We’ve crossed the line. There’s no going back now.
9
Bailey
Iwake up on Friday morning with my lips still tingling.
It’s been hours since Daniel kissed me on that terrace. Hours since I felt his hands in my hair, his body pressed against mine, his mouth doing things that made me forget my name, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo.
I shower and try to scrub away the memory. Then I dress in my carefully ironed lilac chiffon top and white pants, pulling my hair back and applying a little blush and mascara.
I almost,almost,look like someone who did not make out with her boss last night.
My eyes are too bright, and my cheeks have color that has nothing to do with the blush. I look like a teenager who spent the night replaying her crush’s kiss instead of sleeping.
I grab my coffee and my laptop and head to work early. Maybe if I’m already buried in projects when Daniel arrives, I can avoid the inevitable conversation.
The office is quiet at seven thirty. Just a few early risers are scattered across different floors. I settle at my desk and open my current project, trying to focus on color palettes and typography.
My phone buzzes. It’s Daniel.
Daniel:We should talk.
My heart skips as I stare at the message.
Me: I'm busy today. Maybe next week.
Daniel: Bailey.
Me: Working. Talk later.
I silence my phone and bury myself in work.
By nine, the office has filled with the usual morning mix. People grab coffee, settle into their routines, and start their days. Several colleagues glance at me as they pass. Their looks linger slightly longer than usual.
I wonder what they’re thinking. They probably saw photos from last night and are putting together the pieces about Daniel and me. Sarah from marketing stops by my desk around ten. “Hey, I saw you at the gala last night. You looked amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“So you and Mr. Williams are actually dating?” She sounds genuinely curious.
“We are.”
“That’s great. He seems really into you.”
My face heats. “He’s very attentive.”
“I bet.” She grins. “Anyway, I just wanted to say congrats. You two look good together.”
She walks away before I can respond.
So people are talking about me dating the CEO. That’s exactly the kind of gossip that spreads through an office. I focus harder on my work.
Gretchen texts during lunch, asking for details, but I tell her I’m swamped and promise to call this weekend.
By three, I’ve made significant progress on a hotel rebrand. By five, most people are packing up for the weekend. The office is mostlyempty by six, but my work streak isn’t ending soon. I open a new project I’ve been working on. An animated short about a girl who builds worlds out of paper. It’s still rough, just sketches and rough movement, but mine.
The hours blur together as I lose myself in the gentle rhythm of creation. This is why I wanted to be an animator—not for money or recognition but for the feeling of bringing something to life.
