But not out of panic. Out of anticipation.
The good kind. The kind you feel right before stepping onstage. Or into a fight.
I shower. I shave. I choose a shirt that’s crisp but not rigid. I don’t wear the jacket I initially grab, too formal. I roll my sleeves twice, purposeful, intentional, relaxed.
She gets nervous when I’m too powerful. I like her nervous. But not scared.
I skip breakfast. My chest is too tight with focus.
I spend the morning reviewing notes I don’t need to review. I adjust the lighting again. I sit in my chair and imagine her in the one beside mine.
Close. Warm. Soft.
She doesn’t know what I plan yet.
Not anything physical. Not yet.
But today I’ll push the line just a little further.
A touch of her wrist when I pass her a paper. A lean-in when she makes a point. A “good” murmured close to her ear.
Small moves.
Deliberate ones.
I check my watch.
10:58am.
She’ll be here soon.
And I’m ready.
EVAN
Evan has been in a mood all day.
The kind of mood that makes interns avoid eye contact. The kind that makes his coffee taste wrong. The kind that makes him nearly slam his keyboard twice.
He doesn’t know why he’s this angry.
He does.
He just won’t admit it.
He saw Ruby yesterday in the CEO’s office. Saw her flustered. Saw Cole watching her like she was something he owned.
And Evan’s stomach twisted.
He tells himself it’s just concern.
It’s not.
He tries to work. But his eyes keep sliding to the clock.
10:45am.
10:51am.
