It started with a mistake.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
Standing just inches away from him, she could feel the warmth of his presence, steady and consuming. This wasn’t where she was supposed to be… and definitely not with him.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered, though she hadn’t stepped back.
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed on hers. “Then why are you still here?”
She didn’t have an answer.
Because the truth was… she didn’t want one.
The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as he took a slow step closer. Now there was no space left between them—only tension, thick and impossible to ignore.
Her heart pounded. “This is wrong.”
“Maybe,” he said softly. “But it doesn’t feel like it.”
That silence again.
The kind that said everything words couldn’t.
Her gaze dropped for a moment, betraying her thoughts, before she forced herself to look back at him. But it was already too late. He had seen it—the hesitation, the pull, the way she wasn’t walking away.
“You can stop this,” he murmured.
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t think I can.”
His hand lifted slowly, giving her time to pull back. But when his fingers gently brushed her arm, she felt that same familiar spark—the one she had been trying so hard to ignore.
And she didn’t move.
Instead, she stayed.
Closer than she should be.
Closer than she ever planned.
“You feel it too,” he said quietly.
She nodded, her voice barely a breath. “That’s the problem.”
Because some lines weren’t meant to be crossed.
But standing there, caught between reason and desire…
They were already too close.
And neither of them was ready to step away.