He slows near my desk. “Hey.”
I glance up. “Hey.”
It comes out cooler than I intended. Polite. Distant.
His smile falters, just a fraction. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just swamped.” I force a laugh. “Deadlines.”
He nods slowly. “Right. I won’t keep you.”
As he walks away, the air seems to leave with him.
I stare at his back, the broad slope of his shoulders, the way he ducks his head to check his tablet, and I hate myself a little.
Because I can still feel him in every part of me. Because I’m the one pulling away, not him. Because maybe—just maybe—I’m falling in love with him, and I’m too scared to admit it.
By late afternoon, my brain completely shorts out. The report I’m writing might as well be in ancient runes. I keep glancing at the hallway, half-hoping Greg will appear, half-praying he won’t.
Franklin passes by again, humming. “You sure you’re all right, Sean?”
“I’m great!” I chirp, voice cracking like a teenager.
He squints. “You seem… jittery.”
“Just too much caffeine.” I hold up my coffee mug. Then an empty bottle of soda. Finally, the energy drink I polished off at lunch. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Great, even.”
“Uh-huh.”
He leaves, and I drop my forehead onto my keyboard.
This is a disaster.
Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I have a hot, nerdy, sweet boyfriend and a career without imploding over it?
I check my phone again. No messages. My chest churns.
When five o’clock finally hits, I pack up fast, hoping to slip out unseen. Of course, that’s exactly when Greg steps into the elevator.
Of course.
“Hey,” he says softly, like he’s not sure if I want to hear it.
“Hey,” I echo.
The elevator hums, doors closing, and I swear it’s the loudest sound in the world.
He glances over. “Did I… do something?”
My stomach flips. “What? No. You didn’t do anything.”
“Because if I crossed a line, I?—”
“You didn’t.” I cut him off, too quickly again. “It’s just… work, you know?”
“Work,” he repeats, voice neutral.
“Yeah. Gotta stay professional.”
