The shower turned off. Bennett emerged, hair damp, cheeks flushed. Jasper looked away.
“Your turn,” Bennett said.
Jasper grabbed his bag. “Try not to reorganize the room while I am gone.”
“No promises.”
When Jasper came back, the lights were dimmed. Bennett was seated at the small desk, laptop open, already working. The bed remained untouched; neither of them wanted to be the first to claim it.
“You don’t have to keep working,” Jasper said.
“I do.”
“You will burn out.”
“I will manage.”
Jasper watched him for a moment. “You are allowed to exist without optimizing every second.”
Bennett’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “I am existing just fine.”
“Are you?” Jasper asked quietly.
Bennett looked up. Something passed between them. Not anger. Not quite.
Vulnerability, maybe.
Then Bennett looked away. “We should order food.”
Jasper smiled to himself. “I will handle it.”
They ate sitting on opposite sides of the bed, knees almost touching. The conversation drifted, light and easy despite itself. Work stories. Travel disasters. A shared hatred of team-building exercises.
“Worst work trip before this?” Jasper asked.
Bennett considered. “Dubai. Three years ago. Food poisoning the entire week. Still had to present.”
“That’s either dedication or masochism.”
“Both,” Bennett admitted. “You?”
“Stuck in an airport in Prague for eighteen hours,” Jasper said. “Missed my best friend’s wedding.”
Bennett winced. “That’s worse.”
“It was,” Jasper agreed. “But he forgave me. Eventually.”
They fell quiet, the easy rhythm of the conversation settling into something more comfortable. Bennett found himself relaxing in ways he usually didn’t around colleagues. Especially not Jasper Quinn.
“Can I ask you something?” Bennett said.
“Always.”
“Why do you do this?”
Jasper tilted his head. “Eat hotel food?”
“No,” Bennett said. “Why do you make everything look easy?”
