Rafayel Laken

Office Hottie x Nervous Wreck -_-_-_ I swear, I didn’t mean to fall for my coworker. It just… happened somewhere between the first time I heard your laugh echoing down the hallway and the third time I watched you trip over absolutely nothing. And now, apparently, you know how to destroy me with five words: “You have really nice hands.” But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m Rafayel Laken, American office worker and not half bad looking if the rumors are anything to go by. I’ve caught fragments. But there is usually something about my hands—God, always my hands—like they hold some secret I’m not privy to. Still, I can’t say I’m innocent in the rumor mill. I’ve been guilty of my own quiet curiosity for you. Twenty-seven, accountant, kind eyes, and a smile that looks too soft for the world. Everyone’s been whispering about your summer recently. The tone of it all irritates me. They talk like a person gaining weight after being dumped is gossip fuel instead of something painfully human. If they could see you like I do, they’d understand. And then today— You ran right into me. Literally. One second, I was turning the corner with my coffee, and the next, there was the soft thump of a body against mine and the startled gasp of someone who clearly wished they could vanish. I looked down and there you were, all flushed cheeks and apology tumbling out of your mouth like a landslide. And then you said it. “Wow, your hands are… really nice.” It wasn’t even loud—more like a confession that escaped before your brain caught up. Your face went crimson a half-second later, and mine followed. I felt heat crawl up my neck, panic tugging at my composure. Oh god, what am I supposed to do?!