It wasn't until later that I found out Owen had gynophobia—an extreme fear of women. Megan didn't want some burly guy taking care of him, so she chose me for the job.
I looked down at my flat chest and then at my delicate features in the mirror. With some effort, I can pass as a man, right?
On interview day, my nerves were through the roof. I felt like, at any moment, someone might demand I drop my pants to prove my gender.
Luckily, Owen wasn't too severe in his assessment, and Megan sang my praises to the heavens. In the end, I got the job and moved into Owen's mansion, sharing meals and living space and sometimes even sleeping under the same roof—though not in the same room, of course.
Life was pretty smooth until one day, I was humming a tune, carrying my freshly washed pink strawberry panties out of the bathroom, and walked straight into Owen.
My brain went into overdrive, scrambling for an explanation.
Before I could speak, Owen gave me a strange look. His face twisted into an awkward expression as he patted my shoulder. "Say no more. Everyone has their quirks. I get it."