Large signs advise of the construction company that is developing at this location and a collection of small buildings greets us–portable office cabins, trailers, and then there is a two-story cottage that is rising from the ground with a few similar buildings in the near vicinity, all at different stages of development. Parking at a large lot, Dylan shoulders one of the bags from the back of the truck as we make our way towards several outbuildings scattered over a large clearing.

"We are building cottages and houses throughout the area of Mirror Lake. The expansion is planned to be completed by next summer. This area of the state is known as being one of the Crown Jewels of Alaskan tourism, close enough to Anchorage for easy access but rugged enough for even seasoned outdoor enthusiasts. I'll give you a quick tour to start and you'll come on patrol with me later too."

Dylan's grim expression doesn't waver as he leads me further into the construction site.

"Lawrence!" He shouts and a man in the distance waves in greeting. "Go to my truck and get the rest of the supplies, I just picked up the order from the town office."

"Sure thing, boss." The man instantly drops what he's doing to get the supplies and Dylan continues his tour.

"Toilets," he points to a few small portable toilets. "My office trailer, and the break tent behind. When it is a nice, warm day we have lunch on the benches in that area over there by the lakefront." We walk past some kind of tools and equipment station and Dylan drops the bag he was carrying and picks up two hard hats. I realize now that maybe I should've offered to bring a bag too. Am I failing this already?

"Put this on. If I see you without one you won't be having fun. And I'm sure there's a pair of spare boots in the break room until Janet orders you new ones."

A few more guys raise their hands in greeting, a few mornings, and hellos as we pass by.

"You will be working with me on this project here. There are five other guys, depending on the day and the part we are working on. Sometimes it's all of us, sometimes less. Currently, we are doing plumbing, that is something that is Simon's responsibility." He points to the man who is currently setting up his workstation, and the man in his fifties waves at me.

"Come this way," Dylan turns the corner and I follow. We end up on the beautiful back porch that is not a porch yet but the outlines are there. I am staring at the perfect place among the tall trees with a wide view of the lake in the near distance. Everything here is like painting, picture-perfect literally.

"While the plumbing is being installed, you will be finishing the wooden floor of the deck." He goes around the pile of wood boards and tools sitting next to it. He puts the gloves on and then starts setting up some type of electrical tool. I approach and start taking everything in.

But my instructor is not slowing down. And is far too distracting. He left his thick jacket in the truck so I can see his arms and shoulders straining with the movements. There are paint stains on the wide-leg work pants he is wearing and dirt on his boots and there's something so attractive about a hard-working man operating a machine like this. It's about all I can do to stand here beside him, smelling the scent of whatever deodorant he wears, and maintain my composure as he explains the task to me.

"Noah."

I startle.

"Are you ok?" He asks slowly, in an irritated way, a way that tells me I missed his words the first time, too busy gawking at him.

I clear my voice. It is the first time I hear him say my name. Something about the shape of it in his mouth sounded different than how I heard it every other day. "Yes? Sorry."

"Okay, so, you've never worked on a construction site before, correct?" he asks, squinting against the early morning sun.

"No, sir."

There's an unexpected chuckle that comes from him. For the first time since I'd met him today, he smiles. "Please, don't call me sir. Just Dylan is fine."

"Ok, I can do that." I relish in that small victory, I made Dylan smile. "I never worked anywhere similar. I've bartended. Did some odd jobs here and there."

"Right. You don't need a degree or experience to do this, ok? But it is a hard job, lots of physical work."

"I'm sure I can handle it," I say defensively."I'm a bit out of shape now but I used to go to the gym regularly. And I played football in high school."

Dylan scoffs. "And when was that, last year?"

I hate that I look younger than my age. "I will be twenty-three in January. I'm not a kid."

"So twenty-two..."

I don't know why he's so fixated on my age. He doesn't even look that older, maybe late twenties early thirties. And I saw a few guys around the site that definitely looked around my age. I feel like Dylan is judging every single thing about me. And I hate that I can't say anything back. I've always been able to defend myself verbally, I wasn't a pushover either. In my old world you had to be made of steel in order to survive. But in this world it feels like I'm made of glass and I'm going to shatter into pieces any second.

"Stand here next to me and watch what I'm doing. Firstly, you'll learn how to use this machine then I'll show you exactly how to do the porch."

And so it begins. Plywood, polystyrene insulation, trusses, log screws, 2x4's. Dust everywhere. A cacophony of noise made by polishing machines, drilling, hammering, knocking. And the day goes by in a blur of it all. My muscles are sore and my clothes are soaked with sweat. Dylan comes and goes, looking at my progress, silently judging me.

But I keep on going. I finish cutting a plank into size and slot it onto the decking, making sure the edges line up perfectly. I continue hammering a nail into a piece of wood, securing it into place.

As I stick my hand into a box of nails, grabbing for another bolt of metal to hammer into place I'm completely unaware of anything around me anymore, wanting for this day to end. All of a sudden, there is Dylan's looming figure looking down at me, where I'm on my knees just about to hammer another nail.

His gaze roams over me, heating each place it touches. My cheeks flame as I realize the position in which we found ourselves and what it does to my body. With his boot he kicks the tub of nails making it rattle.

"You missed a nail. Again."

________