Chapter Text
Zoey Clarke is on the cusp of thirty when she comes to a realization.
It was something Mo had said the other day, she thinks, when she was camped out at the bar in the work-in-progress MaxiMo’s. He was complaining about “that hot fire marshal,” if Zoey remembers right, and then Max and Rose joined them and more drinks were served and she kind of forgets the rest.
But shit, what was the expression Mo used?
“D- do you want me to stop?” a voice pants into her neck.
Zoey can think of approximately a million other people she would rather have holding her up against the wall. And a million reasons for it to be anybody else. But she can also admit that stopping is the last thing she wants him to do right now. “God, no,” she breathes, shifting her thigh so that it’s over his hip, then hooking her leg behind his ass. So far the only complaints their height difference has ever caused are a) an ache in her neck from constantly glaring up at him and b) a pain in her ass from the fact alone that he exists and is way taller than her. But now Zoey has a third complaint to add: she has to bend her body in all these insane proportions in order to make this— whatever this is— work. And somehow, the arrangement actually feels super good. Damn him.
So he resumes his rhythm, maintaining impressive control over his speed as he braces himself against the wall with his head bent forward, occasionally pressing feverish (thoughtful?) kisses into her hair. Sandwiched between him and the wall of the meditation room, they both split the effort of holding Zoey up, which comes surprisingly easy in the midst of a powerful sex-fueled adrenaline rush.
“Faster,” she gasps. “I have—” He slips a hand down between them and focuses a couple fingers on the sensitive nerves screaming for attention, rudely interrupting her mid-demand. It makes a whispered swear whistle through Zoey’s teeth, but she still can’t stop herself from finishing her sentence. “— a budget meeting in, like, fifteen minutes. Fuck.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” he responds even though he’s already more than obliged to her request. They both, along with the entire planet, physically pause at that just to cringe.
“Never,” Zoey says, grasping for hair to grab onto (and very briefly wishing he hadn’t ditched the long locks years ago), “say that again, please.”
Her hand gains purchase and she pulls. A growl rolls off his tongue just before the words “I thought you were sick of my insubordination. I’m just trying to be respectful.”
“There’s being ‘respectful,’ and then there’s having a chance of seeing me naked again.” Whoever is talking right now certainly doesn’t sound like herself. What is happening to her? Where did Zoey Clarke go? “That’s two different things, bud.” Ah, there she is.
“So you’re saying this could happen again?” Of course that’s what he latches on to.
Luckily Zoey doesn’t have to answer that (and well, shit, hasn’t she already?) because right then he tumbles over the edge, and with one last annoyingly perfect twirl of his thumb, she follows. Before she can wriggle away and let the reality of what she’s done smack her in the face then point at her and laugh, he leans down and captures her lips in one last ferocious kiss. Then he finally lets her drop to the floor. She can barely breathe, and looking at his flushed complexion and the sweat-darkened blond curl flopping onto his forehead certainly doesn’t help, so she looks away and bends to pull her pants back into place. “Anyway, um, this was... great. A great— great... something.” Zoey gulps, still not looking directly at him as she straightens. “You can, uh...” She clicks her tongue, then thrusts out an arm and mimics a running away motion with two fingers.
Zoey picks up her shirt that’s been laying in a rumpled heap on the floor. Meanwhile, he starts singing— and that’s when she finally remembers the phrase Mo had spoken a few days prior.
“You know what they say— keep your friends close, and your enemies closer!”
Oh. Oh, no. What has she done? Zoey never meant to apply that idea to Leif Donnelly of all people, yet here she is.
You took my heart, and you held it in your mouth
And with a word, all my love came rushing out
Fuck this power. Zoey nibbles her lip while she yanks her sweater back on, irreparably wrinkled for the rest of the day. Leif copies her motion and shimmies into his own shirt, hands gliding over the buttons while he bemoans,
And every whisper, it’s the worst
Emptied out by a single word
There is a hollow in me now
Is it too much to ask for Zoey to be able to smooth out her blazer without being assaulted by a throaty ballad? Apparently so. Leif finishes buttoning his shirt and grabs his discarded tie from the floor next, dramatically tossing it over his shoulders and jerking the ends of it forward, making his neck snap in her direction. For the chorus, his voice grows more ragged, like he can barely keep a hold on the lyrics themselves.
So I’ll put my faith in something unknown
I’m living on such sweet nothing
But I’m tired of hope with nothing to hold
I’m living on such sweet nothing
Leif’s hands are a blur as he knots his tie then slides his belt back into place with a flourish. He swings away from her, body bent at a painful angle with his arms held close to his chest.
And it’s hard to learn, and it’s hard to love
When you’re giving me such sweet nothing
Sweet nothing, sweet nothing
You’re giving me such sweet nothing
There’s a short yet intense instrumental break, though instead of dancing along to it, Leif simply stands there with his arms hanging limply at his sides, staring imploringly at the wall above Zoey rather than directly at her. Then he slips into the next verse while his knees gradually sink closer to the floor.
