I dig around for the wrench—not that I’m really trying. When I stand, she’s drifted toward my desk, eyes fixed on the cluster of polaroids pinned above it.
“This your camp crew?” she asks, glancing back.
“Yeah.” I move closer, careful, like the floor might creak and break the moment.
“Started going in middle school. Ended up a counsellor.”
She points to a photo of me in a kayak, hair drenched, grinning like I’d just robbed a bank. “You look like a ten-year-old model.”
“What can I say?” I smirk. “Some of us peak early.”
She huffs out the tiniest laugh. Barely-there. But I catch it.
I take one step closer. Standing behind her, not touching. Close enough to see the gold in her eyes. Close enough to want to tuck that loose strand of hair behind her ear and?—
No.
Stop.
Don’t bethatguy. She’s made it clear she’s not into me like that. And yeah, maybe we’ve been flirting—lightly, safely, mostly for the bit—but that doesn’t mean I cross a line.
Then she turns her head slightly, voice low, teasing.
“You always bring girls up here to talk about hardware?”
I grin.
“Only the difficult ones I’m trying to impress with my… tool expertise.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile sticks.
And I know—know—if I moved just an inch closer, she wouldn’t stop me.
Which is exactly why I don’t.
She blinks, slow. Her gaze drops to my mouth.
And suddenly I’m one heartbeat away from doing the exact thing Ijusttold myself I wouldn’t. A beat of silence.
“You got your wrench. Let’s go,” she says, voice clipped.
I nod.
We don’t move.
She swallows. My heart kicks.
Still—no one moves.
Then, finally, she spins and walks out.
I exhale. Drag a hand through my hair.
What the actual fuck was that?
I'm halfway to following her when she spins back around.
"Hey, you know what—no!"
