"I really want to ban the group now," Zane, the hot guy whose dad owns the building, mutters as the two of us work using scrubbers rather than rags to try to get out a sticky spill spot that dried as best as we can.

Zane actually left to go buy the scrubbers after we realized a few of these weren't coming out otherwise. I spent the time he was doing that working on other spill spots. It involves soaking them with a rag, then using another to try to dab them up. Sometimes letting the solution soak into it for a bit, wetting it again as needed.

Taking care of the trash alone took the two of us a couple of hours. Sorting it, bagging it, and taking it to the dumpsters and making sure we put them into the right ones, then returning. Even with the wheeled bins to help us, it still took a lot of time. And now there's the scrubbing.

We're already into the second hour of scrubbing, and we discovered that we need to clean many of the chairs, too. This whole thing may take us longer than it took me last week. Even with two of us. I really don't blame him for wanting to ban them.

At this point, I got so hot that I even took off my hoodie and tied it around my waist. My bag is out in the hall, as Zane said no one's supposed to come up here without permission, so it should be safe. It was still there the last time I stepped out of the hall.

"Didn't you say your dad gave you permission to?" I ask.

"That's right," he gives me a grin, which hits me just as hard as Lucas's do. "He did give me permission to do that! Though I may see if we can charge an added fee to cover dealing with spills for groups that do a lot of them."

"How often would you need to deal with that?" I ask.

"The group that's coming in to use this room tonight?" He stops scrubbing and shifts back, sitting on his legs as he looks at me. "Up to two hundred and thirty kids, all under the age of twelve, and twenty adults to chaperon them. That's the most we'll allow in one of the halls. It's run by a wonderful woman. She contacts families throughout this area of the lower districts and offers them a chance to let their kids out of the cold for two nights a month. Every group of kids is different during a month because they can only do it once per month unless there's a fifth one that month, then it's first to sign up.

"She's been doing this since before I was born," he tells me. "The group usually doesn't change unless someone can't afford the ten dollars we charge per person, someone moves or dies, or someone hits thirteen, as she only covers children up to twelve for this. Most of the kids are here from when they're four or five until they turn thirteen, every single month, their parents doing everything they can to save up those ten dollars a month in many of the cases. Some of the parents pool money together to buy snacks for the kids, too, and to cover the costs when some of the other regular kids can't afford it so that they can still attend.

"When they leave," he gestures to the hall. "It really only needs vacuumed. I do that on my own. They take care of their trash, they clean up spills immediately, and they even stack the chairs before they leave. She's actually asked us to leave bins in here so they can sort their trash themselves and she likes to have a bucket of cleaning water for when they spill their drinks. She keeps the kids responsible for cleaning up their own messes. It's an amazing group to work with, and we actually give them a discount every few months for it, especially since I can take care of the cleanup. Even the bathrooms are rather clean. The crew that handles those has commented that they only really need to restock things and take out the trash."

"So you have two extreme ends of the spectrum there," I say.

"Yep," he answers. "And most of the groups lean closer to the next group's habits than the last's. There's still plenty of trash to clean up and other work to do, since everyone figures we'll just handle it, but it's nothing as severe as the group that just used this hall."

We return to scrubbing out the spills, and it takes us until almost two-thirty to finish because of how bad and disgusting it was. Part of why it took that long was also needing to constantly empty out the buckets and refill them with hot water with the cleaner mixed into it. Honestly, we probably just cleaned almost the entire carpet in here.

"Let's take our break for lunch," Zane whips out his phone and sends a message to someone as we walk out to the foyer. "Then after, we can work on the chairs."

We moved the chairs out to the foyer of this floor, stacked a little higher so that we have more space to clean them in, because of how much of the carpet we needed to clean. There's also the fact that most of the conference hall's floor is damp now as well, and we should wait to walk on it again until it's dry.

I take a seat against one wall and stretch out a little, then fold my arms across my chest and rest. Zane's probably going to go eat lunch in an office or something, while I'm left without any food because I didn't bring any and I'm not heading out to buy some.

"Mind if I sit by you?" Zane asks.

"Aren't you going to go eat lunch?" I ask.

"You mentioned you hadn't brought anything," he says. "So I ordered some pizza while changing the water a little bit ago. It got here a few minutes before we finished and is being held in the warmer on the staff floor. I let someone know to bring it down."

"You didn't have to do that," I tell him. "I'm fine with missing a meal."

"You mentioned while we were working," he sits beside me, close enough that our arms are touching. "That the reason you normally aren't available after four is because you recently started training in the evenings. You need food for that, Kieran."

"Thanks, I guess," I tell him. "You really didn't need to, though. If I got really hungry before going in, I could always pick something up on my way there."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

"Yeah," he says. "But you literally just worked with me for six hours picking up trash and scrubbing a carpet. I can buy you lunch."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome," he says. "Mind if I ask what kind of training it is?"

Just like with Lucas, I can tell I'm falling fast for Zane, and it makes me want to be honest here.

"Power training," I answer. "I've never really used my ability before, other than when I discovered it. About a week and a half ago, a, uh, company decided they wanted to utilize it and hire me on as a security guard. They paid me an advance and told me to get training. If, in a month, I meet their standards, they'll hire me. If not, they'll expect me to pay back the advance within six months. As far as I can tell it's a position that'll cover my costs of living without needing to be a temp worker like this, so I'm throwing myself into the training. Two hours a day, every day. I switch between power training, agility training, and martial arts. I'm hoping I make the cut."

He's quiet for a few moments, and a glance at him shows that he's contemplative about something.

"Can I see your power?" He asks. "It sounds kind of cool."