It isn’t easy for me to let it go
‘Cause I’ve swallowed every single word
And every whisper, every sigh
Eats away at this heart of mine
And there is a hollow in me now
Now fully on the floor, Leif crawls over to Zoey on his hands and knees. She stares down at him, too shocked to move or utter a syllable as he raises his torso and clasps his hands in a pleading gesture, still on his knees at her feet. The visual stirs something within her that she isn’t sure she’s ready nor willing to confront.
And it’s not enough to tell me that you care
When we both know the words are empty air
You give me nothing
Nothing
“Leif,” Zoey squeaks the instant Zo-ality shifts back into reality. But somehow he’s already one step ahead of her.
“You really know how to—” Leif rakes a hand through his now thoroughly un-coiffed hair. “— how to suck somebody dry, don’t you, Zoey? I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know you’re like Joan in more ways than one.” With another sniff, he makes his way toward the door.
“Whoa, whoa, wait just a minute!” Zoey says. He pauses but doesn’t turn back. “Okay, so what I said might’ve sounded... I- I didn’t mean...” She gives up trying to find words and instead groans in frustration. “I don’t want to give you nothing, Leif. I just... it’s a really busy day for me and—”
A quiet hm leaves his lips. “Well, I’ve got a busy day too, so.” His fingers move to unlock the door, which produces a soft, telltale click. “Y’know how it is. My job used to be yours, after all, right?” After one last lukewarm wave, he pulls open the door and ducks out.
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Yet there Zoey stands in the empty meditation room, letting hers walk away.
With many failed dates and an affair with Joan under his belt, Leif is doing great.
Or, well, he was, until Zoey got promoted to the boss of the fourth floor a few months ago. Before that development, Leif had been going at a steady pace for a while, accepting any small lemons life handed to him and stomping them into somewhat palatable lemonade. Not a single day passed where he didn’t think about kissing his best friend or his boss, and that was perfectly fine. It was manageable.
Then Joan went off to Singapore (and looking at her face had reminded him of an entirely different trainwreck that may or may not have had a lot to do with him trying to move on from Zoey and Tobin and therefore diving head-first into an overcomplicated fling with a recently-divorced woman twenty years his senior, no big deal.) And Zoey advanced from a position Leif was already envious of to a position he outright coveted.
The upside to this is that Leif was able to secure Zoey’s old team manager job, something he’d been chasing for over a year. Still, that didn’t stop him from feeling like a second choice, nor from frequenting karaoke bars and getting stood up by an assortment of potential dates. And the dates that did follow through almost always went awry; for example, the most recent person ended the night early because he realized he’d had a brief thing with Tobin a few years ago and, quote, “I don’t wanna make this awkwarder than it already is.” He was out the door before Leif could comment under his breath that “awkwarder” isn’t technically a real word.
So that very same night, Leif marched his sulk parade over to MaxiMo’s. Probably not the wisest choice considering he was bound to see somebody he knew there, but fuck it. That friend of Zoey and Max’s really knows their way around a daiquiri. And, of course, it was there he ran into the one and only Zoey Clarke, who was also nursing her way through several drinks amid her own pity party.
She opened up to him about wrestling with grief— and that was only surprise number one. After another drink, she spilled some more relatable beans, telling him about her soured romances with Autumn (a barista from Golden Gate Grind who Leif recalled seeing around the office once or twice) and most recently, Simon. Leif had commiserated with her and, after one daiquiri too many, even admitted “So... I may have been meaning to say this for a while now, but... I guess you really do deserve to be floor boss more than anyone else. Since you followed in Danny’s footsteps with the whole song and dance thing.” (That day last year when Zoey had all those arbitrary musical performances is not a day that’s easy to forget. Leif has always assumed it was her unsubtle way of calling back to their orientation day, the one and only time he’s heard their CEO sing.)
And, well, that night... was last night. Leif and Zoey had parted on cool yet friendly terms, and Leif hoped they would both remember to forget the entire incident. Only Zoey did the opposite of forget... instead, she followed him into the meditation room during his midday internal screaming session, and she kissed him. Then her hand traveled down to his belt, and—
And now here Leif is, standing at his desk zoned out, still struggling to process what actually just transpired not thirty feet away from the bullpen and all of their coworkers.
He tries to zone back in at least fifty percent, only to hear McKenzie yell from her desk, “Hey, Tobin! What word should go before ‘phone’ to make it not suck?”
Tobin covers his ears with his hands and shoots back, “Not while I’m playing Stardew Valley, Kenz. But just for the record, the answer’s ‘Mega.’”
“Wrong,” McKenzie snaps. “Try ‘Micro.’”
“Try shutting up,” Yasmeen says, earning a hum of agreement from Cass.
“Bro,” Tobin whines, and Leif doesn’t have to turn around all the way to know he has fixed an imploring puppy dog gaze on him. “Help me out here!”
Leif sighs and rubs his temple, where he can feel the seed of a migraine has been planted. “McKenzie, apologize to Tobin—”
There’s an affronted gasp. “No way am I going to—”
“— and Tobin, apologize to McKenzie.” He pushes away from his desk and walks in between the pair’s laser glares. “Problem solved.”
