The elevator doors slide shut with a soft ding, trapping us inside alone after hours. It’s just me and Riley from marketing—new hire, three months in, always in those sharp blouses and pencil skirts that hug curves I can’t stop noticing. I’ve been calling her “she” since day one because… well, she presents that way. Soft voice, long dark hair, full lips painted red, heels that click like they’re announcing royalty. Everyone assumes. I assume.

We’re both heading down from the ...