do.

> I’m already happier in the last hour chatting with you than I’ve been in months.

> Maybe years.

> That’s… another wow!

> Send me another picture of yourself.

> Not your hands.

> Wow me!

> If you’re a good boy, maybe I will...

Goddamn, if that didn’t make Derek’s cock hard. She was killing him slowly. Just the thought of Jessie even considering sending him another picture was almost more than Derek could handle.

Derek had spent months fantasizing about how he could get Jessie to ever talk to him like this, to see him differently, and here he was mere hours after creating his alter ego, and it was perfect. He bit the corner of his lip, debating whether he should reply with the thought that just came to mind. Would it scare her off once and for all? Or could Hank Johnson help show her just what Derek was capable of?

Jessie was perfect. His plan, though far from perfect and poorly crafted in its planning phase, was working with the engineering precision he was accustomed to. Somehow, he’d figure it out. He’d think about it and devise a way to tell Jessie the truth and make it right.

Some day, he’d fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. She’d wrap her arms around his shoulders as he pressed the side of his face to her stomach, engulfing him in her light, righting his sins, making him holy and whole.

But for now, Derek needed to make Jessie see. He needed to keep her in the dark for just a while longer.

He needed to bring this Hank to life.

> I can be very, very good.

> Let me show you...

Jessie stared at her phone, her jaw hanging open in disbelief. At dinner earlier, she’d been resigned to probably spending the rest of her life alone. She’d already Googled cats up for adoption at the local shelter because she’d been fairly convinced after her talk with Paige that she’d be one of those career women who eventually turned into an old cat lady. And that was okay.

Mostly.

Despite the deep ache she felt at the thought of it, Jessie knew she’d rather be alone than with the wrong guy. Her last few boyfriends had all but ruined Jessie’s concept of healthy relationships and love… between Dennis cheating on her this summer and the Compulsive Liar Liam before him, she was just tired of feeling cheap and used.

What she wanted - what she dreamed about when she let her mind wander to that magical imagined future where she had a loving husband, a cozy home, maybe a kid or two running around - was someone who would simply stand by her side. When she was feeling small, Dream Husband would bolster her. When she felt lost in the dark, he’d be right there, a shadow beside her.

Dream Husband would care about her deeply intense, obvious, and unashamed of his passion.

And he’d simply know her.

So though she’d been reluctant to set up a profile on Fish, she figured at least she could put herself out there in a controlled environment and really decide if she was interested in pursuing anyone after giving herself time and space for thoughtful consideration.

There was absolutely no thoughtful consideration happening right now.

> Let me show you...

Jesus, Jessie told herself that it’s hot in here.

Jessie pawed at her shirt and started undoing the buttons, stripping down to her white tank top. She was flushed from her chest upward; she wouldn’t be surprised if the ends of her hair were blushing too.

Not after the way this man was talking to her.

This Hank was completely unfiltered in his conversation, but Jessie felt like every word he shared was brutally honest. It’s like he had no pretense; he didn’t tip-toe around her feelings or say things she thought he thought she wanted to hear. He seemed intense and decisive; a man who knew what he wanted, and was not shy to ask for it. And Jessie felt he wanted her.

Jessie felt wanted.

And that was maybe the sexiest thing of all about Hank.

So with only the tiniest reservation from the part of her brain who watched and questioned what the hell Jessie thought she was doing engaging in this kind of talk with a virtual stranger, she typed her reply.

> Show me.

> Whatever you want to show me.

She dug her teeth into her bottom lip and waited.

What came through next on the app wasn’t at all what Jessie expected. She’d been bracing herself for a picture of him, maybe something a little risky. Hell, maybe something a LOT dirty. Either way, when she’d told him he could show her, she kind of thought he’d show her… something.

Her cell phone screen lit up with a zoomed-in image of a man’s large hands palming the globe of a woman’s rear, the material of a tiny white thong threading between the pointer and finger of his right hand in a strangely possessive, gentle caress.

