11. Skye #2
He didn’t touch me. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t leave a mark.
By the time I get home, my feet are sore, my blouse is wrinkled, and my thoughts are a complete disaster.
I toss my shoes somewhere near the door, shed my work clothes in a trail of fabric through the apartment, and collapse onto the couch wearing only a bra and underwear that have definitely seen better days.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table.
It’s Maya, of course.
I swipe to answer and flop my arm over my eyes like I’m preparing for death by emotional exposure. “If you’re calling to check in, I’m fine.”
“You’re lying,” she says without preamble. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I mutter. “That’s the problem.”
“Define ‘nothing.’”
“I stayed late. He stayed late. We talked.”
A pause. “Define ‘talked.’”
“Like normal people. With words. From appropriate distances.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious,” I say, sitting up and grabbing the half-empty water bottle from the floor. “No touching. No crossing lines. Just mutual avoidance of deeply inappropriate choices.”
“Did you at least say something?” she asks. “About the gallery? About the way he looked like he wanted to rip that dress off with his teeth?”
I press the cool plastic to my cheek. “Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“I told him I didn’t know if I was reading into things. If maybe he was just… naturally intense.”
“And what did he say?”
I hesitate. “That I wasn’t imagining it.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So you had a moment.”
“We almost had a moment,” I correct. “Then he stepped back and told me to go home.”
“Oof,” she finally says. “That’s rough.”
“Yeah.” I fall back against the cushions. “And I didn’t even get a goodbye grope out of it.”
“Okay, but… that’s not nothing, Skye. He admitted it . He didn’t deny what’s between you.”
“No. He just looked at me like I was a terrible decision and walked away anyway.”
Maya exhales through the phone. “Shit. And here I was thinking we’d be planning your scandalous HR trial defense by now.”
“Guess I’ll have to save my opening statement for another day.”
There’s a beat, and then her voice softens. “Can I ask you something, and you promise not to yell at me?”
“Debatable, but go ahead.”
“What do you expect him to do? Kiss you? Have a one-night stand?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I don’t know. This is stupid, Maya.”
“Is it or did he just get scared?”
“I think we both got scared.”
“That’s fair. But only one of you walked away.”
My eyes sting, and I hate it. “I wanted him to kiss me.”
“I know.”
“And I wanted him to stop me when I left. Or call me. Or… I don’t know. Acknowledge that we’re both drowning in this thing.”
“He’s still trying to pretend he’s on dry land, babe. And you’re out here swimming laps.”
I groan. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m serious,” she says. “I’ve seen you do casual. Seen you do fun. But this? You’re spiraling. You’ve got that glowy, ‘this could ruin me and I’d thank him for it’ energy.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “Oh my God, that’s taking it a little far. It’s just a stupid crush on the guy.”
“You’re not just attracted to him, Skye. You like him. That’s the dangerous part.”
“I’m not doing this,” I whisper. “He’s my boss. This is temporary. And Archer?—”
“Stop.” Her voice goes sharp. “Do not bring Archer into this.”
“He’s his son whom I dated and lost my virginity to; he’s already in this!”
“I’m aware. I also remember that Archer broke your heart and hasn’t looked back.”
“That doesn’t mean I should sleep with his father. I’m not that vindictive.”
She pauses. “But you want to.” The silence between us is immediate and thick.
“I want something,” I finally say. “I don’t know if it’s sex or…
validation or comfort or just feeling wanted for once, but it’s not nothing.
It hasn’t been nothing since he said my name the first time.
I’m just still reeling from the whole Shane thing and maybe you were right; I just need a rebound fling to move on. That’s all it is.”
“Skye,” she says softly. “I think maybe this is the first time since Shane that you’re feeling something. And that’s not a bad thing. But you need to make sure you know what you’re doing if you let these little feelings turn into big feelings…”
My stomach flips. I’m not falling for the man, I barely know him, but there is something about the way he notices me, notices my effort and contributions. A secret little fling is one thing but wanting anything beyond that is when things could get really messy, especially with Archer.
“Even if it’s totally wrong?”
“There’s wrong. And then there’s complicated. And this?” she says. “This feels like complicated with a heartbeat.”
I close my eyes, pressing the cool water bottle to my temple. “I don’t know if I’m ready to feel anything.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “But don’t lie to yourself about what this is. Or who he is. Because you already know.”
We talk for another ten minutes, mostly her reminding me to hydrate and me promising not to accidentally climb Reece Blackwood like a tree in the break room. When we hang up, the apartment is quiet again. Too quiet.
I sit in the stillness, the soft hum of the refrigerator my only company. I tell myself I’m fine. That I’ll get over it. That tomorrow I’ll be polished and professional and indifferent.
But I remember the way he looked at me when I asked, Am I reading too much into this?
I remember the tension in his jaw. The heat in his silence. You didn ’ t imagine it .
He didn’t have to say it. But he did. And that’s the part I don’t know how to forget.