My breath hitches. I swear I feel him tense for a fraction of a second, but he doesn’t move away.
Neither do I. The lo-fi beats in the background suddenly feel too soft, too intimate.
Slowly, I turn my head and Troy’s face is right there. Close enough that I can see the way his lashes frame his ice-blue eyes, the way the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smirk.
His gaze flickers down—to my lips.
Holy.
Fuck.
Too long. Too quiet.
Even the books seem to go still,or still-er, like the whole damn room is holding its breath.
I should move. Say something. Blink.
Instead, I freeze, the box heavy in my hands and the air between us somehow heavier.
Troy shifts closer, just enough that I catch the scent of his cologne—clean, warm, something I don’t have a name for but suddenly want to memorize. His fingers brush mine as he passes over the last folder, the contact brief but electric. Warm. Too deliberate to be an accident.
“You got it, Greer?” His voice is low. Rough around the edges.
It hits somewhere deep in my stomach.
I look up. He’s watching me. Not in that smug, teasing way he usually does.
This is different.
Sharper. Hungrier. Curious in a way that makes me feel like I’m not entirely safe—and not entirely sure I want to be.
My mouth is dry.
“Yeah,” I say quickly. Too fast. Too loud. My voice cracks slightly at the end, and I hate that he hears it.
He doesn’t move.
Troy lingers, eyes flicking from my mouth to my eyes and back again, like he’s waiting for me to do something. Say something. Stop him.
I don’t.
For a second, I think he’s going to close the distance. Just one step. That’s all it would take.
Then, just like that, he steps back.
The air between us breaks. I inhale too sharply, like I’m surfacing from underwater.
He grins. That infuriating, perfect grin that makes people underestimate him. That makes girls fall in love.
“Careful, Mittens,” he says, picking up another box like he didn’t just almost rearrange the molecules in my body. “Wouldn’t want you getting flustered on the job.”
I want to punch him. I want to kiss him.
Mostly, I want to go back to two seconds ago and see what would’ve happened if I hadn’t looked away.
But instead, I roll my eyes. Pretend I’m fine.
He’s back to being annoying.
