Angela had a way of lingering in my thoughts long after I decided I was done thinking about her.
It wasn't love anymore—if it ever really was. It was habit. History. The comfort of knowing someone so well. We had tried to make sense of each other most times. We've been distant, but somehow we always returned to each other.
She wanted certainty while I wanted space. Yet tonight, her name was on my mind.
Then Jennifer's followed.
Uninvited.
The hesitation in her voice when she spoke to me.
That was new.
I've been with countless women, who I never cared about but there is something about this particular lady that makes her hover around my mind.
Whatever this was, I was already in deeper than I intended.
~MKS HOTEL 4:26 PM
JENNIFER'S POV
Damian Steele called me into his office just before the end of my shift.
I knew better than to ignore it.
He gestured for me to sit, his smile a little too practiced, confident enough for someone who signs my performance reviews.
"You've been leaving early lately," he said, leaning back. "I hope work isn't becoming… boring."
"It isn't," I replied. "I complete my tasks."
"I've noticed." His eyes lingered longer than necessary. "You're one of our most dedicated staff."
I forced a polite smile.
He stood, walked around the desk slowly, and rested against it. "We should have dinner sometime. Outside work."
I opened my mouth to decline when he added casually, "My wife won't mind. She's hardly ever around."
The words landed heavily.
I stood immediately. "With all due respect, sir, I prefer to keep my relationships professional."
His smile faltered for just a second.
"Of course," he said, masking it quickly. "Just thought I'd ask."
I left without looking back, my stomach tight.
I grabbed my bag from my desk and headed out.
By the time I got to the parking lot, the air felt lighter.
The parking lot behind MKS Hotels never looked so peaceful.
I sat in my car with the windows slightly opened to let the evening breeze cool my cheeks. I had clocked out early—again—and this time I wasn't going home immediately. I needed a moment.
A moment to think.
A moment to breathe.
I pulled out my phone, opened my movie app, and hit "continue watching."
Something light. Something silly. Something that would keep my mind off–
A knock on my car window nearly made me throw the phone.
I turned.
Of course.
Nathaniel Holmes.
He stood outside my door, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable but unmistakably amused.
I lowered the window a little. "Do you have a tracking device on me or something?"
He kept silent.
His gaze moved over the inside of my car and stopped on my phone.
"You're watching a movie," he said.
"Congratulations, Sherlock."
His expression shifted. Brows twisting.
*I hope he found that funny.*
His eyebrow lifted. "Open the door."
"No," I replied softly.
"Jennifer."
"No."
Then, without warning, he bent down, reached through the open window, and pressed the unlock button.
My mouth fell open.
"You weren't going to let me in," he said simply, pulling the door open and sliding into the passenger seat like he paid rent there.
"You can't just enter people's cars like this!"
"Your doors were unlocked."
"Because someone—someone with no boundaries unlocked them!"
He settled back comfortably with his arms crossed as if he fully intended to stay.
"What are you doing?" I asked, glaring.
"You're ignoring me," he said.
"I'm not ignoring you."
"You declined my invitation."
"Because I don't like clubs!"
"You never told me that."
"I didn't think I needed to!"
His eyes softened a bit. "You do."
The words hit my chest harder than they should have.
I looked away, flustered. "Well… now you know."
There was a short silence between us—awkward, unexpected, too fragile to touch.
Then he tapped my phone screen.
"What are we watching?"
I blinked. "…You want to watch a movie? Here?"
"Yes."
"In my car?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You're avoiding me. I'm preventing that."
"Now, let's watch,"
I stared at him.
He stared back, calm as ever.
And somehow…
Somehow it didn't feel forced or uncomfortable.
It felt… natural.
"Fine," I muttered, trying to hide the smile tugging at my lips. "You can stay for one episode. Just ONE."
"I'll take it."
I resumed the movie.
The car filled with soft dialogue and background music, and surprisingly, Nate didn't make a single comment. He didn't critique the plot or the actors nor did he even look bored.
He just watched.
At some point, his shoulder brushed mine—barely.
But my entire spine reacted like someone had plugged me into an electrical outlet.
I shifted slightly.
He noticed.
"You're uncomfortable?" he asked, voice lower.
"No,"
"You moved."
"I didn't exactly expect you to sit so close."
"This is a small car," he replied. "If you want distance, get a bigger one."
"Wow. You are—"
"Honest?"
"Annoying," I replied.
His lips curved in a small, satisfied smile. "Same thing."
Another brush of his shoulder.
Another reaction under my skin.
I focused on the screen, refusing to look at him even though I could feel him watching me from the corner of his eye.
When the episode ended, I exhaled.
"There," I said. "One episode. You can go now."
He didn't move.
Instead, he asked quietly, "Why do you keep turning me down, Jennifer?"
My breath caught.
He wasn't teasing.
His voice wasn't sharp.
He wasn't smirking.
He actually wanted an answer.
I swallowed. "Because I don't know what you want."
He spoke more softly. His voice sounding more sincere "What do you think I want?"
"I don't know," I whispered. "And that's what scares me."
His expression shifted—just slightly—but enough that I caught it.
He leaned forward, one elbow on his knees. "I don't usually make time for people."
I waited.
"But I've made time for you. More than I planned to."
He paused. "More than I expected to."
My body stiffened.
I didn't know what to say.
I didn't know how to steady my breath.
But then he sighed softly, almost frustrated with himself, and said:
"Get to know me, Jennifer."
I looked down at my hands.
Then at him.
"…Okay."
His head lifted slowly then he stretched his hands to open the door.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.
"For what?"
Another small smile. "Whatever you choose."
Before I could answer, he stepped out and shut the door gently behind him, walking away with that calm confidence that irritated and charmed me at the same time.
I watched him until he disappeared behind the corner of the lot.
When I finally breathed again, I whispered into the silence:
"What are you doing to me?"