There’s a stifled guffaw from Cass, while Yasmeen rolls her eyes and says, “Wow. Leadership skills ten out of ten.” Leif ignores them all the way to the bathroom, whereupon he shuts himself in a stall and tries not to think about Zoey’s lips on his neck (if he loosens his tie even a little, he’s sure the hickey will peek out) and Zoey’s hips rolling in a flawless pattern with his thrusts (now his pants are too tight again) and Zoey’s moans of his name as she comes undone in his arms (still sounding like his annoyed boss while doing so.) He tells himself he won’t leave this stall until the thoughts are exiled from his mind.
So, yeah, he doesn’t leave the stall for a while.
“I’m sorry, you slept with who?”
In response, Zoey slumps over the counter and hides her face under her arms, letting out a pitiful whimper on her way down. Sitting next to her at the bar with his laptop open to financial spreadsheets that boggle even Zoey’s STEM-oriented mind, Max offers her a sympathetic pat on the back and aims a capital-L Look in Mo’s direction. “Could you say that any louder?” he quips.
“Hush, Maxwell. We both know not a single soul in this place is entertaining Little Red Riding Ho’s woes except for us,” scoffs Mo as he tops off Zoey’s glass.
Zoey’s head flings upward and she stares across the counter at her friend, unsure whether to be offended by the nickname or commend him for it being so clever. She snatches up her mystery drink and while in the middle of a long sip, her eyebrows skyrocket and she raises a finger to indicate she has an idea. “Okay, but,” she says after one last gulp, slamming the glass back onto its bedazzled coaster sans liquid, “does it really count as ‘sleeping together’ if we weren’t even in a bed? Like, at all?”
“Ooooh,” Mo says, leaning onto the bar with his chin perched on his hands. It somehow both does and doesn’t correspond with Max’s “Ahhh” as he conceals a grimace behind one hand.
“It was... against the wall.” Her neutral gaze flashes from Mo over to Max, who she directs a sheepish finger gun at. “In the meditation room. And that’s as specific as the details are gonna get, okay?”
Max makes another disgruntled noise, his face twisting into an indiscernible shape. “The meditation room? And you were sober?”
“Well, I was then,” Zoey replies before doing one of her not-quite-a-wink winks. “But I am definitely not now.” Then she frowns. “Which is probably why I’m talking about this to you guys...”
He barks out a dry laugh. “How come we never tried the meditation room?”
“Because we only dated for twelve days a million years ago,” Zoey snorts. “God, Max, when will you be over me?”
He sticks his tongue out at her teasing. “Only when I get back under you, of course,” he responds with his own sarcastic barb before adding, “And if I may present my evidence to the court”— he looks to Mo as if he is the judge presiding over the case of Clarke v. Richman— “I know for a fact that you were super torn-up about us breaking up because you immediately got together with that girl—”
Zoey hurriedly slaps a hand over his mouth and whisper-shouts, “We do not talk about Annie from Michigan! That girl almost got me into a life of crime!” She removes her hand and playfully shoves his arm. “Just go back to flirting with Rose, you corn dog.”
Max wiggles his eyebrows. “You mean horndog?”
Zoey wrinkles her nose. “No. You’re a corn dog.” Without warning, she reaches out and shuts his laptop. “Take that!”
“Hey, Zoey and Max- dwell, can we please close this tired old case and hop back to the present problem?” Mo snaps, smacking the counter a couple times like he’s holding a gavel. Zoey and Max dutifully shut up and turn their attention to their friend. “Let’s get the most important question out of the way first: was it any good?”
“I’d rather not disclose that information,” Zoey mumbles, looking down and picking at her nails.
Max leans forward and catches Mo’s eye. “That means it was,” he explains, at which Mo gives him an Oh really? look. Now it’s Max’s turn to give Zoey’s arm a nudge. “So what was it like to kiss a Slytherin, Zo?” He produces an exaggerated shudder, and Zoey giggles despite herself.
“Not divulging that, either,” she says.
“So you’re just gonna dangle this huge bomb over us and not even drop it?” Mo demands.
“— or tell us which wire to cut before it can go off?” Max adds, his mildly alarmed expression darting back and forth between the other two.
“Oh, it’s going to go off, Maxwell. We’re not stopping that one.” Mo refills Zoey’s drink again and slides it toward her. “That’s the last you’re getting from me, by the way,” he tells her. “I’ll call you a courtesy Uber in thirty. Love you!” With that, he moves further down the bar to attend to other patrons, leaving Zoey to stare sullenly into the amber liquid in her glass and wonder what’s become of her life.
The emcee nods at Leif. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Leif tells them. They’re pretty familiar with each other by now, so the guy smirks knowingly at him before putting on the music. Leif steps up to the microphone and kicks off the song.
I got you
And that’s all I want
I won’t forget
That’s a whole lot
I don’t go out
Not now that you’re in
Sometimes we shout
But that’s no problem
The melody picks up, and Leif clutches the mic, adding volume to his voice as the familiar lyrics leap off his tongue with a mind of their own.
