Chapter Text
Waverly’s feet barely touched the ground as she floated through the foyer of the tall glass office building she worked in.
She grinned, her spirits high and her chest puffed almost smugly as she waved cheerfully at the two receptionists behind the curved graphite desk.
Smug because she knew, without a remote shadow of a doubt, that every woman and most men she passed every day on her way from the wide glass doors to her desk, wanted her boyfriend.
And they couldn’t have him. Because he was hers.
At least she was pretty sure he was. They’d never specifically said they were exclusive. Or that they were in a relationship of any sorts. And it was secret.
Because he was also her boss.
So they were discreet dating. Like ‘Dirty Dancing’. He was her Patrick Swayze. Smooth, and sexy, and passionate, and secret. Except, instead of hiding it from her parents, she was hiding it from… well, everyone. Because it was necessary. He simply just couldn’t be seen to be sleeping with his staff.
So they’d never said he was her boyfriend. But they’d been dating for four months now, so surely that had to transcend the need for labels.
Right?
But even so, everything was about to change today.
Because Waverly was about to invite her ‘non-boyfriend’ boyfriend to her best friend’s wedding. That was a boyfriend thing. So when he agreed to that, which he obviously would, she'd know she could label it. She could introduce him to her friends, as her boyfriend, and then she would know. And he could take her out of her secret corner, in his own little rom-com way.
Waverly’s grin grew wider, her excited butterflies surging in her stomach as she swung into the building’s only, ancient, really slow elevator. Completely out of place in the upmarket building, but for reasons no-one seemed to be able to explain, it was the one thing the company just didn’t seem to care enough about to upgrade.
She sighed dreamily, leaning her head back against the steel panelled walls as the creaky elevator dragged its weary ass at sluggish speed up the eighteen stories towards the marketing department, and the offices Waverly worked in.
She took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her starched shirt as the elevator droned to a stop, and the painful whirring of the doors hauling themselves open began.
She’d probably get a lot more work done if she didn’t spend fifteen minutes every morning trapped in this thing, but at least it gave her time to school her giddy smile and her trembling butterflies before she faced her day, and her colleagues.
Except one. There was one colleague she didn’t have to try so hard to compose herself around.
“Well you look unacceptably chipper for 9am on a Friday morning.”
Jeremy grinned, raising his eyebrows knowingly as he leaned back in his desk chair, his feet propped up and crossed over Waverly’s desk.
“Isn’t Friday the one morning it’s acceptable to be chipper?” Waverly shrugged, shoving his converse-clad feet off of her pristine pile of colour-coded notepads.
“It’s never acceptable to be chipper before ten,” Jeremy countered, spinning elaborately on his chair as Waverly shoved him. “And in the fifteen years, three schools, and two workplaces I’ve known you through, you’ve always hated Friday mornings.”
Waverly rolled her eyes.
“They should just be the weekend already,” she grumbled.
“So what’s different today?” Jeremy pushed, grinning suggestively as he wriggled his eyebrows. “‘He-who-must-never-be-identified’ finally used the G word?”
Waverly grinned, trying her hardest to avoid her best friend’s gaze as she flopped into her chair next to him, and began organising her things on the desk in front of her.
Jeremy knew everything.
Of course he did.
He was her best friend, and along with Chrissy he had known everything about Waverly’s life since she was ten years old.
And that did not stop here. Which made Jeremy the only other person in the eighteen storey building that knew exactly why Waverly had so many project meetings with the company’s Managing Director.
“No,” Waverly sang, her lips beginning to twitch with the effort to hold back her giddy grin as she finally turned to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “But today’s the day! I’m gonna ask him!”
Jeremy halted, his eyes widening and his hand flying out to Waverly’s forearm.
“You’re gonna ask him to Chrissy’s wedding?” he hissed, his voice almost a squeak in his completely unnecessary excitement.
“Yes!”
“Oh my god, I have butterflies,” Jeremy exclaimed, low and hissed as he darted his eyes around the open plan office floor. “Do you think he’ll wear a tie? I have waited two years for the day that man finally loses the tie and opens a few shirt buttons.”
Waverly blinked.
She wrinkled her nose, tilting her head as she studied her best friend quizzically.
“What?” Jeremy laughed. “You can touch, but I can’t look?”