"How can you tell if it's cool or not?" I ask. "I didn't say what it is."

"Yeah," he says. "But if it's something a security company wants, even if you've only used it once, meaning it's probably pretty weak, it's got to be something cool, right? I mean, they literally paid you to train it in prep for possibly getting the job. So it's got to be cool."

"Erm," I hesitate. "I can't stay dressed when using it."

"I can't stay dressed when using mine," he grins. "Well, I could, just not fully."

"You're an ability user?" I ask.

"Yep!" He answers as the elevator pings, then the doors open.

A guy who looks like Zane might in ten years comes out, carrying a box of pizza, some napkins, a couple of plastic cups, and a pitcher full of water. He's dressed in the same outfit as Zane, though looks somewhat annoyed.

Then he sets his gaze on me and a look of realization and resignation crosses his face. What's that about?

"Zane, you know you can get your food yourself, right?" He asks.

"Yeah," Zane says. "But why would I want to leave a cutie alone by himself?"

Oh, he thinks I'm cute.

Wait, what? I look at Zane in shock. Is that why he stuck around to help me? To chat with me more? That explains why he sat touching me, too. Could he be testing to see if I have an interest, just like Lucas is? Though I supposed Zane is a bit more open about it if he's openly stating that in front of me.

This might be part of why he specifically requested me to do this job, then. It might also be part of why he ordered food for me. What kind of attraction does he hold? Interest in sex, or is he one of those people who wouldn't mind dating a nice guy he just met and seeing how things go?

"Yeah, yeah," the guy responds to Zane's comment as he sets the stuff down in front of us. "Just remember your position, Zane. By the way, Dad said that Mom contacted him and said she has to stay there a few more nights."

"Okay," Zane says. "Thanks! Now shoo!"

He really wants to be alone with me, doesn't he?

"Just remember your position," his brother tells him, then leaves.

Zane opens up the box immediately and pulls out a slice of the sausage-and-onion pizza.

"Your position?" I ask.

"Hm?" He asks as he takes a bite.

"Your brother said to remember your position when you mentioned I was cute, and again when you made it clear you wanted to be alone with me."

"Ah!" Zane chuckles. "Yeah. Soooooo I used to just hook up with random guys. One-off flings. Maybe let it last a few more than that. It's not me being into cute guys that was the problem, nor me being in cute guys. There were just problems from time to time if a hookup affected the family in any way. Like when I slept with the nineteen-year-old son of a very homophobic friend of my father's."

That probably wasn't the best of ideas.

"You said 'used to'?" I ask. "How long ago was that? Your brother doesn't seem to think you're over it."

"Ah," he says. "Yeah, that's because I told them only last Wednesday that I was done with that and would look for a serious relationship, no matter how much I want, well, y'know. It was the day after my birthday, and after another hookup, and so I can kind of understand why they don't trust me on that."

"How old did you turn?" I ask.

"Just hit twenty-two," he grins. "I got the good, twink build. Hoping to keep looking like I'm eighteen or nineteen for another five years if I can. Have some pizza, Kieran."

I grab a slice of pizza and start enjoying it as I think about what he said. If he used to do hookups regularly, but is looking for a relationship now, where does that leave things with me? Is he wanting to hook up with me, but is resisting the urge to attempt it? Does he want to give dating me a try because I'm cute and that's it? Could he be off in the head and want me around so that he has eye candy to admire?

"Why the sudden change?" I ask after I finish my slice of the pizza.

He takes a drink to give him time to think over his response.

"Last Tuesday," he answers in a pretty serious tone. "After I got back to my apartment from the hookup, there was a job offer there."

"A job offer?"

"Yeah," he says. "It's a bit like yours. Just a notice that I have a month to decide if I want to accept it or not, not a request that I train or anything, no advance or anything. It is a security job, though. A pretty dangerous one, too. If I take the job, I'll never know if I'll make it through a shift alive."

It sounds like a similar situation to mine, and I can understand the change now.

"You want to give a real relationship a try," I say. "Because you'll be risking it all."

"Yeah," he sighs, leaning his head back and letting it rest against the wall. "The thing is… it'd be unfair to anyone if I did get into a relationship with them. I mean, what if it takes me only a week to get killed on the job? I'd go in knowing that I'm probably going to die much sooner than them, and it'd leave them alone."

"Everyone knows they could die at any time," I say. "There are diseases, murderers, accidents, the cold, starvation… a lot of things that can take a life that was otherwise fine. But yeah, it's a tough thing when you want to go into a relationship just because you know you might be dying soon."

He's quiet for a few moments.

"You're struggling with that, too, aren't you?" He asks.

"Yeah."

That's part of why I'm refraining from telling Lucas about my crush on him. There is, of course, the reason that if I don't become a Sivalshi Guardian, I won't be able to see him anymore. However, there's also the fact that if I get into a relationship now, it'd be for the same reason as Zane – to experience a relationship before risking my life.

Sure, Lucas is a personal bodyguard and has risk to his life, but he's looking for a relationship for love. At least, I'm pretty sure he is. Yeah, I'd like to be in love with the person I'm dating, but right now, I want it just to experience it. It would be really unfair for Lucas, even if I am crushing on him.

Zane and I finish off the entire pizza without speaking again, then we take care of the trash and stretch.

"So," he says. "I kind of like you a bit, Kieran, as you probably guessed. You're cute, you're nice, and you work hard. You also seem to be under similar circumstances as me. I know we've only known each other a week, and really only two of those days, but… do you want to experiment with an actual relationship with me? Kissing, cuddling, dates, and all?"