“Oh,” Jessie gasped, the shock of it all - the image, the boldness of him having sent it, the surprise of it not being a tasteless shove of the camera down his pants - leaving her a puddle of speechless drool. The picture he’d sent was so honest it made Jessie feel like she could spare to let her guard down a little more, too.

She exhaled slowly as she typed a reply.

> Well, that was not what I was expecting.

Hank’s reply came back immediately.

> I want to know you.

> What you like, what turns you on.

> And then you’ll know the things I’m thinking about doing with you.

Jessie shot up from the couch, dropping her phone on the table behind her.

“Holy shit,” she muttered on her way to the kitchen to get herself a tall glass of water. Freezing cold, to be precise, because she felt like she would spontaneously combust at any moment. She needed to hydrate, to cool down, to… to... something for God’s sake, besides stripping naked and jumping into a cold shower.

Jessie filled her glass and gulped it down, but her hasty, shaking hand sent a small dribble of water down her chin. The spill slid down her neck, a tiny cold pool settling at the notch of her collarbone.

“Damn it,” she mumbled, reaching for a paper towel to clean up her sloppiness, but as she moved, the droplets slid from her collarbone straight beneath the top seam of her tank top, the chilly liquid coming to a stop on the flesh of her left tit. As she stared down at the damp spot seeping through her top, her nipples stiffened into strained peaks, pressed angrily against her tank top.

Slowly, Jessie set the glass back down on the counter. Her heart smacked against her rib cage, wild and wicked with the crazy idea that just flitted into her brain. She pivoted on her heel and walked back to the living room in a daze, her breath coming in rapid puffs, the heat of each exhale ghosting over the damp trail of water still on her neck. A shiver rolled through her body at the stark contrast between the chilly wet spot on her bosom and her warm, damp of breath.

Retrieving her phone, Jessie sat down on the couch and opened up her camera app, switching it to the front facing lens.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” she huffed, digging her top teeth into her bottom lip, steeling her nerve.

Jessie aimed the lens down to catch the bottom of her chin, making the angle such that her neck and chest were visible on the screen, the lamplight caught the wetness lingering along the column of her neck; her left nipple clearly showing her arousal beneath her shirt. She took the picture and quickly edited it to be black and white to match the style of photo Hank had sent her, then attached it to her chat window and pressed send before she could change her mind.

Though Jessie knew the picture, he’d sent was a public domain photo of some sort, she wondered if he would realize the image she’d shared was of herself and not an internet photo. Jessie’s emotions waffled between hoping he’d immediately guess the photo was of her own body and praying to any deity that would listen that he’d never suspect her to take such a brazen action mere hours after connecting with him, for all intents and purposes, a virtual stranger.

Time moved in slow motion as Jessie waited for Hank’s reaction. In reality, the man’s reply came within seconds, and with it, a rush of desire coiled deep in her belly, an electric thrill running along her spine as she read his words.

> You’re even more amazing than I imagined.

Jessie’s eyelids slipped closed, her breath leaving her body in a relieved exhale. Her reaction made her realize she’d secretly been hoping he’d know it was a selfie - that he’d intuitively recognize her form - that he’d know her.

She typed a reply, again biting her lip to fight the wild grin tugging at her lips.

> Quite the compliment, Hank.

> Only the truth, Jessie.

Warmth flooded her chest, and Jessie couldn’t feel the wet spot on her shirt anymore. It was probably long gone, turned to steamy vapors minutes ago. As she stared down at her phone, her eye drifted and caught the timestamp at the top of the screen and she groaned.

It was well after midnight. How had hours passed already? Jessie was loathe to end their chat. She had an irrational fear that she was Cinderella in this scenario, about to run off after the ball, her prince lost once the magic of the moment had passed. But the morning would come quickly, and she and Derek had agreed to meet at seven to go over the schematics and the redesigned circuit board for their project.