Waverly rolled her eyes.
"Is he in yet?" she asked, her nerves fizzing in her belly once again as she pictured the words she would say, and the answers she was so sure he was going to give.
"God knows, the blinds were down when I passed by his office this morning," Jeremy sighed, shaking his head. "Why are they always down?"
Waverly smirked.
Jeremy balked.
“Oh, god,” he groaned, scrunching his eyes closed for a moment. “ In the office? Please tell me you haven’t fucked him on the chair he makes me sit in every Monday morning briefing?”
Waverly arched a smug eyebrow, and Jeremy groaned.
“Not exactly,” she giggled. “But I wouldn’t exactly say no either.”
"Waverly?"
Waverly froze, her jaw snapping closed and her eyes widening in synchrony with Jeremy as they both spun to face the new voice in the doorway of the office.
"Morning, Jonas," Waverly sang, praying to whatever deity was watching over her that he had not been standing there more than three seconds.
“Hi, Jonas,” Jeremy waved, his voice far too loud and his smile far too wide to be considered natural for a workplace interaction at barely 9am.
Waverly kicked him under the desk.
"Chetri." Jonas nodded. He shuffled awkwardly, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned in the doorless frame between the hallway and the office. “How are the plans for the uh… the summer party?”
“Yep, everything’s under control!” Jeremy sang. “Just booked the Ferris wheel, and the DJ. Oh, and the hook-a-duck stand.”
Jonas’s eyebrows arched, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Oh! Sounds… “ he nodded, somehow managing to push his hands into his pockets despite the awkward doorframe lean, and Waverly wanted the ground to open and swallow them all. “Expensive. Can I see you in my office for a moment please, Waverly?"
Waverly winced.
Oh god, had he heard?
Was she in trouble?
She nodded, avoiding Jeremy’s eyes at all possible cost as she collected her notepad and pen, and followed Jonas silently along the hall to his office.
She bit her lip awkwardly, holding her breath as Jonas ushered her in and followed behind, his expression schooled and completely unreadable.
Until the door closed behind him, and they were alone and unwatched.
He smirked, his eyes glinting instantly as he wrapped a hand over her hip. She grinned, relaxing immediately as he pulled her close against him, his free hand reaching for the line of her jaw.
"Morning to you too, beautiful," he murmured, low and sexy as he tugged her in to kiss her. "Missed waking up with you today."
Waverly hummed, arching an eyebrow as she slipped her hands up over his chest, tangling both into the tie knotted tight at the base of his neck.
"You could have, if you hadn't left at 4am," she mumbled, fighting to keep the bitter sting from her words.
She knew why it had to be a secret.
But she was still never sure why that meant he couldn’t stay once in a while.
“Hey,” Jonas whispered, leaning back as he coaxed Waverly’s gaze to his own. He smiled, lopsided and charming, and Waverly felt the bitter sting wilt a little. "I told you baby, I just can't sleep well in your bed. You know I would if I could."
Waverly sighed softly, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.
She’d have been lying if she said she felt all that appeased, but she also never could resist when he turned his Prince Charming eyes on.
It was exactly how she’d ended up in this situation in the first place.
Well, not this time.
This time she had a question she needed to ask him, and he wasn’t gonna Patrick Swayze his way out of this one.
But she barely had time to think the words, let alone speak them.
She squeaked, gripping his shoulders instinctively as he tugged her up, easily wrapping her legs over each of his hips as he pulled her back into a hungry, immediately messy kiss.
“Why don’t you tell me how it would have gone if I had, hmm?” he murmured, his lips beginning to roam her jaw and her neck as he pushed her back onto his desk, his hips pressing hard between her thighs.
Waverly chuckled, tilting her head to the side as Jonas sought her pulse point.
Until she remembered her goal.
She pressed her hands against his chest, wriggling her thighs a little against his groping hands in the hopes he’d get the hint, and let them drop.
It wasn’t that she particularly disliked where this was going.
It was just that it was like, nine fifteen, and she'd just got to work, and she actually had a really important presentation to be working on, and she really wanted to talk to him about…
Okay, and he was hard.
She bit back another squeak as Jonas closed his fingers tight over the curves of her ass, his free hand wrapping in her hair as he began to grind almost rhythmically against her.
