32
The elevator ride back up to the office was quiet, but it wasn't the awkward kind. It was the kind of silence that came after something... warm. Settled.
Amanda stood beside Ericka, arms crossed loosely, still feeling the hum of the conversation they'd shared over lunch. It hadn't been heavy or full of dramatic confessions, but something had shifted between them—something subtle, something real.
When the elevator doors opened to their floor, the energy felt lighter somehow. Ericka paused just past the threshold and looked around the space like she was seeing it through fresh eyes.
Maybe she was.
Amanda returned to her desk, ready to dive into the rest of the day's work. But only a few minutes later, Ericka's voice carried across the room.
"Everyone can head out early."
Heads popped up like prairie dogs.
"What?" someone asked from a few cubicles over.
Ericka raised her brow. "You heard me. It's been a productive day. Take the win."
A mix of surprise, excitement, and mild confusion swept through the office. No one questioned it too hard. Bags were packed, goodbyes were called out, and in a matter of minutes, the floor was clearing.
Amanda stood and peered into Ericka's office. "You're feeling generous today."
Ericka didn't look up from her laptop. "Don't make it weird."
Amanda grinned. "Too late."
As her coworkers filtered out, Amanda stayed behind, the sound of shuffling feet and closing elevator doors giving way to the familiar hum of overhead lights.
She liked the quiet. It gave her space to think—and finish things uninterrupted.
She pulled out a few files and sat back at her desk, tying up the final threads of a presentation Ericka had coming up later that week. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, brain on autopilot, but her thoughts?
Still trailing back to that lunch.
The way Ericka looked at her like she was letting her guard down without ever saying it out loud.
The way she didn't pretend.
Amanda smiled to herself.
She didn't mind staying late.
Because today felt different.
________________________________________________
The office was still, emptied of its usual noise, but Amanda felt more awake than she had all day.
After hours in front of a screen, she needed something tactile. Something that reminded her why she had fallen in love with this industry in the first place.
So, instead of grabbing her bag and heading home like she should have, Amanda wandered into the design room.
The second she stepped inside, the air felt different. Calmer. Electric in its own quiet way.
She flicked on a single warm overhead light, casting a soft glow over the scattered fabrics, sewing machines, and mannequins lined up like statues waiting for attention.
She didn't hesitate.
Her hands moved with muscle memory—selecting a roll of deep emerald silk from the shelves, smoothing it over the long table, grabbing a mannequin from the corner and wheeling it into the center of the room.
She didn't plan anything. She just felt.
A fitted silhouette. Open back. High neckline. Subtle slit. Effortless elegance.
A little bold. A little daring.
Completely hers.
She pinned and shaped the fabric, adjusting folds here and there until the form began to take shape. The dress was simple in design but stunning in execution. It shimmered softly under the light, hugging the mannequin's curves like it was meant to live there.
Amanda stepped back slowly, chest rising and falling as she took in what she'd created.
Then—
A sound.
Not loud. Just the soft click of a shoe against tile.
She turned around instinctively, and her breath caught.
Ericka stood in the doorway, partially tucked in the shadows, watching her.
Amanda hadn't heard her approach. Didn't even know she was still in the building.
But there she was.
Still in her heels. Still in that sharp navy suit. But her expression wasn't guarded like usual. It was open. Quiet. Curious.
Amanda blinked. "How long have you been standing there?"
Ericka stepped into the light, her eyes flicking from Amanda to the dress. "Long enough."
Amanda crossed her arms, suddenly aware of the pins stuck in her blouse, the chalk on her hands, the way her heart had just leapt into her throat.
"I, uh... I just needed to make something," she said. "Something that didn't have an agenda or a deadline."
Ericka's gaze moved back to the dress, and she took a step closer. "It's beautiful."
Amanda looked at her, surprised. "You think so?"
Ericka nodded slowly. "I do."
There was something in her voice—something softer than Amanda was used to.
She stepped beside Amanda now, close enough that Amanda could feel the warmth of her, but not touching.
"I didn't know you designed," Ericka said.
Amanda shrugged. "I don't. Not lately. It's easy to forget when everything becomes about keeping schedules and answering emails."
Ericka looked at her, quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "Don't forget again."
Amanda met her eyes, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity.
"I won't," she said.
_________________________
The hum of the city outside barely reached them. Inside the softly lit design room, time had folded in on itself. Amanda stood still, heart skipping in a rhythm she couldn't tame, while Ericka's gaze lingered on the dress—and then drifted back to her.
It wasn't the silence that unnerved Amanda.
It was the way Ericka was looking at her.
Like she was seeing more than just a talented assistant with chalk-stained hands.
Like she was seeing the woman behind all the careful professionalism.
"I didn't mean for anyone to see it," Amanda said quietly, almost as if she was confessing a secret.
Ericka's lips curved gently. "Then I'm glad I stayed."
Amanda didn't know what to say to that.
The compliment was more than about the dress.
And they both knew it.
Ericka took another slow step toward the mannequin, fingers ghosting over the smooth silk like she didn't want to disturb it. "If this were in our next collection... it would steal the show."
Amanda let out a breathy laugh. "It's not even finished."
"It doesn't need to be."
Amanda blinked. Her face felt warm. "That's dangerously close to flattery."
Ericka tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eye. "And if it is?"
Amanda stepped closer, just enough that the air between them grew heavier, warmer. "Then I might start to think you see me as more than your assistant."
Ericka held her gaze. "I never only saw you as my assistant."
Amanda's breath hitched.
The room went still again, but it wasn't empty. It was full—of emotion, of timing, of a connection that was finally stepping into the light.
"I should go," Ericka said softly, but she didn't move.
Amanda nodded, her voice just above a whisper. "Yeah. You probably should."
But neither of them moved.
They stood there in the quiet, the tension between them just shy of breaking.
Then Ericka's phone buzzed from somewhere in her coat pocket. The spell broke, gently, but unmistakably.
She blinked, stepped back, and cleared her throat. "Don't stay too late."
Amanda gave a small smile. "No promises."
Ericka turned to go, pausing in the doorway. "And Amanda?"
"Yeah?"
Ericka looked over her shoulder. Her voice was low, smooth, and something about it sent goosebumps along Amanda's arms.
"You should keep designing."
And then she was gone.