Finally, my eyes land on Ethan. He’s still wearing his coat, and his is hair slightly wind-tousled. He scans the crowd withthat calm focus that always makes my stomach flip. His looks tired. Handsome. Real.
My heart stutters.
He spots me.
His face softens instantly.
And just like that, the room gets quieter.
He crosses the space between us with purpose, stopping close to me. Close enough that I catch his familiar scent, spice and warmth.
“Hey,” he says, voice low. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You made it,” I say, a little breathless. “That’s… good.”
His gaze flicks over me, quick, but appreciative. “You look beautiful.”
I laugh nervously. “You have to say that.”
“I don’t,” he replies. “But I mean it.”
Heat floods my face.
“Crowded?” he asks gently.
“Yes,” I admit. “Very.”
He nods like that confirms something. “Come with me.”
He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t have to. I follow him instinctively as he leads me toward a quieter corner near the back, away from the clusters of coworkers, away from the worst of the noise.
I immediately feel better, calmer. But that might just be his presence. “Thank you,” I say.
“Anytime,” he replies. “My roommate used to say the trick was finding the calm pocket.”
I smile at that. “You remembered.”
“I remember a lot,” he says, eyes steady on mine.
For a moment, it’s just us. The lights and the hum of distant conversation fade away. The air between us feels charged and heavy.
Ethan blinks, clears his throat, and looks away. “So,” he says. “Have you picked out your exit strategies?”
“How did you know?”
He smiles, looking out at the crowd. “My roommate used to do the same.”
My heart drops when he won’t make eye contact with me anymore. I really did read too much into the moment in the coffeeshop. And now he’s realized that I read too much into it and is trying to distance himself.
“This party is weird,” I blurt.
He chuckles. “Midweek was a bold choice.”
“Cheap venue,” I say. “And people won’t drink as much from the open bar if they have to go to work the next day.”
He laughs softly, and the sound does something dangerous to my insides. I force myself to let go of my childish wishful thinking and focus on just enjoying the moment.
We stand there, talking about nothing and everything, work, travel, the absurdity of mandatory fun. I forget to be nervous. Forget to check exits.