I don’t know why sometimes I get frightened
You can see my eyes, you can tell that I’m not lying
An impressed murmur ripples over the crowd. Motivated by that and the alcohol in his veins, Leif powers on.
Look at you
You’re a pageant
You’re everything
That I’ve imagined
But something’s wrong
I feel uneasy
You show me
Tell me you’re not teasing
Afterward, Leif rejoins Tobin at the cramped standing table they’d snagged along the wall opposite the bar. “Went for the eighties tonight, huh?” Tobin asks.
“Barely eighties,” Leif points out quietly.
He hides his face behind his drink while Tobin presses, “So why are we here, dude? I mean, not that I’m complaining. There’s babes and himbos aplenty here.” Right as he says that, he tips his glass at a group of women who look like they’re celebrating a bachelorette party. Only one of them spares him half a glance, and if Leif isn’t mistaken, it’s the bride-to-be.
“We’re here,” Leif says, allowing himself a long sip like it’s a drag off a bummed cigarette, “for the same reason we always are.”
Tobin frowns, confused. “Because we’re feeling pathetic?”
“Bingo.”
“Well that’s where you’re wrong.” Tobin draws himself up haughtily. “There’s a girl you might know named McKenzie who’s been making hook-up eyes at me for weeks now.”
Leif clears his throat. “Hate it break it to you, Tobes, but McKenzie’s actually been making what can be roughly translated as fuck-you eyes. And not the good kind of fuck you. I can see how you’d make the mistake, though. They look very similar.”
Tobin’s face hardens into a pout and he slouches down behind his drink. “Maybe if I go back to the emo hair—”
“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”
Tobin had always assumed that he would stop dreaming about something once it actually happened.
But that’s the funny thing. He’s kissed his best friend before, mainly when they’ve been tipsy and just want to show their affection for each other. Leif never seems to remember come the next morning, or at least he acts like he doesn’t.
Tobin remembers though. He still thinks and dreams a lot about kissing his best friend, probably just as much as he thinks and dreams about kissing his boss, and that’s a problem, he thinks.
It feels like slightly less of a problem when he’s actively doing one of those things, however. The backseat of the Uber might as well be his kingdom as long as he’s making out with Leif in it. Lucky for them, the driver is a real bro about it and doesn’t say a word the entire ride home from the karaoke bar, so Tobin leaves a hefty tip and makes a mental note to give them a five-star rating later.
“You’re so baller, man, you know that?” Tobin interrupts a nuzzle to pull back and meet Leif’s eyes seriously. He doesn’t even know if they’ve made it inside their apartment yet or not. “Tell me you know that.” He pushes his chest. “I love you.”
Leif stares at him, then jumps back as if Tobin is a flaming statue of lava. “What...” He yanks at his shirt collar and looks at the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, Tobin. What are we doing?”
Tobin blinks. Suddenly he feels as sober as if he’s been dropped into an ice bath. “Uh, we’ve done this before. I don’t know what—”
“Zoey and I had sex.”
Tobin blinks again. And again, because he’s not sure if any other part of his body can move. “Oh,” he eventually says. “You...” A million questions cross his mind, but none can seem to find their way out of the maze his mind has become.
“And I feel guilty,” Leif goes on, still maintaining eye contact with his shoes, “and I don’t know why.”
“W- why—?” Tobin repeats, his voice barely a croak. God, what is he trying to do, impersonate a sickly parrot?
“A- actually, I do know why,” Leif says softly. Finally he raises his eyes to meet Tobin’s, though they continue to waver. “I know you’re in love with her. But I- I think I am too. Have been for a while. I’m sorry, I...” An explosive breath rushes through his lungs. “What I don’t know is what to do next.”
Tobin barely feels his limbs moving when he steps forward and pulls Leif into a hug. As conflicted as he’s feeling at the moment, it’s what he needs. Leif’s body is comforting to him, warmth and scent and familiarity all bundled into a skinny, smartass package. After a pause, Leif returns the hug, arms wrapping behind Tobin’s back.
“I love you,” Tobin sighs into Leif’s wrinkled cardigan. He’s pretty sure it’s too muffled for Leif to be able to hear him. It’s probably better that way. Then he pulls back and says much more clearly, “I’m not in love with our boss, bro. I just... kinda like to think about her a lot.”
Leif only offers a doubtful hmm in response. He doesn’t have to spell out any intelligible words for Tobin to know he doesn’t believe him for a second. He doesn’t believe himself, either.
Long ago, Zoey had calculated that the next super visible Leodons meteor shower would occur soon before her thirtieth birthday. And now here she is, about to jump off the cliff of twenty-nine, with nobody but the spirit of her dead father to view the meteor shower with. Mo is busy with the restaurant, Max has a date with Rose (finally), Simon is still too recently her ex, David and Emily are going off on a long weekend trip, Maggie is watching Miles for them, and Joan is in goddamn Singapore. It’s a sore reminder that when it comes down to it, Zoey is truly alone just ahead of the inevitable plunge into her thirties. But she figures there must be worse ways to spend an evening than sitting on a picnic blanket off a dark, windy road with a meal for one of turkey sandwiches and orange soda.
