Seventeen
Tilly heard Savannah’s footsteps before she said a word — that same quick, irritated rhythm she’d had getting out of the truck an hour earlier.
Tilly had hidden away in the gear room since they got back to the station.
Sharp.
Determined.
Coming straight for them.
“Are you serious?” Savannah snapped, already heated.
Tilly stopped with one hand mid cable rewind, shoulders tightening. They turned slowly, jaw clenched. “What now?”
“Don’t do that.”
Tilly blinked, exhausted already. “Do what?”
“Pretend you don’t know.”
A humorless breath left Tilly’s chest. “Savannah, I’ve been running cables and fixing equipment since we got back. I’m not keeping a tally of whatever you think I did wrong on the drive.”
She stepped in, eyes blazing. “You walked out on me. Again.”
Tilly’s stomach dropped. “We weren’t talking.”
“You didn’t even look at me,” Savannah bit out. “In the edit bay. In the break room. In the hallway. You walked right past me like I wasn’t even there.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
Tilly’s patience snapped. “Fine. Maybe I didn’t look at you. Maybe I’m tired of trying to figure out how to not piss you off every time I open my mouth.”
Savannah blinked — not backing down, but stunned they’d say it out loud. “I’m not mad because you piss me off. I’m mad because you don’t talk to me.”
“You’re talking right now,” Tilly shot back.
“That’s not the same, and you know it.”
Tilly scrubbed a hand over their face, tension radiating off them. “Savannah, I had work to do.”
“Oh please,” she said, voice rising, fire catching. “You always have work to do when it means you don’t have to deal with me.”
That one hit them hard — because it was too close to the truth.
Tilly felt something sharp flare under their ribs. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah? So are you.”
“For what? For doing my job?”
“For pretending you don’t hear me,” Savannah said, voice cracking just enough to make Tilly freeze. “For acting like I’m a noise you can tune out.”
Tilly stepped closer without thinking. “You’re not noise.”
“Really? Because you make me feel like I’m annoying you just by existing near you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is the way you keep walking away.”
Tilly’s voice rose, hot now. “Because you look at me like you want something I don’t know how to handle.”
Savannah froze.
Tilly’s heart hammered. Too late to take it back.
She stepped into their space. “Then say that.”
“I just did.”
“No,” she said, voice low and furious. “Say the truth.”
“That is the truth.”
“Say the part where you want me close and push me away at the same time. Say the part where you can’t stand being near me, but you still hover around like you’re waiting for something.”
Tilly’s breath caught. “Savannah, stop.”
“Why? You don’t get to walk away this time.”
“I’m not trying to walk away,” Tilly snapped.
“Then why are we fighting instead of just talking?”
“Because you get under my skin and I don’t know what to do about it!”
Savannah’s mouth parted in shock. “Then fucking say that!”
Tilly stepped forward. Savannah stepped back.
Her shoulders hit the wall.
Silence punched between them.
Both of them breathing too fast.
Tilly braced a hand beside her head, leaning in before they even thought about it. Anger simmered between them, hot enough to blur into something else.
“You drive me insane,” Tilly said, voice low and shaking. “You walk around acting like you don’t notice how close you get. You say things that sound like you’re daring me to react. You look at me like you already know what I’m thinking.”
Savannah’s chest rose sharply. “Maybe I do.”
Tilly swallowed hard. “You make it impossible to think straight.”
Savannah’s voice broke. “You make it impossible to breathe.”
Tilly’s hand lifted to her chin. Savannah’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, like she couldn’t stop herself.
If Tilly leaned in, she’d meet them.
That truth scared them enough that they forced themselves back.
Savannah looked wrecked. And pissed. And something else entirely.
Tilly’s voice came out unsteady. “We should get back to work.”
Savannah didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Then slowly, she straightened her posture.
“Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”
Tilly made it halfway down the hall before guilt punched them hard. They turned.
“Savannah.”
She looked up.
Tilly’s voice softened, finally honest. “I didn’t walk away because I wanted to.”
Her face flickered. Anger softened. Something warm slipped through.
“Then don’t,” she whispered.
Tilly’s throat tightened. They nodded once.
“Okay.”
Savannah didn’t smile. But her eyes did.
Tilly walked back into the newsroom like nothing was wrong.
Nothing was wrong.
Nothing happened.
Nothing at all.
Except they’d just backed Savannah against a wall with their hand beside her head like they were in some kind of cheap romance movie and then almost kissed her.
Almost.
Almost.
They kept walking. Kept breathing. Kept pretending they weren’t losing their mind.
Harper caught sight of them from her desk and raised a brow, a silent oh? that Tilly absolutely didn’t want to deal with.
