Bennett poured coffee, black, because he needed at least one thing to be predictable. Jasper took his with too much cream and not enough shame.
They sat by the window again. It had become their spot. Bennett hated that it felt familiar.
The afternoon stretched longand quiet. They worked separately but together, the rhythm of it becoming almost domestic. Bennett caught himself glancing up more often than necessary, watching Jasper work. The furrow between his brows when he concentrated. The way he bit his lower lip when reading something that required focus.
Professional interest, Bennett told himself. Understanding a colleague.
The lie was getting harder to maintain.
Around three, Jasper stood and stretched. “I’m going stir-crazy. Walk with me?”
Bennett looked at his laptop, at the emails that could wait, at the spreadsheet that didn’t actually need updating.
“Okay,” he said.
They bundled up and headed outside. The cold hit immediately, sharp and clarifying. The hotel had cleared a path around the property, and a few other brave souls were out, walking off cabin fever.
They walked in silence at first, boots crunching in the snow. The world felt muffled, peaceful in a way Bennett rarely experienced.
“You know what I realized?” Jasper said.
“What?”
“I’ve enjoyed this,” Jasper replied. “Being stuck here. With you.”
Bennett’s heart kicked. “That’s Stockholm Syndrome.”
Jasper laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just nice to spend time with someone who doesn’t require me to perform.”
Bennett glanced at him. “You perform?”
“Everyone performs,” Jasper said. “But yeah. I do. Charm is a currency. I learned to spend it well.”
“That sounds exhausting,” Bennett observed.
“It is,” Jasper agreed. “But effective.”
Bennett recognized the echo of his own words from days ago. They were more alike than he’d thought.
“You don’t have to perform with me,” Bennett said quietly.
Jasper stopped walking and turned to face him. “I know. That’s why I like this.”
They stood there in the cold, snow falling softly around them, the rest of the world feeling very far away.
He wanted to say something. Wanted to acknowledge what was happening between them. But the words stuck in his throat, tangled up with fear and uncertainty.
Jasper seemed to understand. He always understood.
“Come on,” Jasper said gently. “Let’s head back before we freeze.”
As they walked back toward the hotel, their hands brushed once. Twice. On the third time, Jasper’s pinky hooked around Bennett’s for just a moment before letting go.
It was nothing.
It was everything.
Outside,snow still covered the world, but now there were tire tracks, evidence of movement. A few people walked bundled in thick coats, heads down against the cold.