So of course one of the last people she would want to be there overhears her mentioning it at work.
“Oh, are you talking about the Leodons?” Leif asks innocently. Zoey turns on her heel and stares icily at him. When she doesn’t respond, he proceeds cautiously, “I wish I could join you, but Tobin and I have ax-throwing practice so—”
“Well, in that case, it sure is a relief I wasn’t planning on inviting you to grace me and the meteors with your presence then, huh?” With a stiff swing of her arm, Zoey starts to walk away, only for Tobin’s voice to pipe up behind her.
“Hold your horses there, Z! What would happen if— hypothetically— Leif here and yours truly just so happened to show up at the exact same place as you at the exact same time in the exact same car and everything? Wouldn’t that be craaazy?”
Zoey’s hands curl into fists. They are so not about to ruin a cherished memory with her dad. She whirls back around and starts, “Tobin, I swear to—”
“Great! It’s a date.” Tobin beams. “Shoot us the deets, ‘kay?” He rolls back over to his desk, the sound of his chair’s wheels disrupting both Leif and Zoey’s noises of protest. The two can only squint at each other and try their hardest not to think about the events of last week while doing so. But when Zoey turns away and heads back to her office, that is precisely what’s on her mind.
“Would you care to enlighten me about why you’re so excited for tonight?” Leif asks as he tugs on a burnt orange beanie. “Because I can’t say I’m too keen on it.”
“Yeah you are,” Tobin corrects him, making Leif bristle instinctively. “It’s Zoey, dude. I’m sure you’re all horned up and ready to go.”
Leif can’t suppress a wince. “I... was hoping you’d forgotten I told you.”
“Try as I might,” Tobin says, shrugging on his coat, “I can’t forget that we’re both into the same girl, nor that you somehow sealed the deal lightyears ahead of me.” He fixes a clearly pained grin in Leif’s direction. “So I thought it might be fun for the three of us to hang out and bond as besties. Stargazin’ with the boss. What could go wrong?”
Lots of things. Many things could go wrong. But out loud, all Leif says is “I didn’t seal any deal. It was...” He bites his lip and focuses on buttoning up his coat. “It was a one-time thing.”
“Ahh, right. I bet it was,” Tobin mutters before swinging open the front door. “Quit lying through your teeth bro, or else you might get your first-ever cavity.” The bitterness in his voice could compete with the bitterness of the radishes Leif used to grow in his windowsill garden. Feeling utterly stuck, Leif follows Tobin outside to where Zoey’s car is idling by the curb.
After a stressful drive up to the exact same site Mitch took her to nearly two decades ago— exacerbated by Tobin’s continuous Blair Witch-related comments and Leif waiting until the last possible second to read off directions to her on the super poorly-lit road— Zoey is finally ready to relax for the first time today. She pops the back of her Mini Cooper and pulls out the carefully folded blanket. To her surprise, Tobin retrieves the picnic basket of sodas and sandwiches without being asked. While they spread that out, Leif kneels by the telescope and works on adjusting it.
“Ohh! I get it now!” Tobin exclaims all of a sudden as he rifles through the meager food offerings Zoey packed. The other two glance over at him, puzzled. Apparently offended that they can’t read his mind, Tobin holds up several cans of orange soda in both hands and says, “So drinking all this orange soda as a kid is what made your hair, you know...” He trails off and gestures vaguely.
Zoey frowns with her entire face, forehead scrunching as she holds up a ginger curl and examines it, half-expecting to see something wrong.
“Never mind,” Tobin mumbles. He immediately brightens again when he cracks open one of the cans and takes a long swig. “Ahhh. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here drinking this and pretending it’s the kind of Coke that still has cocaine in it while I wait for us to get murdered out here.”
“We’re not getting murdered out here, Tobes,” Leif tells him.
“Says the man who already murdered my heart.” Tobin pounds his chest dramatically and hides his face behind the already half-empty soda can. Leif sighs just as dramatically and turns away to look into the telescope.
Zoey peers back and forth between the two for a moment, then shrugs it off. She can deal with the issues between these asshats later— that is, if she even hears a heart song from them about it. For tonight, the only tasks Zoey has on her plate are to watch the goddamn meteor shower, eat a goddamn sandwich, and pretend she didn’t just recently sleep with one of the aforementioned asshats.
So of course the universe has it out for her. Why should she get to enjoy an evening out honoring her father’s memory when she still has Riverdale-esque love life issues to deal with? Right when Tobin squats by the telescope to check the status of the still blank night sky, Leif springs upward in perfect sync with lively instrumentals provided by invisible synthesizers in her head.
Sometimes I feel I’ve got to
Run away I’ve got to
Get away
From the pain you drive into the heart of me
Oh, okay, so he’s going for the full theatrics here. Zoey stands there in her puffy coat with her arms crossed, watching Leif pounce from rock to rock like a beanie-wearing mountain lion, face twisted and tongue smooth as he sings.
