I thought I had gotten away with not celebrating my birthday at work. I'd quietly celebrated twenty-five trips around the sun on Tuesday, and spent the rest of the week thinking I'd spared myself the awkwardness of having to socialize with people who barely knew anything about me—specifically that I didn't enjoy participating in my own elaborate birthday festivities.

I didn't have anything against my birthday or birthdays in general, but the thing about having to celebrate my birthday was that it threw me into the limelight, and I'd learned that I didn't enjoy the limelight. It made me itchy and slightly claustrophobic—which were two things I never wanted to be whilst in the company of my coworkers.

I wanted to believe that my affinity to stay out of the limelight was part of what made me a good speechwriter. It wasn't my job to be the center of attention, but rather to create it for someone else.

Someone who had that natural gravitas.

Someone like Cassandra Symons.

But on Friday when I was packing up my desk for the weekend, Emelia cornered me at my cubicle to inform me that she'd rallied some of the senior campaign staffers to celebrate my birthday after work. Persuading the junior members was one thing, but getting someone like Tag Bradley to devote his precious time to sharing a few drinks with his subordinates was another.  

It was for this reason that I couldn't say no thank you, I don't like celebrating my birthday.

But what I could do was get respectfully intoxicated because the birthday girl wasn't allowed to pay for her own drinks.

Unsurprisingly, Emelia had reserved a few tables for our colleagues and had extended my birthday invitation to her two Notre Dame boys. The one who I had a blind first date with was currently the only one present.

"I'm still torn between two themes for my classroom this year. It's between outer space or or the great outdoors," Jed explained with a sweeping gesture as if I could see his vision.

"My vote is for the latter," I said and took a sip of my G&T.

Jed grew uncharacteristically serious, his brow furrowing together. "I know politics is your wheelhouse Kiernan, but my classroom is not a democracy. Third graders are instinctively anarchists."

I scoffed out a laugh. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to find Jed amusingly wholesome. "I said my vote. You're free to disregard it, of course. I have no vested interest in your classroom aesthetic."

"I guess I could poll Em and Montana, and then–"

Emelia suddenly materialized between us, setting a hand on Jed's broad shoulder. "Can you queue some songs on the jukebox? What I have vested interest in is making tonight fun for Kiernan." She then slid me a sly grin, indicating she'd caught the end of my conversation with Jed.

Jed nodded dutifully before turning to me. "Any requests?"

"Something fun to dance to," I replied.

While Jed embarked on his nobel quest to the jukebox, Em and I headed over to the bar to chat with some of the other junior staffers. Otto, one of the other speech writers, noted my nearly empty glass, and swiftly procured me another drink. Given the extortionate price of drinks in the city, I didn't dare complain, and happily discussed the latest polling numbers with them.

"I'm gonna go refresh my makeup before we head off to the next place," Emelia told me as we made our way back to one of the high-top tables.

"Please don't," I groaned. "Your makeup looks perfect, and now you've reminded me that I haven't touched mine up since this morning."

Em booped me on the nose and grinned. "The birthday girl doesn't need to touch up her make-up."

I waved her off.

Before I could rejoin the rest of my colleagues, I stopped short when I noticed that Jed had newfound company at the jukebox.

It was Montana Bennett.

I hadn't seen him come in, not that I'd kept a sharp eye on at the entrance.

I shamelessly appreciated what I assumed was his dressed-down casual Friday attire. His perfectly tailored navy suit lacked the tie, and he had undone the top two buttons of his white shirt. I wasn't dialed into men's fashion, but I could tell this was one of those high-end suits designed to be breathable in the summer heat.

As if he felt me looking, Montana turned to meet my gaze. The bar was busy enough that it felt like he had to look through the crowd to find me, but he'd done so with such ease and precision.

I ignored my internal screaming and threw him a delicate wave, then waited for him and Jed to join me at the open high top table that I'd happened to stop beside.

"I queued Hot N Cold by Katy Perry," Jed informed me with a proud grin. "Seemed like something fun to dance to."

I chuckled, eager to relieve some of the tension in my shoulders. "Great, I've been wanting to relive my freshman year homecoming dance. This is exactly how I envisioned celebrating my 25th birthday in Chicago." 

There was a momentary lull in our conversation, so I easily noted the way Jed's eyes darted between Montana and I almost expectantly. 

"I'm gonna go see if the bar has any spare oranges," he blurted out.

