It’s nice to feel remembered.
Pulling the bow away and opening the package, I bite into one of the Twizzlers.
Pure goodness.
“It’s not even eight a.m. You’re worse than Willow,” Hendricks says with exasperated amusement.
“It’s never too early for Twizzlers,” I declare around a mouthful.
We settle into our morning routine, the comfortable clack of keyboards filling the space between us. My mind occasionally drifts, weaving through lines of code and replaying Grey’s hug, each replay sending a small thrill through me.
God, I need to stop this.
A few hours later, the shrill sound of my alarm breaks through the quiet hum of focused work. It’s a reminder I set specifically for today. It’s not just about taking a break from the code in time but managing my own expectations and emotions on a day that’s always a tightrope walk of feelings.
I sit back in my chair, stretching my neck and rolling my shoulders to ease the tension that’s built up over the morning. I want to head down to the cafeteria early today. Grey was with me last night, so there’s no need for a lunchtime catch-up on the beta progress. And nobody asked if I wanted to go to lunch.
Sitting here waiting for them, and they don’t come?
Yeah, no, thank you.
“Later,” I tell Hendricks, who doesn’t even look up from his screen as I gather my stuff, clutching the packet of Twizzlers, and head out. As I pass the aquarium, I can’t help but smile.
Eight more down.
That’s one hundred percent more than last time and twelve in total now. Like, if I had a tiny football team of neon tetras, I’d have one spare player.
I stride toward the elevator and can’t resist peeling open the packet. I take out another Twizzlers, biting into it. Since it’s my birthday, I’m allowed dessert before lunch.
The elevator dings just as I approach, and as the doors slide open, I’m greeted by the sight of OMG inside.
“Hey, perfect timing,” Misha exclaims, his energy infectious as always as he pulls me into the elevator before casually draping his arm around my waist. “You look super pretty today,” he compliments, and I feel my pulse picking up at his words and proximity. “Doesn’t she look pretty today, Oliver?” he adds, glancing over at him.
Oliver looks down at his shoes briefly before meeting my gaze. “You’re always beautiful,” he murmurs.
My heart skips a beat.
Does he really think that?
“Of course she is, but I like her hair today,” Misha mutters, reaching for one of the waves. He twirls the strand between his fingers when he notices the packet of Twizzlers in my hand. Chuckling, he snags one of them. “Oh, I love these, thanks!”
“Sure, help yourself,” I reply, rolling my eyes but smiling nonetheless.
I extend the packet to Oliver. “Want some?”
He takes one with a grateful smile, sending another unexpected flutter to my heart.
Ugh, a crush on two of them? Really, Amelia?
I turn to offer one to Grey, who’s been unusually quiet, maybe too quiet, observing from behind.
Is he mad at me?
But before my thoughts can spiral more, he accepts it with a soft “Thank you, Princess,” and my heart does that ridiculous little flip again.
Fuck.
Misha, oblivious to my inner turmoil, asks, “So we leave you two alone for one evening, and there are already cutesy little nicknames?” I shrink under his teasing, pulling my shoulders in, but he just squeezes me closer, laughing as the elevator dooropens, and we step out. “Grey said you guys made lasagna. I’m hurt I didn’t get to try some. You know I love food, especially stuff Grey—” Misha sways as he walks, animated and expansive, causing me to steady myself by reaching around him and holding onto his waist. He stops midsentence, turns his head, and grins at me. “Hey, there.”
