"She's insufferable."
"She cares about you."
"She's nosy."
They stood in the midst of the half-ordered apartment, the silence that fell between them charged with an uncomfortable with a sense of tense, almost palpable atmosphere.
Dust motes drifted lazily through a shaft of late-afternoon sunlight, and the faint scent of fresh polish lingered in the air. Clara adjusted a vase on the mantel for the third time though it was perfectly straight just to give her hands something to do. Gabriel, leaning against the doorframe, watched her with the intensity of a man trying not to think about something he very much wanted to think about.
The memory of their almost-kiss, which was still vivid, hung between them, stubborn and electric.
“You have done a fine job here,” Gabriel said finally, his voice a shade rougher than he intended.
“Thank you.” Clara didn’t turn. She smoothed a wrinkle in the tablecloth that wasn’t there.
“You work hard.”
“Indeed, that is my obligation, as I am in your employ.”
He shifted his weight, clearly floundering for composure. “Indeed. Payment. Employment. Professional… things.”
She arched a brow at him, half amused, half mortified that her pulse still jumped every time he spoke. “Very eloquent.”
“Hold your tongue.”
“I defy you.”
The words escaped before she could stop them. They landed between them, bold and dangerous, echoing faintly in the quiet room. Clara froze, eyes wide, her face heating as though the sunbeam had turned on her directly.
“To be precise…” she began, too late.
“I understand perfectly well,” Gabriel said quickly, his own voice betraying him with its uneven edge.
The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words.
Gabriel finally exhaled a light laugh which resembled a groan.
“This is nonsense.”
“As we have mentioned prior,” Clara said, trying to sound dry instead of breathless.
“We are persons of discretion.”
“That fact is acknowledged.”
“Surely, we may converse on a matter with propriety.”
She crossed her arms and looked at him, her mouth twitching. “Evidence suggests otherwise.”
"What's strange about this?"
"Everything."
"Be specific."
"You're standing in the doorway as if you're afraid to enter. I'm standing by the window looking as if I might jump out of it. We're talking about talking instead of actually talking. And there's some sort of invisible barrier between us that we're both pretending doesn't exist."
"That's very specific."
