In the high-stakes world of political campaigns, Troi has always been the steadfast force behind Jack Schlossberg's run for office. But when forces threaten to derail everything they've built, Troi and Jack must confront not only political chess gam...
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The days following Elizabeth's confrontation were tense and filled with an uneasy silence. The team was laser-focused on the campaign, but underneath the surface, the four of us that knew of the scandal had to be settled before we could focus on anything else. Elizabeth had been fired, which came with mixed discussions and questions from the rest of the team. With the evidence presented, we had enough to fire her and we had reasonable right to get rid of her due to the possibility of further sabotage.
Frankly, I was more than glad to get her out of the office.
Jack and I had also avoided discussing the night at my apartment, skirting around the topic like it was a bomb ready to explode.
Late one evening, the office was a quiet hum of fluorescent lights and the distant drone of traffic outside. Most of the team had gone home, leaving only a few of us behind to tie up loose ends. I sat at my desk, typing furiously, trying to bury my thoughts in work. Jack was in his office, the door slightly ajar, his silhouette visible against the backdrop of campaign posters and stacks of papers. I would glance at him occasionally, watching him bury himself in his work.
I thought of him and I in his office. Alone. My ass on his desk, legs spread out for him and hands tangled in his hair, while he fucked me and gave me kisses all over my breasts.
I mentally slapped myself, shoving those thoughts as far back as possible.
As the minutes ticked by, the office grew quieter, the occasional shuffle of footsteps echoing through the halls. I glanced at the clock: nearly 8 PM. With a deep breath, I saved my work and stood, stretching my stiff muscles. I needed to get some coffee.
In the break room, the silence was almost oppressive. I filled my mug, the sound of the coffee machine gurgling in the stillness. I was about to head back to my desk when I saw Jack leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. It was like a weakness to me, seeing him lean against the doorframe this way.
"Hey," he said softly, stepping into the room.
"Hey," I replied, feeling my heart quicken.
He walked over to the counter, leaning his back against it. His eyes were fixed on my body, looking at every inch of me. He cleared his throat before saying, "We should talk."
"Yeah, we should." There was a moment of silence, heavy and charged. I could feel the tension between us, like an atom ready to bond with another. "Let's go to your office."
We headed towards his office, and he closed the door behind us. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that night," he began, his voice low and steady. "But with everything going on, I didn't want to... complicate things."
I sighed, looking down at my feet in shame. "I know. It's been on my mind too. We should have talked about it sooner."
He nodded, his gaze intense. "I just... I don't want to make things difficult for us, for the campaign, for you. But I can't stop thinking about it, about you. It's like- no matter what I do, I think about the softness of your hair, the feel of your skin, and- and all I think about is how I want more. I want more of you."
I looked up at him, my heart pounding. His confession sends a heat through me, and I feel myself sweating down my back, my hands, my face. "Jack, I... I feel the same way," I admit, "But, these desires are simply desires. I think it's best that we focus on the campaign, on our duty to what's important and that's electing you President."
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. I start to smell his cologne again, the scent driving me absolutely insane. "I know. But that doesn't change how I feel. That night, it meant something to me."
I swallowed hard, my emotions swirling. "Jack, I- I think it's best that we stay friends." I'm at a loss for words, unsure of what to say. I tell him truthfully what I believe, even if it means hurting him. And hurting myself.
He stood there, a mixture of longing and frustration etched into his features. "Friends," he repeated, the word tasting bitter on his tongue. "Do you really, truthfully, want to be friends?"
"Jack, please," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm not trying to hurt you. We have to think about the campaign. What we owe, to our friends, family, the team, the people. If we even acted on our feelings, it could ruin everything we've worked for."
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I understand." He pauses for a moment, before taking another step towards me, his presence overwhelming my disposition. "What about what we want?"
I look him in the eyes, determined to get my point across. "We can't always have what we want. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the greater good."
He steps away from me, hurt evident on his face. I tried to keep my composure steady and face unreadable, even if my mind was crumbling from my lies. He knew I was lying straight through my teeth, but he respected me enough to not push further. It hurt me to say these words to him, knowing I didn't mean them at all. I wanted nothing more at this point than to kiss him, confess my feelings, run away for a few days, and never live in this lie.
"I should probably head home," He says after a moment, jolting me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, same."
"Don't stay up too late. We have a campaign to win. Can't have my campaign manager running on five hours of sleep trying to fundraise money for us."
We laugh, letting his remark ease the tension in the room. I look at him and think about everything up until this moment, how terribly lucky I am to be in his presence. To work everyday towards a progressive future for a great friend that will lead the country towards prosperity.
"I'll see you tomorrow then," I say, leaning against the doorframe. The urge to stay longer with him is so strong that I bite down on my tongue.
