“Who set your mood on shuffle?” he teases, eyeing me from across our shared desk as I grimace from another cramp when just seconds ago, I was smiling at the memory of Grey massaging my lower back at the park.
How he leaned down and planted a kiss on my shoulder, breathing me in.
If I hadn’t already known I had a crush on him, the butterflies that erupted in my stomach at that moment would have been confirmation enough.
He background-checked me.
Is that how hackers flirt?
“Just reflecting on the weekend,” I manage, trying to ease the tension in my shoulders as I type.
“Must have been a good one,” Hendricks notes, leaning back in his chair with a curious tilt of his head.
It wasn’t a good one.
It was the best weekend I’ve ever had.
Hiking, playing with Peanut, and touching the keys of a Bösendörfer.
Not to mention that spending time with Misha and Grey filled spaces in my world that were so damn empty. And even though Oliver wasn’t there, he crossed my mind more times than I could count.
It feels a little greedy, wanting even more after such a full weekend, but that’s exactly how I feel. Like I’m missing out on something with Oliver, something that’s just out of reach.
I want to get to know him just as much as Misha and Grey.
Would asking him to go for a coffee sometime be too forward?
I chew on my lip, contemplating. It feels like it’s my turn to bridge the gap, to start a conversation that goes beyond our usual short exchanges.
I’ll shoot him a text later. Nothing big, just two friends drinking coffee.
Right?
I let the thought simmer as I refocus on the screen, the blinking cursor like a nod of encouragement.
Jamie warned me this morning that muscle soreness would peak on day two. His words echo as I shift uncomfortably, chewing on another Twizzlers for some semblance of comfort when the door opens with a knock.
Shortly after, Misha’s hands land on my shoulders, his voice low and warm by my ear. “Hey, you. Can I take you to lunch?” He plants a quick kiss on my temple, sending a flurry of butterflies through my stomach.
Fuck.
I turn to face him, and he snatches the last bit of my Twizzlers from my fingers and pops it in his mouth. “Or are we living off these today?”
“Hey, that was mine!” I protest with a pout I’m not sure is fake.
“Come on, let’s try to get some actual nutrients in your body between the sugar.” He grins, pulling me to stand. As I groan from the soreness, he jokes, “Thought I might have to give you a piggyback ride down there.”
“So not happening,” I retort, scowling, which only makes him laugh harder.
I grab my backpack and nod to Hendricks, who raises an eyebrow at Misha’s hand finding mine as we exit the office.
Oliver and Grey are already at our usual lunch spot, and food for them and us is on the table. I shoot Grey a look, trying to read his blank expression, but I catch a slight twitch of his lip as I sit down.
The same salad he has is waiting in front of me.
“Oh look, who would’ve thought I’m in the mood for salad today? Because I’m not,” I mutter, maybe a little too sharp, because Oliver reaches out and pulls my plate over to him before he pushes his in front of me—a hummus and veggie sandwich.
Much better.
