30
Amanda woke to the soft gray light of morning leaking through the curtains.
She blinked against it, her head a little foggy but not pounding—thankfully. The taste of last night's tequila still lingered faintly on her tongue, and her limbs felt heavier than usual, the kind of weight that came from emotional exhaustion more than physical.
For a moment, she didn't move.
Then she remembered.
Ericka.
The text. The knock. The late-night not-quite-conversation on her couch.
She sat up slowly, the blanket sliding off her shoulders as she rubbed at her eyes.
Her heart immediately kicked up in her chest as she turned her head.
The couch beside her was empty.
Amanda frowned and looked around the living room. Ericka's coat was gone. No note. No message.
Just... gone.
She chewed on her bottom lip, trying not to read into it. She'd said she'd stay "just for a little while." She probably left quietly to avoid waking her, the way someone like Ericka would.
Still, the silence in the apartment felt louder than it had before.
Amanda reached for her phone and checked her messages. Nothing new.
She sighed, flopping back onto the couch with a groan. "Awesome. That's not awkward at all."
Part of her knew better. Ericka wasn't a morning-after type of woman. She was guarded, composed, always five steps ahead. Last night had been a break in the usual rhythm—Amanda could feel it even now.
But the vulnerability? The stillness they'd shared? That wasn't nothing.
And Amanda couldn't pretend she hadn't wanted her to stay longer.
She sat there for a few more minutes, then forced herself to her feet. She needed a shower, some coffee, and probably a serious conversation with herself in the mirror.
As she moved to the kitchen, her phone buzzed.
Her heart did that stupid flip again.
Ericka: Didn't want to wake you. But thank you for last night.
Amanda read it three times, her stomach flipping every single one.
Short. Simple. But honest.
And it made her smile.
She typed back:
Amanda: You say that like you didn't make my entire week more confusing.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then returned.
Ericka: Would it help if I said it was confusing for me too?
Amanda stared at the screen, lips slowly curving upward.
Amanda: Actually... yeah. It kind of would.
Amanda: So now what?
She hesitated before sending it. But... it was fair to ask. They'd crossed a line. Maybe not with words or actions, but with everything left unsaid that still hung in the air.
A moment later, her phone buzzed.
Ericka: You tell me.
Amanda huffed a laugh, sipping her coffee. Of course Ericka would flip the question back on her.
Amanda: Classic CEO move. Make the assistant do all the heavy lifting.
Ericka: Delegation is a skill.
Amanda shook her head, her smile soft.
Amanda: Okay, then. How about... we don't overthink it.
This time, the reply came quickly.
Ericka: I like that idea.
Her phone buzzed again.
Ericka: I'm assuming you're still alive and moderately caffeinated?
Amanda smirked, already typing.
Amanda: Barely alive. Extremely caffeinated. Why, miss me already?
There was a pause—long enough to make her wonder if she'd gone too far.
Then:
Ericka: Wouldn't admit it if I did.
Amanda snorted. Classic.
Amanda: Coward.
Ericka: Flirt.
Amanda stared at the word for a second, her smile faltering just slightly as heat crept into her cheeks.
She thought back to the way Ericka had looked at her on the couch. The way her voice had softened.
This was new ground.
Uncharted.
But neither of them seemed in a rush to turn back.
She took another sip of coffee and texted:
Amanda: I'll see you Monday. Try not to fire me for texting you while drunk.
Ericka: You're safe. For now.
Amanda: Good. I've got work to do. Like figuring out if you're secretly soft under all that power-suit energy.
This time, the response came slower.
Then—
Ericka: I guess you'll have to keep looking.
Amanda let out a quiet laugh, leaning back into the cushions.