“Thanks for tonight,” Jamie said. “It was…” She trailed off, but her smile filled the space where words failed.
Erin stepped closer before she could overthink it. Jamie tilted her chin up, eyes bright, and Erin leaned in.
The first kiss was soft, tentative, the press of lips careful, exploratory. Then Jamie’s hand slid around the back of Erin’s neck, tugging her closer, and the second kiss burned hotter, the kind that pulled everything else away until only warmth and want remained. Erin sank into it, her pulse hammering, her hands curling into the fabric of Jamie’s sweater as though anchoring herself.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, eyes wide with the same startled realization. They wanted more. Jamie laughed quietly, a sound edged with disbelief.
“That was…”
Erin cut her off with another kiss, hungrier this time, less restrained. Jamie met it eagerly, and for a moment Erin let herself forget the world entirely.
Then Jamie’s phone buzzed. Once, then again, insistent and jarring against the fragile bubble they had built. Jamie ignored it, but Erin forced herself to pull back just enough to murmur, “Better check.”
Jamie groaned, fumbling for her bag. She glanced at the screen, and Erin saw the shift in her face instantly. The glow of the moment dimmed, replaced by sharp focus.
“It’s the station,” she said, voice reluctant. “I’ve got to go.”
The words sliced deeper than Erin wanted to admit. The air still tasted of Jamie’s kiss, and now she had to watch her step back, pull away when everything inside Erin wanted to hold her there.
Jamie’s apology was written in every line of her face. “I’m sorry. Really. I don’t want to leave.”
Erin shook her head, forcing a small smile that did nothing to dull the achein her chest. “You’re on call. I get it.”
Jamie reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly for one lingering beat before letting go. “Next time.”
Erin stood there as Jamie slid into her car, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot. The headlights swept across Erin where she stood, then disappeared into the night.
The cool air rushed back in, the sound of the city filling her ears once more. Erin pressed her fingers against her lips, still tasting strawberry, still feeling the ghost of Jamie’s hand in hers.
Next time.
She already knew she would be counting the hours until it came.
Twenty Four
Jamie could not stop smiling. The steering wheel beneath her palms felt too small for the buzz of energy running through her, and the red lights at every intersection only made it worse. She tapped the wheel in rhythm with a song on the radio she wasn’t really hearing, her lips tingling as if Erin had kissed her only seconds ago instead of twenty minutes back.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. The call had felt like a cruel joke, slicing the night in half just when it had turned electric. She had left Erin standing in the parking lot with that quiet smile, the promise ofnext timeclinging between them like perfume she couldn’t wash off. Even now, as she pulled into the lot at the station, her chest rose with another deep, shaky breath. She wanted to turn the car around. She wanted to text Erin and say,forget work, come with me, let’s finish this night.
But she didn’t. She parked, grabbed her bag, and forced her legs to carry her through the glass doors.
Inside, the newsroom had thinned with the late hour. Only a handful of producers hovered near the assignment desk, the glow of scanners and muted televisions washing their tired faces. Jamie’s heels clicked against the linoleum, and she caught a couple of curious glances. She realized belatedly that her cheeks still ached from smiling.
She ducked her head, brushing past the cameras and monitors until she reached the editing bay. Tilly was already there, bent low over the monitors, their expression caught between concentration and irritation.
Jamie slid into the chair beside them, trying to sound brisk. “Sorry I’m late. The call came in while I was out.”
Tilly’s eyes didn’t leave the footage. “Out,” they repeated, their voice flat.
Jamie tugged her laptop open, biting back a sigh. “Yeah. Out. You know, like a person who has a life.”
That earned her a glance at last, sharp and quick. Then Tilly’s attention flicked back to the screen, as if they had dismissed her entirely.
Jamie tried to focus. She opened her notes, scanned the script outline, typed a sentence or two. But the words refused to take shape. Every line blurred into the image of Erin leaning across the table, her smile catching the glow of string lights, her voice low and steady as she teased Jamie about pasta and ice cream flavors.
Her phone buzzed in her bag, a small vibration that jolted her heart like a live wire. She yanked it out, tilting the screen away from Tilly’s line of sight.
Hope you made it back okay.
