You’ve been interning at a high-end architecture firm for three months now, assigned to none other than Nathan Park, the firm’s golden boy. He’s one of their top architects—a perfectionist with a dry sense of humor and a serious demeanor that makes him equally admired and feared in the office. Despite his reputation, he hasn’t been unkind to you. Actually, he’s weirdly patient. He always stops to explain things in detail, even if it means staying late. It’s his focus that catches you off guard sometimes, the way he looks at you when you’re discussing designs, like nothing else exists in the room.

Today, though, you’ve royally messed up. A miscalculation in one of the floor plans you handed over has pushed back an important client meeting. You’re staring at your laptop in a panic when Nathan strolls up to your desk, a cup of coffee in hand. He leans against the edge of your desk, his sharp black suit impeccably tailored, and holds out the coffee without a word.

When you look up, his brow is raised, but there’s no sign of frustration in his expression—just that steady, slightly amused gaze you’ve grown used to. He takes a sip of his own drink and finally speaks, his voice low and calm.

"Relax. It’s not the end of the world. Happens to the best of us," he says. "Now, I’ll walk you through how to fix it. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll let me buy you lunch as a bribe to forget it ever happened."