37
The office was moving at its usual brisk pace—interns darting in and out of meeting rooms, the hum of morning calls echoing off sleek glass walls. But inside Ericka's corner office, everything was calm. Focused.
Amanda moved through the space with practiced precision, checking everything off her mental list. She set Ericka's coffee down gently, organized the files for her 10 a.m. meeting, adjusted the lighting near her desk, and placed a printed summary of the updated supplier terms just within reach.
"You're set for the next few hours," Amanda said, straightening a stack of papers with a soft thump. "Let me know if you need anything between meetings."
Ericka, already mid-email, nodded without looking up. "Thank you."
Amanda hesitated for half a second. The night before was still fresh in her mind—how Ericka had rested against her, how she'd let her walls down without saying a word. But today? Today, she was back in her zone. And Amanda respected that.
With one last glance to make sure everything was in place, Amanda slipped out of the office and returned to her own desk.
She settled in, took a quiet breath, and opened her sketchbook.
It wasn't part of her job—not officially. But the design room had always sparked something in her, and Ericka had never told her not to sketch. In fact, Amanda had caught her glancing at a few of her designs once or twice, though she never commented.
Today felt like the kind of day that needed a little creativity.
So while emails trickled in and the office kept moving, Amanda let herself drift into lines and shapes and flow.
She sketched silhouettes that balanced softness and strength, form-fitting ideas with clean movement.
Fabric notes filled the margins. Soft pleats. Structured shoulders. Cool, deep tones.
She didn't even realize how much time had passed until her tablet buzzed with a calendar reminder.
Meeting in twenty.
Amanda closed her sketchbook with a small, satisfied smile. It felt good to create something—even quietly, behind the scenes.
She stood, grabbing her tablet, prepared to step back into assistant mode.
But before she walked away, she paused.
One of the sketches—strong lines, confident posture, striking but understated—
It reminded her of Ericka.
Amanda tapped the page once with her finger, then slid the sketchbook into her bag.
One day, maybe she'd show her.
_______
The design team meeting wrapped up exactly on time—no surprise there, not with Ericka running the room. Amanda stood along the wall, tablet in hand, taking quiet notes while keeping a subtle eye on her boss.
Ericka was sharp, as always. Clear, concise, impossible not to pay attention to. She cut through fluff like a blade and still somehow managed to leave space for ideas to breathe. It was the kind of leadership people didn't argue with—they just followed.
But Amanda noticed something else, too.
Every so often, Ericka's gaze flicked toward her. Just a second. Just enough. Like she was checking in, even while commanding the room.
Amanda didn't react. She simply nodded at the right moments, handed over the necessary files, and kept her face perfectly neutral. But inside, her stomach flipped every time it happened.
After the meeting, people shuffled out in waves, designers chattering about cuts and colors and deadlines. Ericka remained at the head of the table, reviewing a few last slides with the lead designer.
Amanda waited just outside the door until the others were gone. Then she stepped in, wordlessly handing Ericka a summary of the team's follow-up tasks.
Ericka took it without looking up. "Anything else?"
Amanda hesitated. "Actually... yes."
That earned a glance.
"I, uh... may have worked on a few ideas this morning. Just sketches," Amanda said casually, though her heart thudded. "Nothing formal."
Ericka set the file down, brows slightly raised. "Let me see."
Amanda blinked. "Now?"
Ericka's tone didn't change. "You brought it with you, didn't you?"
Amanda smirked, pulling her sketchbook from her bag. "Fine, but you don't get to roast me."
She flipped to the pages she'd marked—strong silhouettes, fluid lines, all drawn with the quiet kind of care that came from watching someone closely.
Ericka was silent as she looked. Her gaze scanned each page with quiet focus, lips parted just slightly in thought.
Amanda's confidence wavered. "I know they're rough, but I thought—"
"They're good," Ericka said, still flipping. "Really good."
Amanda blinked. "Wait... seriously?"
Ericka glanced up, meeting her eyes. "I wouldn't lie about design."
Amanda laughed, half in disbelief. "You barely compliment people on finished collections."
"Well, I'm complimenting you now." Ericka paused, closing the sketchbook carefully. "Don't stop doing this."
Amanda felt warmth crawl up her neck, but kept her expression level. "Okay. I won't."
Ericka stood then, handing the sketchbook back. "And if you're up for it... bring a few of those into the design review next week."
Amanda froze. "Are you serious?"
"You've got an eye," Ericka said. "Let's see where it goes."