Study Mode Activated

Just before noon, the office always fell into a strange, suspended hush.

Keyboards still clicked. Phones still rang. Printers still hummed with mechanical obedience. But beneath the noise, there was a collective pause, as though the entire floor were holding its breath in anticipation of lunch. The scent of reheated leftovers drifted faintly through the air, mingling with industrial carpet and recycled air.

Zara adjusted her glasses and tried, unsuccessfully, to focus on the spreadsheet glowing on her monitor.

Rows of client codes blurred into meaninglessness.

Across the grey fabric wall of her cubicle, three newly painted Warhammer 40K figures stood at attention, freshly varnished and gleaming under fluorescent light. She'd finished them just after midnight: careful layering, steady hands, magnifying lamp angled precisely. The shading on the pauldrons had turned out especially well. Tiny sentries in bold colours, guardians of imagination in a sea of beige partitions.

A smile tugged at her mouth.

"They look good, right?" she murmured under her breath.

Silence, of course.

Still, the figures felt companionable. Reliable. Unlike certain tall, potbellied department heads who had not yet responded to a very reasonable question about dinner plans.

A glance at the time in the corner of her screen. 11:54 a.m. Plenty of time. Except not really. Planning required information. Information required texting. Texting required Roy to text back.

Anxiousness fluttered low in her stomach, not sharp or painful, just restless. It wasn't fear. Never fear. Roy loved her. Obviously. Unshakably. The solidity of that love felt as real and dependable as gravity.

What unsettled her was the uncertainty of logistics.

Groceries or no groceries? Stir-fry or takeout? Should she marinate chicken? Thaw something? Stop at the store after work? Lists formed automatically in her mind, branching and reorganizing like skill trees.

Two buildings over. That proximity alone was enough to make her giddy.

Two buildings. Less than five minutes' walk. Close enough that the world felt smaller, tighter, more connected. If she leaned far enough over her cubicle wall and squinted, she could almost imagine seeing his office window.

North Prairie Data Solutions printed neatly on her badge. Data entry clerk. A good job. Not particularly creative, not particularly exciting, but predictable. Being able to pay the rent, being able to work without the uncertainty of her future in the company, all things she valued. Besides, she had plenty of creative endeavors after work, and for excitement... well... she had Roy.

Once upon a time, meaning a few weeks ago, though it felt like another lifetime, none of this boy-girl electricity had even existed for her. Attraction had been an abstract concept. Other people talked about it the way gamers discussed expansions she'd never purchased. Interesting, maybe. Confusing. Ultimately irrelevant.

Asexual. That had been the word she'd been given.

Comfortable. Neutral. Untethered. That was how it felt.

Then Roy.

The world had cracked open like a loot chest.

Heat in the parking lot. Warmth in her chest. A rush when he smiled at her. The dizzying awareness of his body near hers. It was as though someone had patched in an entirely new sensory system overnight.

And now she wanted more.

Natalia drifted past the cubicle entrance at that moment, as if summoned by the thought. One of The Sexy Girls.

That was what Zara called them privately. The Sexy Girls moved through the office like they knew something everyone else didn't. Natalia, in particular, had mastered a kind of deliberate glide; hips steady, shoulders relaxed, eyes half-lidded in a way that suggested she was always aware of being watched.

Today's outfit: charcoal pencil skirt that skimmed every curve without technically violating dress code. Cream blouse, silk by the look of it, draped but tailored. Heels high enough to give the signal that they weren't chosen for comfort, but for impact. Gold hoops catching the light.

Two men at adjacent cubicles paused mid-conversation as she passed. Heads turned. Not dramatically. Subtly. Like sunflowers tracking daylight.

A slow blink.

Before Roy, Zara would have rolled her eyes.

The Sexy Girls had always seemed like players grinding for a stat she couldn't see. As though romantic attention were experience points. Level up! Unlock admiration! Gain validation bonuses! The metaphor had never quite worked, though. Games had objectives. Metrics. Clear rewards. What exactly was being won? Without a grid for attraction, the whole system had appeared pointless.

But now...

Now understanding hummed under her skin.

Attention wasn't currency.

It was electricity.

And she wanted to know what it felt like to conduct it.

Maybe Roy would like that.

The thought made her grin at her monitor. Cosplay, essentially. Learning a new class build. Observing mechanics. Testing abilities. Study mode activated.

Natalia's posture: elongated spine, shoulders back, chin slightly elevated. Movements unhurried. No darting glances. Every step intentional.

Zara glanced down at herself.

Height? Fixed. No overnight patch available.

Thinner? Not happening by tomorrow.

But assets?

Oh.

Her mother's voice rose immediately in memory.

"Ya binti," her mother had said once in the kitchen, hands on hips, flour dusting her apron. "Do you know what girls would do for what you have? If you learned to use them, habibti, you would drive the men wild."

Mortification had burned hotter than the oven. "Mama!"

"I'm serious! You hide everything. Why? It is a waste!"

At the time, the conversation had felt alien. Embarrassing. Misguided.

Now?

Heat climbed up Zara's neck for an entirely different reason.

Mama had always assumed the asexuality was a phase. Something to grow out of. Like picky eating. Or refusing to wear dresses. Meeting Roy would validate decades of maternal prophecy. Even if he was white.

A soft laugh escaped her.

Being with Roy would make her mother happy. But that wasn't why she was with him. Roy was her boyfriend.

Love radiated from that word.

Love.

More than game nights. More than collectables. More than standing outside at three in the morning to watch an eclipse through borrowed lenses. Loving Roy felt like discovering a hidden campaign within her own life.

And sexuality...

That was unexplored terrain. Becoming one of The Sexy Girls wasn't about competing. It wasn't about leveling up. It was about sharing something with him. About seeing what it felt like to step into that energy intentionally. About making him look at her the way those men had just looked at Natalia.

The clock ticked to 12:03.

Enough waiting.

Phone retrieved.

ZARA: So? Dinner tonight? We on?

Sent.

Placed face-down on the desk.

Picked up again immediately.

No response.

Locked.

Unlocked.

Still nothing.

With a dramatic sigh, Zara glanced at the Warhammer figures.

"What do you think he's waiting for?" she whispered. "Strategic consultation? Calendar alignment? A cosmic sign?"

The painted warrior, eternally mid-battle, offered no insight.

Work resumed... technically.

Fingers typed. Data entered. Tabs switched.

Efficiency, however, had plummeted. Numbers blurred again. Roy's smile intruded between spreadsheets. The feel of his hand at her waist replayed without permission.

Focus, Zara.

You are being paid.

Three more entries completed.

Then...

The Star Trek communicator chirp sliced through the cubicle like a beam of light. Heart lurching, she grabbed the phone so fast her chair squeaked.

ROY: Not tonight - already have plans. Sorry. Tomorrow?

A flicker of disappointment fluttered through her chest. Tonight would have been nice. But of course he had plans. He was important. Busy. Desired. Two other girlfriends, after all.

The thought didn’t sting. Not really. It simply required adjustment. Time management. Resource sharing. Greed would be unbecoming.

Besides...

A whole extra day.

Preparation time.

Study time.

Transformation time.

A slow, mischievous smile spread across her face.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow she could test posture. Outfit selection. Maybe even heels. Cosplay, but real. Thumbs flew over the screen.

ZARA: Tomorrow night it is! Friday date night with my man! Love you XOXOXO

Send.

Phone clutched briefly to her chest before she caught herself and set it down with exaggerated professionalism.

Across the cubicle wall, three painted warriors gleamed approvingly.

By this time tomorrow, she decided, The Sexy Girls would have nothing on her.