The love we share
Seems to go nowhere
And I’ve lost my light
For I toss and turn I can’t sleep at night
So what if Zoey can maybe-possibly-kind-of relate to tossing and turning at night? It’s only because she regrets submitting to temptation during a moment of weakness in the middle of the work day. It’s almost like she’d blacked out that day, her movements fueled by the lust potion that must’ve been slipped into the extra large latte she drank that morning. She remembers watching Leif walk away from his desk, and watching him head toward the hall where the meditation room is. She wasn’t in control of her feet when she stood up and exited her office and followed him in there and practically pinned him against the wall. She can’t even recall who kissed who first, but either way, it was a mistake.
But what’s done is done, and now here Leif is, screaming out lyrics that are undoubtedly about her, his body bending into the choreography like he’s been rehearsing it his whole life. While singing the chorus, he leaps off a boulder and dashes over to her, only to back off and clutch his head.
Once I ran to you
Now, I’ll run from you
This tainted love you’ve given
I give you all a boy could give you
Take my tears and that’s not nearly all
Oh, tainted love
Tainted love
Zoey feels lost. How can something that was so spontaneous on her part cause so much anguish on his? Unless... how long has Leif been thinking about her in that way? Icy claws of fear close around her gut as her thoughts spiral. And just when she thinks it can’t get any worse, Tobin spins away from the telescope and takes the next verse while the first far-off flashes of the meteor shower gleam in the sky behind him.
Now, I know I’ve got to
Run away, I’ve got to
Get away
You don’t really want any more from me
From what she can tell, he’s directing it at Leif, who stands frozen while Tobin stomps circles around him, agony exaggerating every little movement he makes.
To make things right
You need someone to hold you tight
And you think love is to pray
But I’m sorry, I don’t pray that way
As soon as Tobin repeats the chorus, Leif breaks out of his stupor and both guys contribute their voices to the final part. And, to Zoey’s horror, both asshats are now singing at her and at each other, jerking around and shaking their heads as if controlled by puppet strings. Leif even goes so far as to throw his beanie over the edge of the cliff. Zoey doesn’t think she’s ever seen so much raw emotion packed into a single heart song. It’s both amazing and frightening at the same time.
Don’t touch me please
I cannot stand the way you tease
I love you, though you hurt me so
Now, I’m gonna pack my things and go
Tainted love, oh, tainted love, oh
The song fades out and the unwitting performers shift back into their regular selves; Tobin fiddles with the telescope while Leif kicks around pebbles, hat back in place on his stupid, big ol’ head.
“That meteor shower was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I helped deliver my baby sister.” Tobin retreats from the telescope and faces the others with awe coloring his features. “Did you guys see that?”
“No,” Zoey growls, swiping up one of the drink cans and popping it open. (Now she wishes these orange sodas were spiked with something a little more crisis-friendly.) “I missed it.” She proceeds to grab Leif by the wrist and drag him over toward where the car is parked so that they’re out of earshot from Tobin.
“Jesus, Zoey, what—”
Shutting him up only requires her to purse her lips and make a zip it motion with her hand. “Is there a chance,” she asks, taking cool and calculated sips of soda between every couple words, “you may have told Tobin about what we did?”
Leif hugs himself more tightly and coughs. “Um, not a chance, technically. It is actually an irrefutable fact that I told him.”
Zoey blinks stupidly at him for a minute. Her fingers gradually squeeze the soda can with increasing strength until, without any warning, she chugs the remainder of the sugary drink. Leif watches her with a mixture of amazement and mild horror. When she’s done, she tosses the empty can over her shoulder while letting loose a magnificent belch, finishing it with, “You’re the worst.”
Leif’s jaw hangs open. “And you are... not the worst when it comes to releasing gas from your body.”
“It was... a metaphor for my anger,” Zoey mumbles, her resolve weakening with each word. She stands there fuming for a moment, arms swinging absently; then with a frustrated grumble, she stomps over to where her discarded soda can landed and picks it up. “Damn it, I’m pissed off but not pissed off enough to litter.” She returns to Leif and jabs the hand holding the half-crushed can at him. “I can’t believe you told him, Leif!”
He can’t help scoffing at that. “What, as if you haven’t told Max and whoever else?” Zoey makes another irritated noise and looks away from him. “And besides, I was drunk and in a vulnerable mood—”
“But it’s Tobin!”
Leif quirks a brow. “And?”
“He’s...” Zoey moves her arms exasperatedly. “Tobin. I don’t know! He’s different!”
Leif stares at her. Then, as if he’s utilizing every possible method to maximize her madness, he starts to laugh. “Oh,” he says. “Okay. I— I get it now.” He points at her. “You like him.”
If Zoey’s supernatural powers extended to making her scowl venomous, she would gladly take advantage of it now. “This isn’t fair, Leif,” she says, now more subdued than before. “I wanted tonight to be like stepping in a time machine to the past, for it to be exactly like it was with Dad, and you guys had to ruin it with your... your...”
“I’m sorry, our what?”
Zoey’s aggravation quickly rebuilds itself, and she explodes, “Your tainted love!”