"Oranges?" Montana scoffed, arching a singular brow. "Are you a youth soccer player?"

"You know I get dehydrated easily!" Jed called out over his shoulder, already making his way to the bar.

"I'm dehydrated too, get me an old fashioned!" Montana turned his attention back to me, and a soft smile graced his lips. "Even though I texted you on the actual day, I figure I should still wish you happy birthday, Kiernan."

"Thank you." I stepped closer to him, filling the space Jed had vacated. "I wasn't sure if you were going to show up."

"I made sure that I could be spared this fine Friday evening."

I gave him a closed-lipped smile as I regarded him for a moment, trying to decipher what emotions underpinned his casual tone. If I used his eyes as a guide, I believed it to be sincerity, with maybe a hint of seduction.

Wanting to test the waters, I offered him my G&T. "For your hydration."

Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt when he took the glass from my hand, all the while never breaking his gaze from mine as he lifted the glass to his lips. By the time he handed it back to me, the heat pooling in my stomach made me feel like I was about to burn at the stake. It didn't help that in the dim light of the bar, Montana's eyes were like two blue flames.

"Refreshing, thanks."

As he handed the glass back to me, I pretended not to notice the way he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. He then took in an audible breath, almost as if he was readying himself to say something, when the subtle Texan accent sailed over the music and idle conversation of the bar.

"We need to talk shop," Tag stated, setting his scotch down on the table with authority.

I jolted slightly as my brain did a 180, recalibrating to interact with my god damn boss.

"Right now?" I asked through a strained smile. 

Beside me, Montana rested a forearm on the table and appeared to be assessing Tag top-to-bottom. His expression displayed the faintest hint of annoyance at Tag's abrupt arrival.

"When I say we need to talk shop, I don't offer up appointment times to my junior staff," Tag said.

"I only clarified because I can barely hear you." I set my glass down, then then shot a glance at Montana, who'd masked whatever annoyance he'd let himself show moments earlier.

He glanced over his shoulder and jabbed a thumb towards the bar. "I'm uh...I'm gonna go retrieve my drink from Jed. I think he's holding it hostage."

I simply nodded, not trusting myself to vocalize a neutral response in front of Tag. But as Montana left, he made a costly mistake—he patted my shoulder, and didn't bother hiding his grimace as he walked past Tag.

With my mouth slightly ajar, I turned back to Tag to see him pick up his glass and feign applause by tapping the side of it with his free hand. He also wore the kind of conniving smile that my dad would use when he told my high school boyfriend that I had a curfew.

"God, help me," I muttered into my glass and took a generous sip.

I shouldn't be surprised that the first time that Montana and I were tragically unsubtle about whatever was building between us, my boss had to witness it. Sometimes, I felt like a supporting character in Tag's epic political endeavors, whose primary job was to offer witty one-liners and feminist commentary.

Tag shot a glance over his shoulder at Montana's retreating form and turned back to me with resigned suspicion in his eyes. "What Tom Petty song is this?"

"This is Katy Perry."

"Not on the speakers."

I scowled, realizing that Tag was talking about Montana and myself, but willed myself to remain some shred of professional grace. "Well, it's not American Girl."

"You've got a good head on your shoulders, Kiernan," Tag said, his voice taking on a gentle paternal edge that I might've found jarring if I didn't have as good of a working relationship with him. "You don't need to worry about letting anyone else's ambitions outshining your own."

Words evaded me for a moment while I absorbed the weight of his words. The final chorus Hot N Cold was playing from the speakers, and I swore I could hear Jed singing from somewhere behind me.

Despite Tag's inconvenient arrival during my conversation with Montana, I knew I couldn't take my relationship with him for granted. To have a mentor as revered as Tag in professional politics would go a long way, and his advice wasn't something I would brush off.

"I appreciate your age-old wisdom," I finally replied, rolling back my shoulders. "So what's this shop talk then?"

Tag shook his head. "There's no shop talk, Kiernan. Just thought I'd make things interesting." He set his empty glass down on the table as I gawked at him. "Happy birthday. You're going to do big things in life, kid."

"I know," I replied and lifted my glass to him.

Tag sent me one last all-too-informed glance before heading towards the door.

Before I turned away, I felt an arm drape around my shoulders. I didn't need to second-guess who it was. I'd also started to recognize his cologne.