"Wait…" she tried, faltering as for the most fleeting of moments, he managed to just nudge his hips the right way to derail her thought train.
But not for long enough.
"Jonas?"
"Mmhmm,” he growled into her pulse point, his hips picking up their speed as he tugged harder on her ass. “Yeah, you like that baby?"
"N-no,” Waverly yelped, “actually I…"
Jonas halted immediately.
The manic, slightly unmanageable air of the past thirty seconds stiffened, and every muscle between them froze.
Jonas leaned back, uncertain eyes finding Waverly’s wide ones as she held her breath.
"No?" he repeated, his eyes washing with an unexpected flash of hurt.
Waverly’s heart lurched.
"Yes!" she blurted. "Yes, of course I do, baby, I just…"
Jonas exhaled heavily, the relief palpable in dark eyes for the bare millisecond he waited before he surged back in, his lips headed straight for Waverly’s collar line.
Waverly panicked.
She pressed her hands against his chest a second time, squeezing him hard with her thighs as she physically halted his movement.
She was all for a little close proximity, and she honestly had no complaints most of the time, but in this moment right now she just really needed his cologne, and his hands, and his eyes, and his goddamn boner to just be like, a few feet away from her for just a minute so she could think.
“What’s wrong?” Jonas huffed, his brow creasing in the middle as he pulled away again. “I thought you wanted this?”
“I do,” Waverly urged, wincing as she shifted against his boner in an effort to wriggle her skirt back down beneath her ass. "I just kinda wanted to talk to you about something first?"
"Oh!"
Jonas blinked, laughing a little sheepishly as he took a step back, and Waverly exhaled heavily in the new space to breathe and function.
"Sure. Sure, of course."
Jonas cleared his throat, visibly fighting to shift his focus as he made his way deliberately to the other side of his desk, putting the heavy oak and the barrier of their workplace roles between them.
"Uh… what can I do for you?"
Waverly sighed.
She pushed herself down from the desk, finally pulling her skirt back down around her hips as she turned to face him.
She hated this.
The immediate shift from lover to employer.
Like there was nothing in between.
She was fairly sure Patrick Swayze would have been able to hold a conversation with her without two feet of oak between them.
And without a prominent tent of pinstriped slacks.
She glanced down, arching an eyebrow at the ridiculous way it stood to attention, completely derailing Jonas’s efforts at appearing the disinterested boss.
Jonas blushed, clearing his throat as he sheepishly tucked the erection into the band of his trousers.
Waverly grinned, a little sexy and a little smug.
She couldn’t say she didn't like the reaction a little bit.
It just wasn’t her priority right now.
"I was wondering…" she started, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Jonas’s eyes carefully. "What you’re doing on the 6th August?"
"Erm… I would have to check the calendar!" Jonas frowned, leaning awkwardly over his boner as he pulled something up on his screen. "Why? You need something? You got a presentation, or a conference, or…?"
"It's a Saturday.”
Waverly cut him off.
"Oh?" Jonas frowned.
Waverly pushed on.
“My best friend’s getting married, and I have a plus one, so I thought maybe…"
She just had to rip the bandaid. Then everything would be in the open, and it would be fine. No more awkwardness.
"Well, I thought maybe you would come with me?” she breathed. “As my date?"
Jonas’s eyes widened.
He stiffened, standing upright once again as he stared, in slightly concerning bewilderment, at Waverly’s face.
Waverly’s heart sank.
"Your date?" Jonas repeated.
Waverly nodded, swallowing thickly.
"Waverly, baby," Jonas breathed. He tilted his head, those fucking Prince Charming eyes trained on Waverly’s own as he moved back around his desk, perching on the edge as he tried to coax her towards him. "Come on. A wedding?"
Waverly's throat tightened.
Jonas had barely answered her question, and yet he had already said all of the things she had prayed for weeks he wouldn't say.
She dropped her gaze, then immediately regretted it as it landed instantly on his painfully persistent, completely inappropriate bulge, no longer tucked in its safety beneath his waistband.
She slammed her eyes closed.
"No one you know will be there,” she tried, her voice unsure as she fought the words through her tightened throat. “Not except Jeremy, and he won't tell anyone. It'll be nice, you can finally meet my friends, and we can spend a whole day together."
