I can imagine the whispers, the sly looks over coffee breaks.
“I’m sure if I were a man, nobody would bat an eye, but I’m not. There would be judgement, lots of it.” I hear the desperation creeping into my voice, all my fears ballooning up into a single breath.
“Who’s gonna know?” she counters smoothly, a grin tugging at her lips.
“Ugh, you sound like Nash.”
She cuts her eyes at me. “I knew I liked him. Look, I know you have this whole thing about dating coworkers since Pierce, and I get it,” she persists, gentle yet unyielding. “But it feels like you’re still letting him hold you back.”
Her words pinpoint me with unsettling precision. I swallow hard, trapped in her all-too-accurate assessment.
“These men are not Pierce,” she continues, relentless in a way only a friend can be. “And you want both of them, so what’s really holding you back?”
I hesitate, unable to meet her eyes. The truth sits like a lump in my throat. “I just don’t want to get hurt again.” The admission lands heavily between us.
“Aw, Ave…” Her voice softens as it curls around my nickname. “Sometimes you have to risk it for the biscuit, as they say,” she says with a laugh.
I sink lower into the passenger seat, exhausted already from the day that hasn’t even started. “Since when have you ever said that?”
“Since now, apparently.” She playfully nudges my shoulder, her eyes a mix of sympathy and exasperation, the kind you can only muster for someone who keeps getting in their own way. “But seriously. Stop overthinking it for once and just do what feels good. You deserve to be happy.”
Her words hang between us, mingling with the sound of the car engine and the persistent hum of my doubts. I stare out the window, watching the city blur by, wondering how long I’ll keep punishing myself for Pierce’s choices.
My pulse races with every step toward my office, Mina’s words echoing louder in my mind than the click of my heels against the marble floor. I don’t even have time to take a breath or gather my thoughts before Nash appears in my office with a coffee, his grin too wide for the frame.
“Morning, counselor,” he says with an air of confidence that feels like a challenge. “I see you got my flowers. So what’s the verdict?”
“Very funny, Nash,” I retort, making my voice as steady as possible. “Maybe if this job doesn’t work out, you can have a successful career in comedy.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nash’s grin widens. “But then I wouldn’t be able to see you every day.”
His warmth is infectious, the smile on my lips difficult to disguise. I sigh and take my time settling in, each movement a tiny rebellion against how flustered I feel.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say, hanging my coat with deliberate slowness. “It’s messy.”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I like messy.”
I roll my eyes, unable to fully conceal my amusement. “I’m sure you do.”
Nash cocks his head, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “What’s the worst that could happen? We decide not to see each other again and go back to being coworkers?”
He pushes away from the door, taking a step closer, crowding the room with his presence.
I can feel my resolve slipping, so I pretend to examine some documents. Anything to avoid making eye contact with him.
“You’re going to be a total nightmare until I say yes, aren’t you?”
He puts a hand over his heart, his playful grin slipping into an exaggerated pout. “More like an adorable nuisance,” he protests, arching an eyebrow in mock offense. Every word is designed to disarm, to draw me closer to the edge of my carefully constructed defenses.
I let out a reluctant laugh, the sound of my enjoyment betraying me. Mina’s words replay in my head.
“Stop overthinking.”
“Do what feels good.”
“You deserve to be happy.”
And suddenly I’m giving in, almost against my better judgment. “Fine,” I say, my voice lingering between acceptance and caution. “I will have dinner with you but,” I pause to reclaim an ounce of control, “it has to be lowkey. No one can know about this.”