"Looks like you're done scheming," Montana said with a chuckle. "And for the record, I happen to like Tom Petty."

I didn't know what was more embarrassing: having my boss know I was flirting with a guy, or the guy in question knowing my boss knew.

Thankfully, I had enough alcohol in my system to table the thought, and reestablish my savvy persona.

"My boss is a wise ass." As I turned to face Montana, I slid a hand underneath his jacket to settle around his waist. There was something thrilling about having him this close. "He wasn't actually talking about Tom Petty."

"Kiernan Grey," he spoke into my ear, "you underestimate my deductive reasoning skills."

That same heat I'd felt earlier returned to my stomach as I smiled at his words and at him. There was something almost vulnerable about smiling in the way I was because in doing so, I was outwardly acknowledging the effect he had on me.

And maybe I would've been okay with that if I didn't see Emelia and Jed swaying to an upbeat indie song from over Montana's shoulder. They weren't paying us any mind, and while I knew I wasn't under surveillance of any kind, I couldn't shake the feeling that what I was doing would perhaps draw attention if seen.

I cleared my throat as I unwound myself from Montana and tilted my head in the general direction of my colleagues. "Let's go make nice for a while. It would be rude of me not to."

Montana's lips pressed into another grimace. "Is that really what you want to do?"

"For now." I then pivoted away from him and rejoined my birthday celebration.

The evening accelerated. After another round of drinks, Emelia corralled the remaining group and led us to a wine bar closer to the river. Everyone who came from the campaign was part of the junior staff, so we happily dropped the natural formalities that came along with drinking with your superiors, and ordered a round of tequila shots when we arrived.

"Remember the campaign in Chicago when you write your memoir," Emelia said as she lifted her shot glass to me. "Happy birthday, K!"

I chuckled as I picked up my own, careful not to spill a single drop. "Thank you, and how could I ever forget?"

Jed spoke up, "Well, if you keep taking more tequila shots-"

Montana flicked the back of his head. "Shut up."

We threw back our shots.

And then we threw back some more.

This was the first birthday celebration that I'd spent without my family or friends from Yale. I'd also spent my actual birthday on Tuesday at the office and then at an evening  fundraiser on the North Shore, so I didn't have the time or energy to dwell on what I could've been doing if I wasn't in Chicago.

However, now that Emelia had forced me to celebrate it, I am stunned to discover just 

how content I was to be with the people I'd met since moving to the city earlier in the summer. It almost made me wish that I didn't need to leave before the end of the year.

I was dancing to Voulez-Vous with Emelia and Otto when my phone lit up with a call from Ines. Knowing I wouldn't be able to hear her while on the dance floor, I picked up and made my way outside. The dull ringing in my ears distorted my hearing, making the scattered conversations and the buzz of traffic seemed to swirl together.

But then Ines's sharp voice secured my attention, making me feel like I'd just emerged from underwater. "Why are you listening to ABBA?"

"I'm not. I mean, I was. I'm outside now." I switched on my camera to smile at my sister when I reached the concrete balustrade that overlooked the river, and Ines did the same. "Emelia got some of our coworkers to celebrate my birthday. Montana's also here...I don't think he could look any better in a suit."

A wistful voice in my head wondered if he'd showed up with the intention of looking as good as he did. That this wasn't just how he happened to look when he went to work on a Friday.

Ines's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "Then why the hell are you talking to me? Go back inside, Kiernan! Go and...you know...seal the deal." She winked at me.

I shook my head to ward off the visuals that my sister's words had conjured. They were the opposite of unpleasant, but they were a little too distracting.

"There's a time and place for these...things," I said, hoping I sounded serious. "I can't just waltz up to him to tell them that maybe it wouldn't be totally crazy for the two of us to go out sometime. Just the two of us."

I was slightly out of breath, which was embarrassing for someone who considered herself to have great endurance. I averted my gaze from my phone and looked down at the river. The street lights reflecting on the surface seemed to spin like miniature disco balls.

"For someone who writes about complicated things in a straightforward way for a living, you're making zero sense."

My gaze snapped back to my phone screen, and I narrowed my eyes upon registering Ines's expression of comical disbelief. "It's the tequila shots, not me."

She laughed. "I'm hanging up now, Kiernan. Enjoy your night, and text me when you make it home...or to another final destination."

All I could do was chuckle and hope the evening light hid the rush of color into my face.

