Amy stood in front of the mirror in the boutique dressing room, twisting side to side. The red top clung to her like it was terrified of being left behind—tight across her chest, borderline scandalous. The kind of top she'd never have worn to the office, but this wasn't work. This was personal. A little indulgent. A little… dangerous.
She tugged at the neckline and muttered, "Bra size: impossible."
"Amy? You okay in there?" came the voice of her friend from the hallway outside the changing rooms.
"Yup. Just fighting physics." She let out a soft laugh, turning sideways again. The top fit—technically—but it left very little to the imagination. Every inch of her full chest was emphasized, the outline of her bra visible, her cleavage a canyon that seemed to deepen when she exhaled.
The door creaked open slightly, a male voice speaking up. "Sorry—this one was left outside. Thought it belonged in here."
Amy turned—startled—and her eyes met his.
Peter.
He stood with the top folded in one hand, his other hand raised in apology. Tall, built in that quietly athletic way, and confidently unaware of how good he looked in a simple tee and jeans. His gaze dropped for just a second, unashamed, before flicking back up to her face.
"Oh. Uh. Sorry," Amy said, crossing her arms quickly, though it didn't do much. "Didn't expect anyone else in here."
Peter gave a slow smile. "My bad. But I gotta say… that top? That's dangerous."
Amy raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous as in too much?"
"Dangerous as in… it's a challenge not to stare." His tone was teasing, warm. Bold.
She laughed—genuinely. "Well, that's honest."
He leaned casually on the doorframe. "Honesty's free. Besides, I work here part-time. I've seen worse. But I've definitely never seen… that."
"That?" she repeated, one brow still lifted.
He motioned toward her chest with a vague gesture. "That combination of confidence and… gravity-defying architecture."
Amy gave him a look. "You mean my boobs?"
He grinned. "You said it, not me."
"Peter, was it?" she asked, pretending not to remember.
"You remember." He stepped in slightly, just enough to make it feel intentional. "Look—if the goal is to turn heads, that top's a winner. But if you want people to hear what you're saying while you wear it… might be a problem."
Amy chuckled, the flirtation starting to crackle. "Thanks for the unsolicited feedback."
He tilted his head. "Tell you what—why don't you let me help? I've seen enough fittings to know what works."
"You offering to measure me now?" she teased.
Peter didn't miss a beat. "Only if you promise to breathe normally. I'd hate to lose a hand."
She looked at him—truly looked. The kind of look that weighed the danger of a little flirtation with the pleasure of it. And God, it had been too long since someone looked at her the way he did.
"You're bold," she said, smiling despite herself.
"And you're beautiful," he answered, with zero irony.
Their eyes held for a moment longer than appropriate. Amy felt her stomach flutter in a way she hadn't expected. Then, breaking the moment, she turned slightly to the mirror. "Tell me honestly—does it look too tight?"
Peter stepped in, close enough that she felt his warmth behind her. "Too tight? No. Too tempting? Definitely."
His voice was lower now, closer. His hand stayed at his side, but his presence was suddenly undeniable. Amy met his eyes in the mirror—his gaze trailing down her back, her hips, before settling again on her reflection's eyes.
"Do you always flirt with customers?" she asked, the air between them thick now.
"Only the ones who leave me wondering what size secret they're hiding."
Amy laughed, flushed, and turned to face him fully. "You're impossible."
"I'm not the one who needs a custom bra," he shot back, soft but daring.
For a second, she considered stepping away. But she didn't. She stayed right there, chest practically brushing his, that tight red top still fighting for its life.
"Let's see if you're still this confident when I try something tighter," she whispered, brushing past him, her shoulder grazing his arm.
Peter didn't move. Just smiled as she walked away, hips swaying, top bouncing ever so slightly.
And Amy? She hadn't felt that seen in years.