Jonas wrinkled his nose.
"But doesn't that feel just a bit serious?"
Waverly frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"A wedding date. It just feels a bit relationshippy."
Jonas winced, and Waverly felt her stomach flame with the first sparks of humiliated heartbreak.
"Is that bad?" she whispered.
Jonas shifted, his eyes dropping for a moment, and suddenly Waverly understood everything.
How had this happened?
How had she made this mistake again?
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “It is bad.”
Jonas sighed, pushing himself up from the desk as his hand rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.
Then he spoke.
The words Waverly knew were coming. Words she had heard way too many times, from way too many people, but that never hurt any less.
"I just... I thought you knew this was just sex."
Waverly’s stomach twisted.
And in an instant, the glass shattered.
She watched his face, drawn with nerves and yet still somehow disinterested. She watched his fingers run through his over-styled hair, and his stupid tie, and his starched shirt, and his tent that was still there even while he was breaking up with her, and suddenly she couldn’t see a single thing she had ever seen in this guy.
"Just sex?" she shouted, cold anger beginning to seep its way into her veins and her voice.
Jonas shifted.
His eyes flicked nervously to the door, and then to the blinds, and the flash of nerves made sense in an instant.
He wasn’t anxious about upsetting Waverly. He wasn’t worried he was losing her.
He was shitting his tight, tented pants that she would cause a scene and he would get caught.
And in a nanosecond, Waverly was done.
"I-I thought that was the agreement," he muttered.
"In order for something to be an agreement, Jonas, both parties have to know about it,” Waverly hissed, grabbing her notepad and her pen with such gusto that Jonas flinched beside her.
Well, good.
He deserved to feel on edge.
"It doesn't have to end, baby,” Jonas tried, taking a cautious step towards her as he reached a hand out for her jawline.
Waverly swatted him away, taking an angry step backwards.
"You can still see me in here?” he suggested, arching an almost smug eyebrow. “When the blinds are closed?"
Waverly barked a laugh.
"Are you freaking kidding me?"
"No, baby.” Jonas smiled, charming and suggestive, and downright sickening. "I like having sex with you."
"So what, I'm good enough to fuck but I'm not good enough to make breakfast for in the morning?" Waverly yelled, not even bothering to control her volume as her anger surged hot through her stomach.
“Waverly, please,” Jonas hissed, his eyes widening as they shot once again to the door. “Look, baby, we can…”
"Oh, go to hell, Jonas!" Waverly snapped, turning on her heels as she made for the stupid fucking blinds and the door between them. "And take your boner with you!"
Waverly fought the tears as she stormed down the empty hallway towards the single elevator.
She needed some air before she even thought about returning to her desk, and her presentation, and the sorrowful look she could already see in Jeremy’s eyes when she was forced to tell him that yet again she had misread the signs.
Yet again she was just someone’s fucking plaything.
And yet again, she hadn’t even known it.
She growled, practically punching the ancient call button, and she collapsed against it as the creak of the elevator slowly fired up through the vibrating walls.
God, she wished they would fucking update this thing.
She punched the button a few more times, growling in frustration at the knowledge that it really wouldn’t make the blindest bit of difference.
She huffed, hauling herself up from the wall as the elevator finally clunked into place, and the doors dragged themselves open with their rusty little ding.
And she was rushed immediately by a very flustered, very dishevelled looking Ella Barker from Facilities, shaky legs wobbling a little in her high heels as she hastily rebuttoned her skewiff shirt, and wiped at the smudged lipstick across her lips.
Waverly groaned.
For fuck sake.
Again?
And now, of all times?
She sighed, gritting her teeth as she pushed into the elevator, and leaned back against the steel panels opposite an equally dishevelled, equally skewiff looking Nicole Haught in Engineering.
Her shirt was buttoned wrong, her hair was very tousled, and the missing half of Ella Barker’s lipstick was smeared rather indelicately across the column of her throat.
But to her credit, she did look a little less flustered and shaky.
Though all that did was make Waverly cringe harder.
"Is there nowhere else in the building you can do that, Haught?" she snapped, closing her eyes as the elevator doors rumbled closed.
"We both know there are plenty of other places in the building I can do that," Nicole laughed, a little cocky and a little smug. "But none are quite as fun as this is."