They tried to walk past.
Harper rolled her chair right into their path. “Nope. Absolutely not. What’s going on with you?”
“Move,” Tilly said.
“Not until you stop looking like you just got hit with a truck made of feelings.”
Tilly closed their eyes. “Harper.”
“Tilly.”
They stood there for a long beat. Harper stared. Tilly stared back.
Finally, Tilly blew out a breath. “Fine. I’m going into the gear room.”
“Great,” Harper said, rolling after them like an annoying little shadow. “I’ll supervise.”
Tilly groaned.
The door shut behind them. Tilly set a camera battery on the counter. Missed. It clattered to the floor. They stared at it like gravity had betrayed them personally.
Harper leaned against the shelves, arms crossed, watching with way too much interest.
“So,” she said. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not the face of someone who experienced ‘nothing.’ That’s the face of someone who made a terrible, chaotic decision and is now regretting everything.”
Tilly dragged both hands through their hair. “I didn’t make a decision. It just… happened.”
“Oh god,” Harper whispered dramatically. “You kissed her.”
“We didn’t kiss,” Tilly hissed. “Nobody kissed anybody.”
“But you almost did,” Harper said, eyes lighting up like Christmas morning. “Right?”
Tilly didn’t answer.
Harper gasped. “Oh, my god. You almost kissed Savannah.”
Tilly paced the length of the room, hands in their hair, heart pounding so hard they felt it in their teeth.
“I hate her,” Tilly said. “Remember? I’m supposed to hate her.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No,” Harper repeated calmly. “You hate how much you don’t hate her.”
Tilly stopped pacing and stared at the wall. “She got in my face.”
“Oh no,” Harper deadpanned. “She committed the crime of existing within three feet of you. How awful.”
“Harper.”
“What? Am I wrong?”
Tilly kicked lightly at a cable on the floor. “She cornered me.”
“She cornered you.”
“Yes.”
“With her words.”
“Yes.”
“And her face.”
“Harper.”
“And her body?”
Tilly groaned again. “Stop.”
Harper tilted her head. “Did you corner her?”
Tilly didn’t answer right away.
Harper’s eyes widened. “Oh, my god. You pushed her against a wall.”
“It wasn’t— I didn’t— Harper!”
“That’s a yes.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
Tilly pressed their palms flat to the counter, head hanging. Their chest felt too full. Their skin felt too warm. Their mind replayed Savannah’s voice, her breathing, the way she’d looked at them like she knew exactly what they wanted and wasn’t afraid of it.
“I don’t know,” Tilly said quietly. “I don’t know what it was. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why she makes me feel like I’m going to explode every time she looks at me.”
Harper moved closer, softer now. “Tilly. You’re not in trouble. You’re just… into her.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Tilly stared at the shelf. “She makes me insane.”
“That’s usually step one.”
“I don’t want step one.”
“Tough,” Harper said. “You’re already on step four.”
Tilly sank onto the metal stool in the corner. “Harper, I can’t do this. She’s Savannah.”
“And?”
“I’m me.”
“And?”
Tilly’s voice cracked slightly. “She’s straight.”
Harper didn’t even flinch. “Oh, please. Straight people don’t look at their coworkers like that.”
Tilly stared at her. “She is straight.”
Harper lifted a brow. “And yet you almost kissed a straight girl in a hallway. Incredible work.”
“It wasn’t— we didn’t— Harper.”
She held up both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just shocked she hasn’t combusted from the confusion she’s been radiating all day.”
Tilly groaned, pressing their palms to their forehead. “This is a disaster.”
“No, sweetie,” Harper said warmly, patting their shoulder. “This is bisexual-panic adjacent. Very different. Very common.”
“Harper.”
“I’m just saying.” She shrugged. “Straight people don’t pin coworkers to walls over unresolved sexual tension. I checked.”
Tilly’s face went red. “We didn’t pin—”
“You did,” Harper corrected instantly. “You absolutely did.”
Tilly sank onto the stool. “It doesn’t matter. She’s straight.”
Harper smirked. “Mm-hmm. And I’m the Tooth Fairy.”
“She hates me.”
“No. She thinks she hates you,” Harper said, leaning against the shelves. “Meanwhile, you’re over here melting into a puddle because you almost kissed a girl you swear you can’t stand. Classic.”
Tilly buried their face in their hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Harper patted their shoulder again. “Sweetie, you two have been circling each other for weeks. I’m shocked it took this long.”
Tilly peeked through their fingers. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“I’m not stupid,” Harper said. “But I am going to enjoy watching this ruin both your lives.”
Tilly groaned again.
Harper grinned.