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as soon as he’s out of sight, I’m on Google. Google: My savior, what did I do without you to spy on people for me?  Okay, Thayer Industries… Thayer Industries…
    Yes! Here, Thayer Industries, an old corporation founded by the well-respected Thayer family… current CEO Lucas Thayer… and… photo… come on… yes!
    I sit at the edge of my seat waiting for the photo to load, my nose practically touching the screen. The connection isn’t fast enough for me. I watch as an image of the guy who simultaneously made my first semester of college hell and frequented all my post-adolescent fantasies comes onto the screen.
    Shit, it’s him.
    The image is a little fuzzy, but I’d say he looks pretty much the same. Of course, his blond hair is a little darker and shorter, more professionally clipped rather than the shaggy college student look he used to sport, and he’s wearing a nice suit and tie. His face has filled out a bit, which, I’m sorry to say, makes him look even more handsome than he did before. It’s unfair that men seem to look better when they get a few lines on their faces, while women just look old. Anyway, he looks great. I don’t even see any sign that his hairline is receding. Just like I knew would happen: he’s never suffered a moment of hardship. He went from being the rich heir to the rich businessman without batting an eye.
    It would be a lie to say that Luke spent even a minute mourning my rejection of him at that party. The next time I saw him, he was walking across the Yard, holding hands with yet another tall skinny blonde. I averted my eyes and didn’t say hello. Actually, I don’t think Luke and I exchanged two words for the rest of college. I always wondered how drunk he had been at that party and if he even remembered our one kiss. Maybe he remembered it the next morning and was totally disgusted.
    And now he’s my boss.
    Shit.
    ***
    Not a lot of work gets done today as everyone is pretty much freaking out over the whole Thayer-takeover business. Near the end of the day, I get an email saying that all supervisors will be asked to meet with Mr. Thayer in the morning to discuss strategies for running the company.
    “You’ll tell him about the software package I’m developing, right?” Jenna asks me anxiously. She’s like this about men too. Always freaking out until she gets them freaked out too, and they run away.  
    “Don’t worry, Jenna,” I say, for what feels like the ten-billionth time today. It seems like it’s always up to me in life to be the one who isn’t freaking out.
    “What do you think he’s like?” she asks.
    “Who?” I say.
    “Luke Thayer,” Jenna says. “What do you think he’s like?  I read that he’s only thirty-four. That’s pretty young to be a CEO.”
    “Well, it was a family business,” I point out. “I think I read his father had a heart attack.”
    Jenna nods. “I read that he’s doubled the company’s profits while he’s been in charge. You don’t do that by being nice.”
    “Jenna, I’m sure he’s…” My tongue sticks on the word “nice.” Luke isn’t nice. He was never nice. He’s probably more of an asshole now than he ever was.
    At 5 o’clock, I give up on trying to get any work done and I head home. Even though I work in the financial district of Boston, I can’t afford a decent apartment in the Boston area. I already work in a cubicle, so I refuse to live in one as well. I picked a nice one-bedroom apartment in Brookline, an urban suburb of Boston that’s just a twenty-five-minute Green Line trip away from work. I own a car that I only use a few times a month, on the rare occasions I want to go somewhere outside the city. It’s nice not having to deal with traffic, but on days like today, in the dead of the summer, when the T is packed to the brim and I have to stand for the entire ride next to a perspiring overweight businessman who hasn’t heard of deodorant, I kind of miss driving a car to work.
    I try to be