"Jesus, what is wrong with this company?" Waverly groaned. "And why is it a walking STD?"
She opened her eyes, then immediately rolled them as she managed to catch the last few unfortunate seconds of Nicole’s efforts to hastily wipe the lipstick stains from the base of her neck.
“I’m sorry.” Nicole blushed, her voice softer and her eyes apologetic as she shrugged awkwardly. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be a exhibitionist. People are all usually at their desks by now, and then they avoid this mineshaft until lunch. I figured it’d be empty.”
“It’s really not like it’s the first time,” Waverly sighed. “Maybe people need to just stop fucking at work, anyone ever consider that?”
She rubbed at her eyes with a finger and thumb, pinching the bridge of her nose a little as if somehow she could squeeze this goddamn day from hell from her memory.
“But then how would we get through the day?” Nicole grinned, cheeky and playful as she slumped back against the steel, lowering her stance to Waverly’s eye level. "Just work?"
Waverly narrowed her eyes.
Nicole’s grin faltered.
"Besides we weren't actually… you know. Just…"
Waverly arched an eyebrow.
Nicole pursed her lips, nodding as she fell quiet for a moment.
Waverly sighed heavily, letting her head thud back against the steel.
“You alright?” Nicole asked, her voice dropping softer. “Bad morning?”
Dark mocha eyes searched Waverly’s with far too much astute awareness, and something in the earnesty of the question just pissed Waverly off.
"Not until about thirty seconds ago," she huffed.
Nicole’s lips curled at the edges, dimples twitching as she watched Waverly carefully.
"I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a yes."
Waverly didn’t bother to reply.
It wasn’t that she had any reason to dislike Nicole Haught.
She’d just never had a full conversation with her, and she wasn’t entirely convinced she'd ever found her not in some state of post-fuck disarray.
And right now, she was not in the mood.
Those curious eyes were searching Waverly with far too much understanding for the brunette’s patience to withstand on this absolutely absurd excuse for a morning, and honestly she was starting to feel a little claustrophobic in this death trap elevator with yet another sex-obsessed Lothario.
"Douchebag finally broken the rose tinted glasses?" Nicole murmured.
Waverly’s stomach clenched.
"What?" she snapped, her blood boiling and her eyes narrowing as they fixed on Nicole’s knowing gaze.
"Jonas," Nicole stated simply, nodding her head upwards in the direction of the mess Waverly had just left behind her. "Has he finally shown his true asshole colours?"
Waverly blinked.
Then she seethed.
"Excuse me?" she laughed coldly. "Firstly, how the fuck do you know anything about that, and secondly when did I invite the engineering team to give commentary on it?"
Nicole nodded, holding her hands up in an irritatingly gentle kind of apology.
"I'm sorry," she chuckled softly. "You're right, it's not my place. You just seem upset, and I thought maybe you could use an ear."
"Well, I certainly don't need yours!" Waverly scoffed.
Nicole nodded again, finally falling quiet as she leaned back against the steadily vibrating elevator wall.
Waverly sighed heavily.
She knew full well she was being as intolerable to be riding this elevator with as Nicole was. More so, probably. But in her defense she really wasn't having a great day, and a near stranger was now telling her she knew her best kept secret.
And on that note…
"How did you know?" she huffed.
"I see it, Earp."
Waverly raised an eyebrow.
"Are we a peeping Tom as well as a Don Juan now, Haught?"
Nicole narrowed her eyes.
Then she smirked softly, shrugging her shoulders.
"The closed blinds. The impromptu meetings. The booked out conference rooms early in the morning when no one else is in yet. The eye-fucking across the company wide meetings." Nicole cocked an eyebrow, a cheeky grin dimpling her cheeks as she chuckled softly. "I know all too well how these things go."
Waverly huffed.
"Yeah, well this wasn't the same as… you."
Nicole blinked.
"I'm gonna skip over the fact that you're probably right for all the wrong reasons, and head straight to 'wasn't it?'"
Waverly faltered.
She sighed, her resolve beginning to crumble a little under her colleague's gentle persistence.
"Well, I didn't think it was," she grumbled. "Until this morning."
"Eesh." Nicole winced, her eyes flashing sympathetically for a moment. "Let me guess."