This time Leif’s chuckle comes out a bit more nervously. “Wh— now you’re just being melodramatic—”
“I’m being melodramatic?” Zoey asks, slapping a hand against her own chest. “I am? Well I’m not the one who just sang and jumped around and threw my hat off a cliff! Noooo, that’s all you, buddy! And him.” She points over at Tobin, and they both take a second to check on their friend. Shockingly, he isn’t trying to listen in on their conversation, and instead appears to be hypnotized by something on his phone. A quick look between Leif and Zoey reveals they have the exact same thought in mind: they would both bet money that he’s playing Stardew Valley.
“Okay, so let me get this straight...” Leif begins slowly. “I”— he gestures at himself— “just sang something, and, quote, ‘jumped around’ like sciatica isn’t my mortal enemy, and then I tossed my hat off the cliff?” He tugs at the same beanie and raises his brows at her. “This hat?”
Zoey swats the loosened beanie off his head and it hits the ground in a sad little pile. She takes a deep breath. “Believe it or not, I have a musical power. There’s this whole practiced spiel where I say it’s like X-Men meets The Voice, but I’m not getting into that. Point is, I’m even crazier than you already thought I was, so hooray for that!” She raises a fist in a fake display of enthusiasm and watches the unusual news sink in on his face.
To her dismay, he only narrows his eyes and says, “You know, Zoey, you don’t have to fabricate some elaborate lie as a way to— to let me down easy, or something.”
“I’m not lying,” Zoey insists. She stares vehemently at him until he meets her eyes. “I’m telling the truth. As insane as it sounds... I hear people sing to me. Me, the computer nerd who never even glanced at a musical theater poster in high school. It sounds like the plot of a weird TV show, I know. But it’s my life, and I live it every single day, and just about every single person in my life has performed to me, in one way or another, through song.” The entire time she explains this, she nods carefully and maintains eye contact like she’s describing the concept to her six-month-old nephew. “It’s real, Leif.”
His gaze darts away from hers again, escaping before she can say something else to stop it. But then she realizes that he’s wearing his thinking mask, that thing he does where he refuses to look at anything but his shoes and twists his mouth slightly. It’s super dark out here, but Zoey has known the guy for six years now— she can’t not recognize the look.
There’s a minute of tense silence, and Zoey spends every second of it fidgeting and picking at the sleeve of her coat. Just a few yards away, Tobin is lounging comfortably on the blanket, his face beautifully serene in the glowing whitish light of his phone screen. She wonders when exactly that idiot also got under her skin the way Leif has. (Maybe it’s something about them both being here with her now, up on this creepy outlook, when they could’ve been anywhere else instead.)
That’s when Leif finally reboots his brain, glances up, and says, “So if that’s real... your, um, musical power thing... then... could we be real?” He motions between them with the most earnest look on his face, and suddenly Zoey wants to delete the space between them and bring her lips to his and swallow all of the air in his lungs.
She lets out a silent breath as she mulls it over. Deep down she knows it doesn’t really need any mulling, though; she’s already turned the possibility over and over in her head like flipping the world’s slowest-cooking pancake. Denial didn’t work when it came to accepting that her dad was gone, and it sure isn’t working here, either.
“Zoey?” Her name is soft on his tongue, almost like he’s worried it’s too fragile for him to even pronounce.
Still unable to say anything, she chooses to bend down and rescue his hat from where she’d flicked it to the ground. She steps closer, smooths back the remarkably soft blond strands, and fits the hat back onto his head.
“Because I... I’ve tried,” he continues, “and what happened in the meditation room last week? It can’t just mean nothing to me. And I’m already going through something weird with Tobin, too.” Again, both pairs of distressed blue eyes find their companion over on the blanket, none the wiser to their lives possibly changing forever in the next few minutes. When Leif looks back at Zoey again, there’s an unexpected fondness there, like one of the last walls between them has been stripped away. “So, yeah, I can act like what’s happened between Tobin and I means nothing, and I can pretend you and I just had some casual, short-lived fling. But you saw what happened with Joan— I’m just not built that way. And you and Tobin... you guys mean everything to me. ‘Nothing’ isn’t even a word in my vocabulary when I look at you.”
Zoey’s eyes glitter with unshed tears. Unsuccessful in stilling her lower lip, she rubs her nose and lets out what feels like the longest breath ever. She can’t help thinking about the dork she met on that first day at SPRQ Point, who clarified his name so arrogantly and ranted about his family’s pressure on him. He was literally the worst. He still is. And she absolutely hates that the man seems to be incapable of making a single mistake in his life. Zoey gives the ground a defiant little kick. That’s for always making Leif Donnelly right, universe.
The first words to leave her mouth in several minutes aren’t the ones she expected. “Prove it, then.” She sets her lips in a straight line, nodding affirmatively to convince herself as much as him. “You’re a champion of the Scripps, right? You told me that the day we met. And I’ve suffered through allll of your guys’ Spelliversaries for the past six years. Sooo... since you like spelling so much, then spell it out for me.”
Leif’s brow furrows, gaze steady on her face as he tries to understand. “You— did I not just—”
“That’s an order, Leif,” she interrupts. She tries to adopt her “Joan tone” that she uses to scold Glen and Tobin, but her voice cracks as the last of her misgivings crumble. “Spell ‘nothing.’ Please.”
