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COMPROMISED POSITION

LILA

It’s early the next morning when I find myself back in the archives.

The house is still mostly asleep. Most everyone seems to be still snoozing away except Tillie and Giles, who both operate on schedules that don’t obey human law. I’m convinced Tillie powers down only when her body physically collapses mid-task, and Giles… I don’t know. He probably roams the corridors before dawn just to inspect the dust levels. I’m pretty sure he’s never slept once in his entire employment history.

When I woke, Theo was up too, already in the shower. The sound of water hitting tile carried beneath the closed bathroom door, steady and rhythmic. I stood there longer than I should’ve, staring at the light spilling out beneath it, listening to the water and trying not to think about everything he said last night.

Been half in love with you since always.

I left before he could come out. Before I had to look him in the eye and pretend those words hadn’t split something open in me.

Maybe he won’t even remember any of it.

I flip on the desk lamp and start sifting through the catalog drawers, pretending it’s work.

I came down here to review renovation files, to trace estate access points again, to do literally anything that feels like it might be productive. In reality, I know it’s just because I needed space to gather myself before facing him.

I needed mental oxygen. Something that wasn’t his voice slurring confessions into my bloodstream.

I’m halfway finished pilfering through a dusty cabinet when footsteps echo down the hallway, headed in my direction.

I flinch when the door creaks open, the sudden sound breaking the calm that had settled over the room.

Theo hovers in the doorway, hands in his pockets. He looks exactly how a person with a hangover should—exhausted, unshaven, and unfairly hot for someone who made eye contact with the bottom of a bottle last night.

He’s in another black hoodie and jeans. It makes sense after a night like last night. Comfort first, or whatever. But there’s this small part of me that feels insanely lucky I get to see him this way, a version of Theo I’m not sure many other people ever see.

“Sorry for sneaking up on you,” he says. “I just—you were gone. And I assumed you were here.”

He pushes his big body off the doorframe and steps further into the room.

“I thought I’d give you space to recover from last night,” I say, because it’s better than admitting I was trying to avoid him for as long as possible.

He shrugs, the faintest wince crossing his face. “Trying to remember why I thought any of that was a good idea.”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “A tragic lapse in judgment.”

He huffs out something that might be a laugh, then nods toward the ledgers spread across the desk. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Just browsing,” I say, turning to the shelves before he can call me on it. He always knows when something is off. Sometimes it feels like he’s a human lie detector. My hand skims the spines of books I’m not really reading the titles of. “Thought I’d go through the old estate information again. See if anything… I don’t know, stands out.”

“Riveting.”

“I’m just being thorough.”

“You are,” he says, seemingly amused.

“Some of us find the mundane to be soothing,” I wave a hand at the shelves—at the evidence log I spent half an hour color-coding in what can only be described as an anxious spiral of productivity. “Dust, decay, and a robust filing system. What’s not to love?”

He just looks at me, and I immediately regret speaking. I’m totally babbling. “It’s relaxing,” I add, quieter, but that somehow makes it worse.

When he doesn’t respond, I freeze halfway down the row of shelves and finally turn to look at him.

He’s closer than I realized.

Much, much closer.