As I was talking myself out of adding the calendar to my list of ideas to send to Dr. Haynes, something caught my eye. Senior outreach. As in the elderly, not this year’s graduating class. That would be perfect! Oakley could go to the senior center for one afternoon, play some board games, help serve a meal, and keep the residents company. I could arrange for a photographer and a blogger from the university, and everything could be wrapped up in only a couple of hours.

I put the senior center at the top of my list, along with packing meals for starving children and Habitat for Humanity. I typed out a quick message to Dr. Haynes, including how I was excited to hear feedback from his meeting with Oakley, and hit send. I glanced at my Fitbit, both to see the time and how many steps I had taken so far. I had time to power walk to the cafeteria to grab a salad and then make it to my next class.

9

“This place smells like urine and perfume,” Oakley grumbled while I slapped a name tag onto his muscular chest. I smoothed the sticker a little bit more than I had to and blamed the lingering touch on my lack of sleep the night before. I had three papers due and a test in sports management. Even though most of my time was allocated to this internship, my other classes were kicking into full gear too.

“And you smell like Cheetos and boxed wine,” I replied with an eye roll and pulled away. “How late were you out last night?”

“I figured you knew. Weren’t you up late watching the GPS on my phone?” I could have slapped the teasing grin off his perfect face. But I didn’t.

Instead, I rolled my eyes again. He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t trying to intrusively break our rules about space and privacy. Dr. Haynes made it clear that I needed to respect his boundaries and work within the constraints of his lifestyle. We were meant to clean up messes, not completely prevent them from happening. We could guide and inform but not control our clients—just control how the public perceives them. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t constantly refreshing his social media to make sure a sex tape wasn’t leaked. How Oakley Davis partied this hard while staying in pristine shape was seriously a mystery to me.

“You got home two hours ago and still managed to show up on time. I’d say I was impressed, but we both know I set four hundred alarms on your phone. Are you even sober?”

“I’m sober enough,” he purred, licking his lips.