"Do you have to?" Waverly muttered, her lips twitching subtly in the first traces of dry amusement.
Nicole laughed softly, shaking her head.
"No, not if you don't want me to," she chuckled.
Waverly rolled her eyes.
"Fine, go on."
"He's been telling you you can’t be seen in public together because he's your boss," Nicole stated, her eyes still watching Waverly carefully. "He can’t do family gatherings, or meet your friends, or take you on dates, because you work together."
"Well he's not wrong," Waverly huffed.
"He is wrong," Nicole shot. "This company has no policies about dating except that any employee who dates someone in their direct management must make HR aware."
Waverly’s stomach clenched.
She hadn't known that.
She'd always just taken Jonas’s word for it.
And that in itself was annoyingly out of character for her.
"Of course you would know that," she muttered, her eyes dropping to pick at an invisible thread on her skirt.
"And so would he, he runs this 'walking STD'," Nicole retorted, her voice firmer now as her eyes kept their focus. “He holds you at arm’s length with excuses. He doesn't stay the night, he calls you baby, and never anything personal, and every time you try to talk to him, he launches immediately back into work mode."
Waverly swallowed harshly.
Nicole’s words were far too thick in her veins, rising bile in the back of her throat.
Because she was right.
Entirely, indisputably right, and Waverly’s humiliated heartbreak seared deeper.
"Am I right?" Nicole murmured.
"Why am I even listening to you?" Waverly snapped, pushing her anger in the only place it had to go in this godforsaken elevator. "You only think you know this stuff because you are every bit as bad as he is."
"Inaccurate, Earp," Nicole shot.
“How is it? You are behind some door in this building every week in…” Waverly curled her lip, her eyes dropping over Nicole with a deliberate grimace of disapproval as she gestured at the faint smudges of lipstick still lining the redhead’s throat. "In that state. Don't try to tell me that's different."
“So what, I enjoy myself," Nicole stated, the edge of frustration just tinting her words, before she reigned it in. “It’s different, because so do the women I date. Because they know it's just sex."
"Yeah, maybe you think they do," Waverly argued. "Just like Jonas thought I did."
Nicole shook her head
"I make it very clear."
Waverly huffed a humourless laugh.
"You never stop to think maybe the girls you're using are having this exact conversation with some other asshole right now?" she vented, not even bothering to keep the venom from her voice. "Telling them they wish that for just once, they could be the one calling the shots? The relationship, and not the fuck?"
Nicole fell quiet.
Waverly exhaled slowly.
She felt guilty almost immediately.
She knew absolutely nothing about Nicole Haught, and she was acutely aware that she had quite literally walked into her life on a random Friday morning, and attacked her for no reason at all.
And that hardly seemed fair.
She almost expected a retort.
She was fairly certain she deserved a snap in the tightly bound patience this woman seemed to exercise. She was sure she'd pushed this almost stranger to a limit, and she held her breath in her guilty chest as she watched Nicole’s eyes change, the cogs clearly turning behind them as she processed Waverly’s words.
The words Nicole did speak next were soft, and unaccusing, and the last ones Waverly expected.
"Why can't you be?"
"What?" Waverly frowned.
"Why can't you be the one calling the shots?"
"Please, Nicole," Waverly huffed, the back of her throat burning at the unexpected question and the utter lack of an answer that she could provide.
She swallowed, shrugging dejectedly as patient mocha eyes watched her.
Waiting.
She sighed.
"There are girls that people like Jonas chase, and there are girls who chase them."
"Then don't be the girl who chases him."
Waverly chuckled softly, shaking her head.
“Well, what else do I do?” She shrugged. “I'm just not the girl they chase.”
Nicole watched her, her eyes sparkling with something Waverly couldn't look away from for a moment.
Then she smiled, lopsided and dimpled, and Waverly dropped her gaze.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s true.”
Waverly chuckled, letting her shoulders drop as the elevator clunked, dropping finally into place on the ground floor.
“Yeah. Well.” She pushed herself off of the wall as the doors shuddered open, offering Nicole a small half-smile. A half-apology. “That’s not worth much, until someone chases me.”
She didn't bother to wait for a reply.
She pushed her way out and into the foyer, finally letting the door close behind her on her horrible morning, on Jonas, and on Nicole Haught in Engineering.