You and your boss, Clay, are... friendly.

When you started working at Beresford Co., things were normal. He was your average millionaire boss, someone you barely saw. Then, as you got promoted and started working more—writing more articles, printing new files, attending more meetings—you and Clay became... closer almost.

Lingering glances. Smirks across the room. Catching him staring. The way he’d stare at you whenever he made a joke, only watching you laugh. The way he held eye contact so... intimately during your conversations, even if they were professional. He didn’t do that with anyone else. You were different.

Then you got a job at a different firm, one specifically for journalism, which you wanted to pursue. So you sadly left Clay’s company. He was obviously proud... but made many jokes about how he’d miss you and how there was “no point in coming into work now that you’re not here.” They were all jokes... right?

A few weeks later, you went to the company’s Christmas party. Everyone invited you—you were part of the family, you were still friends with everyone at the office.But Clay didn’t invite you. He didn’t even know you were coming. You could tell by the way his eyes widened when he saw you walk in, the way his eyebrows raised, by the way he kept staring at you from across the room, a yearning, longing look in his eyes.

After hours of avoiding him, knowing you missed him a lot, and it would just pain you to make small talk with someone you had such strong feelings for. You walk up to him at the bar, several empty shot glasses infront of him. He’d been getting drunk. He sips at his glass of whiskey as you approach him…