MELISSA

Chapter 8: Beneath the Surface

The soft hum of the jazz bar still lingered in Melissa's mind as she stood in front of the mirror the next morning, brushing her hair. The night with Andrew had been unforgettable, filled with moments that left her heart tangled in a quiet web of emotions. The way he had looked at her, as though he was trying to memorize every detail of her face, haunted her in the best possible way. But there had been restraint too—an invisible line neither of them had crossed.

Not yet, she thought, fastening her earrings.

The day loomed ahead of her, filled with meetings and deadlines at the agency, but her mind kept drifting back to Andrew, to their conversations, to the warmth of his presence. A part of her longed to dive deeper into whatever it was they were building, but another part of her hesitated. Why rush it? She reminded herself of the pacing, the need to explore their connection without hurrying into something she wasn't entirely sure of yet.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from Racheal.

Coffee before work? I need details.
Melissa smiled, feeling the familiar tug of excitement whenever her best friend was involved. Racheal had been her confidante since they'd met at a fashion event years ago, and she knew just how to pull Melissa out of her head when she got too tangled in her thoughts.

On my way, she replied, grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

At the café, Racheal was already waiting, her vibrant energy lighting up the small space. With her chic blazer and effortless charm, she stood out from the usual morning crowd of tired commuters.

"You look entirely too awake for this time of day," Melissa teased, sliding into the chair opposite her.

"I live for this," Racheal said, grinning. "And so do you, but we're not here to talk about that. Spill. How was last night?"

Melissa took a sip of her cappuccino, buying herself a moment. "It was... nice."

Racheal raised an eyebrow. "Nice? Girl, you've been floating ever since you sat down. Don't 'nice' me. Give me the details."

"It was more than nice," Melissa admitted, her cheeks warming. "It was... unexpected. We talked a lot. About life, family, things I don't usually talk about with people. And he opened up too. I'm starting to see there's more to him than the billionaire image."

Racheal leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Ooh, I knew it. He's got layers, doesn't he?"

Melissa nodded, feeling a twinge of something she couldn't quite name. "Yeah, but it's complicated. I don't know how to explain it. There's something about him that feels... guarded. Like he wants to open up but is holding back."

"Classic. He's probably scared to get hurt. Especially if he's been through a lot," Racheal said, stirring her coffee thoughtfully. "But don't worry. You're good at peeling back layers, whether it's fabric or people."

Melissa chuckled. "I wish I was as confident as you are."

"Confidence comes with knowing you're doing something right," Racheal said with a wink. "And from where I'm sitting, it sounds like things are heading in the right direction. Just take your time. There's no rush."

Melissa smiled, feeling the reassurance seep in. Racheal always knew how to put things in perspective, and as much as she wanted to push forward with Andrew, she knew her friend was right. They had time—time to learn, time to grow, time to figure out what exactly was blooming between them.

But in the back of her mind, a little voice whispered: How much time is enough before we risk missing the moment altogether?

Later that afternoon, back at the agency, Melissa sat at her desk, poring over a new collection of fabrics Evelyn had assigned her to review. The textures felt rich beneath her fingertips, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Every so often, she'd glance at her phone, half-hoping for another message from Andrew, though they had only spoken hours earlier.

The sound of high heels clicking across the polished floor pulled her attention. Evelyn strode in, her usual air of authority trailing behind her like an invisible cloak. "Melissa, we need to discuss those designs you presented yesterday."

Melissa stood, her nerves instantly on edge. "Of course. What would you like to talk about?"

Evelyn sat down across from her, fixing her with a look that was neither harsh nor warm, but analytical. "You're talented, Melissa. There's no question about that. But talent isn't enough in this industry. You need to refine your voice—find that one thing that sets you apart from every other designer in New York."

Melissa nodded, taking in the critique with as much grace as she could. "I'm trying to push myself. I want to show something new, something personal."

"That's the right instinct," Evelyn said, crossing her legs and leaning back. "But personal doesn't mean scattered. Your concepts need to be cohesive. You're on the verge of something great, I can see that. You just need to channel it."

The words both stung and encouraged her. Evelyn's expectations were high, but Melissa knew she could meet them—she just had to figure out how. As the conversation continued, Evelyn offered her advice on the designs, pointing out areas of improvement and giving her insight into the kind of presentation that would make an impact.

As the meeting ended, Melissa felt a mixture of relief and pressure. She was close, as Evelyn had said. But close wasn't good enough. She had to reach beyond close—she had to stand out.

That evening, Melissa found herself back in her apartment, surrounded by sketches and fabrics. The city buzzed outside, but inside, it was just her and her ideas. She worked late into the night, reworking designs, making notes, and searching for that spark that would set her creations apart.

Her phone vibrated again, and this time, it was Andrew.

Andrew: How's your day going?

Melissa hesitated, then replied: Long. Just trying to perfect everything, as usual.

Within moments, his response came through: Don't burn yourself out. Sometimes stepping back for a moment brings the clarity you need.

Melissa smiled. Easier said than done.

Andrew: True. But I've found it helps sometimes.

She paused, her fingers hovering over the keys. The comfort in their conversation, the ease with which they communicated, was growing by the day. And yet, she still hadn't let herself fall completely. Not yet.

Melissa: I'll try that. Maybe a walk tomorrow morning.

Andrew's reply was almost immediate: How about I join you?

The idea made her heart leap. A walk with Andrew. No pretense, no agenda. Just them, in the simplicity of a quiet morning. She typed back quickly: I'd like that.

As she lay in bed that night, Melissa's thoughts danced between her work and Andrew. She knew she was standing at the crossroads of two worlds—her career and her personal life—and she wasn't sure which path would demand more of her. But she also knew that, for the first time in a long while, she wasn't afraid to let someone into both.

Slowly, Andrew was becoming more than just a charming distraction. He was becoming someone she wanted to trust with her heart.