CASSIDY #3
Right.
Work.
Definitely work.
Nothing but work.
“We should finish this,” I agree.
Harlan exhales.
“Yes,” he says. “We should.”
The loss of the moment should make things easier.
It doesn’t.
If anything, it leaves the air more charged.
He moves back to the screen, and I follow with the marked-up notes. We rebuild the sequence together, sharper this time. He deletes three slides without mercy.
I argue two back in, and I know that this time it was a test. He’s teaching me, even now.
He cuts one of mine, and I try to argue he’s wrong, and he blames my sentimentality.
He’s probably not wrong.
“But sentiment is a big part of this campaign,” I snap, and he grins at me.
“How I love your fire,” he admits.
Everything narrows to the low sound of his voice and the fact he’s standing close enough that I can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the tiny crease between his brows, and something in his eyes I don’t know how to name.
We’re so close I can feel his breath on the side of my face, and when I turn back to look at him, he’s staring at me, too.
For a second, neither of us says anything.
The campaign, the documents, the disaster we’re supposed to be fixing—all of it fades.
Harlan’s gaze flicks briefly to my mouth, and I lick my lips in response.
His gaze darts to my eyes, where my pulse stumbles. My scent presses against the neutraliser, and I’m so relieved I’m wearing it.
Surely, I’m imagining things.
I have to be.
The silence stretches between us, and my throat feels too tight.
“We should probably…” I start.
The words die somewhere between my brain and my mouth because Harlan hasn’t moved.
He’s still watching me with an intensity that Silas usually carries.
And somehow, from Harlan, it feels infinitely worse.
Or better.
I don’t know anymore.
The scent neutraliser should be making this easier. It isn’t.
All it does is leave me searching for traces of him beneath it all.
My stomach twists as his jaw tightens. He looks uncertain, and it’s a strange look on him.
My hand tightens around the edge of my chair, and his eyes follow the movement before lifting to mine once more.
And somehow that feels more intimate than touching ever could.
He moves in closer.
Or I do.
My hair has escaped its clip at one side, and I don’t realise until I catch him looking at the loose curl near my cheek.
His fingers flex once at his side before he tucks it behind my ear, close enough that his knuckles brush the scent gland hidden beneath my hair. I shiver at his touch, and he doesn’t pull away.
My breathing forgets itself, and I lean in closer.
Or he does.
We’re barely an inch apart now.
Then he shifts his hand away in a controlled, careful move.
Too careful.
The air changes. Not enough to scent properly through the neutraliser, but enough that every nerve in my body notices.
I feel it in my throat, in my ribs, in my scent glands aching for release.
Every thought in my head feels like it’s moving through syrup. My pulse thunders.
He’s holding his breath.
I can see individual flecks of colour in his eyes. The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
We’re so close that if either of us moves, even slightly—
“That works.” His voice is clipped, professional, and cold, and he moves away from me.
I don’t know how it feels for him, but for me, the lack of his attention is like a crushing weight on my chest.
Like someone has reached inside my rib cage and crushed my heart as tight as they can without killing me.
I stare at him as he pulls the mouse back towards himself and starts flicking through the slides.
My pulse is still trying to find its rhythm again. My lungs haven’t remembered how breathing works.
And somehow, he’s managing to focus on work.
“Right,” I manage. It’s embarrassing how quiet and affected the one word is.
How affected I am.
Harlan clicks through several slides, far too quickly for me to see what’s on them, never mind assess anything. He starts moving things around, and every action carries a tension that wasn’t there before.
Before.
“We’ll use this version.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I don’t have the courage to fight with him now.
Not on this decision—not on any.
“The revised sequence is stronger.”
“Okay,” I agree easily.
A muscle jumps in his jaw. I don’t know what he doesn’t like about me right now, but I can’t bring myself to ask.
He’s hurt me enough as it is. Not on purpose. Not in any way I can hold him to. But enough.
The silence stretches between us, so much more awkward now. The comfortable rhythm we’d found over the past hour has vanished completely.
I don’t know where to put my hands. Don’t know where to look.
Don’t know what I’m supposed to do with the memory of him looking at me like—
No. Don’t do this to yourself, Cassie.
I shove the thought away immediately.
I acted inappropriately. I stood there wanting him and made it impossible for him to ignore.
A twenty-one-year-old intern standing there staring at her boss wanting more than he could ever dare to offer.
“We should probably finish the notes,” I say quietly.
Harlan’s eyes close briefly. When he opens them again, something has changed in his gaze.
There’s a blankness there now that has been missing all this time. One that hurts to see directed at me.
“There’s nothing left to finish.”
“Oh.”
“This shouldn’t have happened.”
The words land like a physical blow, and my stomach drops. I stare at him.
“What shouldn’t have happened?” I ask in shock.
Harlan exhales sharply, and I think that’s answer enough.
Instead, he looks away, his jaw tightening. “Forget it.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“That’s exactly the problem,” he snaps, shaking his head.
My stomach twists as blood rushes in my ears.
“Harlan—”
I hate how small I sound. How much this conversation is affecting me.
I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate it.
The expression in his eyes twists something painful inside my chest.
“You’re here to learn.”
The interruption to my spiral is immediate.
“I am learning.” I blink away tears as I look up at him. “You’re teaching me so much, Harlan. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.”
His laugh is humourless and bitter.
Empty.
“You’re twenty-one, Cassidy. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
I flinch and look away from the disgust in his gaze.