Finally too bored to be entertained by his phone anymore, Tobin hops up from the blanket and approaches the other two curiously.
“Can— can you use it in a sentence?” Leif asks. She opens her mouth, but he quickly adds, “That’s... one of the rules in the—”
“What... the fuck,” Tobin whispers. “Uh, are y’all done figuring out you both like each other in the same way or whatever? Because this is getting weird. And I’m getting hungry for something that isn’t grocery store deli turkey.”
Zoey ignores him and responds, “Okay. Here’s one: I don’t want it to mean nothing, either.” With the words out of her, she feels lighter, like balloons have been tied under her arms and lifted her above the ground. “I don’t know why I followed you into the meditation room that day. I really don’t. A- and I can’t say I know where this is going, but if you ask me, I’d love to stick around and continue... stumbling down this road. I’m here if you are, for... for a great, big, sweet... something.”
Leif chuckles, and Tobin huffs out a still semi-confused laugh, and that’s the real music to Zoey’s ears. “So that was... several sentences. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it.” Leif grins broadly and recites, “‘Nothing.’ I-L-I-K-E-Y-O-U.” He pauses, then holds up a finger and tacks on, “A-L-O-T.”
“Well, you are officially no longer a spelling bee champ,” Tobin mutters. Zoey yanks Leif into a tight hug, her face completely enveloped by his coat. Tobin lingers there watching them for a moment, then throws his arms up in the air and declares, “Damn it, there’s no way in hell I’m missing out on this too!” He launches himself into the hug, throwing his arms around the other two and squeezing them a little too tight.
“Tobin,” Zoey chokes. He springs away, only to be caught off-guard by the affection tugging at the corners of her lips. “You are the smartest dumbass I know,” she tells him. Then she seizes his shirt and kisses him. Tobin grunts, his eyes flying wide open, but it takes only a second for him to shrug it off and melt into her touch.
When they break apart, all Tobin can manage to do is blink a couple times and stammer, “Wait— so— me too?”
“Yes, you too,” Leif assures him, and then they all fall into another embrace, snuggling in the warmth of each other’s body heat and shying away from the night chill surrounding them.
After a good chunk of time passes that consists solely of sniffles and pecks and laughs— and honestly, Zoey loves the sound of what could be the rest of her life— they start collecting their things amid promises from Zoey (naturally preceded by several requests from Tobin) that they’ll stop at that sketchy-looking McDonald’s they passed on the way up. “And we’re coming back here tomorrow to try seeing the shower again,” she announces, meeting both pairs of eyes to cement the seriousness of her statement. “It’s not fair that only Tobin got to see it.”
She picks her way over the rocks back to the car, but Leif catches Tobin’s wrist. “Hey,” he whispers, giving his boyfriend’s (holy shit his boyfriend!) hand a squeeze. “I feel kinda bad that we ruined this for her tonight. Maybe we should—”
“Ruined, bro? She went up this mountain single and is leaving it with two boyfriends! I think we made Z’s night.” Another realization makes Tobin smack Leif’s shoulder. “And Susan from HR is gonna have a field day with this!”
Leif sighs. “I meant the whole viewing-the-meteor-shower part of it.”
“Oh, right.” Tobin frowns. “So we should—”
“— we should try to make up for it. And not just by treating her to an Oreo McFlurry.”
Tobin stands on his toes and drops a peck on Leif’s cheek. “I got you, dog.”
Leif’s jaw twitches. “I thought we’ve been over the whole calling me ‘dog’ thing.”
“I don’t care that you’re a cat person. All I care about right now is that I got the girl! We got a girlfriend, Leify Keen!” Tobin grabs Leif’s face and drags him into a fleeting kiss. “I love being able to do that.”
“Guys?” Zoey’s voice comes from a few feet away, where she’s standing by the open driver’s side door. “Are we going, or...?”
Tobin pats Leif’s shoulder one last time, catching his eye with a knowing nod. Then he calls over to Zoey, “Hang on a sec!” He motions for her to come back over, and she obeys, brows lifted expectantly. They stand and wait while Tobin fishes out his phone and swipes onto an unfamiliar-looking app. “I’ve had this thing programmed for ages now. Finally getting the opportunity to use this bad boy.” He makes one more tap and starts counting down to something under his breath. Leif and Zoey exchange a fearful glance, but before they can voice any concerns, an enormous display of fireworks goes off in the distance. They both jump nearly as high as the distant sparks in the sky.
“What the hell?” Zoey squeaks. “How did you—”
“You don’t have to ask, babe,” Tobin smirks and wraps his arms behind her and Leif, pulling them in close. “Just admire.”
So that’s exactly what they do. Well, mostly. It’s kind of hard to look at something as lame as probably illegal pyrotechnics when there’s two super hot, super cool significant others of yours to admire instead. The red fizzies in the sky can’t hold a candle to Zoey’s hair, and the pops of blue are nothing compared to Leif’s eyes, and Tobin decides it would be best to wait to tell them he’s had those fireworks in place (and checked on it yearly) since a particular day back in 2015.
Yeah, that can wait.