After we exchanged I love yous and hung up, I stared at my reflection on the dark screen. Despite having had my makeup on for far too long, I still looked somewhat polished and not like I'd been awake since six in the morning. Thank you, Charlotte Tilbury.

"Are you good? Not having your quarter-life crisis already, are you?" Montana asked.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Montana in all his designer suit glory, and smiled softly as he joined me at the railing. He held the rim of his glass with his fingertips, and his grip looked so loose that I half-expected it to slip and shatter onto the pavement.

"My sister FaceTimed me." I nodded to my phone as I slipped it into my bag. "She didn't know I was going out...but to be fair, neither did I until close of business."

"That's nice, but you haven't answered my question." Montana placed his nearly empty glass onto the railing and leaned onto his forearms.

I arched an eyebrow. "I believe you asked two." 

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "Okay, fair. But seriously, are you good? I haven't seen anyone handle tequila shots like that in a long time."

"I don't know if handle is the word I'd use, but I'm good, thank you." I leaned forward to look down at the river, and my depth perception became slightly skewed. "Though if this railing wasn't here, I'd probably fall into the river."

"Don't worry, I'd catch you." He brought a hand to my shoulder and gently guided me upright. "But looking down is not helping your cause here."

As we came to face each other, I tried and failed to glare at him.

Dusk had yet to settle over the city and everything seemed more blue. The reflection of the sky on the glass of the surrounding buildings. The river. His eyes.

"Then where should I be looking, Montana?"

He held my gaze, gesturing to his face with a ring-clad finger. "Right here is fine. My presence tonight is your birthday gift, after all."

"I'm not big on gifts." I tilted my head slightly as I offered him a coy smile. "Birthdays are more about experiences, right?"

He gave me an overly nonchalant shrug. "I suppose I could get behind that idea."

"In what capacity?" I edged.

"Well it's your birthday, so you tell me."

"Kiss me," my voice sailed just above the hum of the night, the city alive around us. "It's for the experience."

That same ghost of a smirk returned to Montana's lips as he nodded. "Okay. Just uh...full disclosure, I haven't kissed anyone in a while, so I might be a little out of practice."

"Well, you know what they say, don't you? It's the thought that counts."

A soft breeze swept the front pieces of my hair into my face, and he lifted a hand to delicately tuck them behind my ear. His hand lingered on my cheek, and I wondered if he could feel the quickening rhythm of my pulse beneath his fingers when he moved it down to settle in the crook of my neck. "The only stipulation is that you have to close your eyes. For the experience."

In the little distance that remained between us, I took in the faded silvery scar across the bridge of his nose that faint freckles nearly obscured. Despite our repartee, there seemed to be something so intrinsically fragile about this moment. There was still a celebration going on inside, and at any given moment, someone could stumble outside and inadvertently shatter the intimacy that we'd finally surrendered ourselves to.

So I didn't dare protest, and I closed my eyes and waited.

I'd never been a very patient person. I knew what I wanted in my professional life, and never hesitated to pursue an opportunity that would bring me another step closer to being something and someone great.

That same mindset suddenly applied to this present moment of my life, in which the few seconds I spent waiting for Montana to kiss me tested the little patience I had, but I was willing to wait for something and someone great, too.

Montana was as gentle as I expected him to be when he finally brought his lips to mine. I brought my hands up to clutch the soft folds of his jacket, closing that last sliver of space between us.

Our kiss couldn't have lasted for more than a few moments, but when we separated I thought my breath had nearly left with him.

I wanted it back. I wanted him.

When I opened my eyes, I found Montana's centimeters from mine, and the glint in his gaze told me that whatever I'd felt in our kiss, he'd felt too.

"This next one isn't for the experience," I said, bringing one hand up to rest on the base of his neck. The clearness of my intention contrasted the softness of my voice.

His thumb stroked my cheek. "What is it about then?"

"The thrill."

Unlike our first kiss only moments ago, patience wasn't involved. Only adrenaline. I rocked up onto the toes of my loafers to kiss him, more firm and certain than he had before, but he returned the certainty this time.

My heartbeat accelerated as Montana's hands dropped to my waist, sending another surge of adrenaline through us both. And while I knew adrenaline itself never lasted, I still appreciated the rush.

･:*˚:✧｡｡✧:˚*:･

from sar [w1ldflow3r]: drop an emoji if you've been waiting for this since the start! 🤍

any predictions for what's to come?