Between the desks

Chapter 100

Elizabeth's POV

The evening had unfurled like a quiet secret, gradually and almost unknowingly crossing lines I'd drawn for myself. I'd known Amren would be charming, that she'd have a million things to say that would keep me glued to her every word, but I hadn't expected her to pull me into her orbit like this. I was drawn to her—overwhelmingly so, and now, as dessert arrived and she continued speaking, I felt myself hanging on each word, nodding, smiling, my heart ticking a little too fast.

Under the table, my knee brushed against hers. I waited for her to shift away, to draw the line and pull herself back into the professional distance we both knew was safest. But she didn't. Her knee remained, solid and warm against mine, and that small point of contact burned into me, reminding me how real this was. That this was not some foolish fantasy.

As she rambled on about her latest academic discovery, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm, and I couldn't help but watch her intently, transfixed. The more she spoke, the more I wanted to reach out, to smooth the strand of hair that fell across her cheek, to linger on the softness of her jaw. But I stayed still, kept my face carefully neutral, even as my heart raced.

I caught myself staring a bit too long, and she looked up, her words trailing off as she realized I hadn't been listening as closely as I should have. I felt the tips of my ears flush, but I kept my composure, letting my eyes lock with hers, unflinching.

"Amren," I murmured, leaning forward just a little, barely a breath away from her. My voice was low, careful, but threaded with something more—something she seemed to pick up on immediately, because her smile faltered, her breath catching as our eyes held.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice soft, almost breathless, her gaze meeting mine with that gentle wariness that somehow made her even more enticing.

In that moment, the entire café seemed to blur and fade, the sounds around us muffled, the clinking of silverware and quiet chatter fading into the background. It was as if we were the only two people in the world. My hand twitched in my lap, wanting to reach for her, to let her know that I saw her, that I felt every single unspoken word between us.

"Are you happy?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it, surprising even myself. My fingers brushed her knee, subtly but deliberately.

Her eyes widened, and I could see her processing the question, understanding that it was about more than just this moment. She looked down, a small, nervous smile playing at her lips. "I... think I am, yes," she replied, her voice just above a whisper. Her answer was honest, but there was something lingering there, something that she wasn't saying.

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her glass, and I watched her, feeling like I was balancing on a knife's edge. She cleared her throat, her gaze drifting away for a moment, as though remembering herself, the boundaries that had always been between us.

Yet, she didn't move her knee away from mine. She let it linger, that delicate, electric point of contact that neither of us dared to acknowledge out loud. We were toeing a line that neither of us had ever meant to cross, but I could feel myself inching closer, wondering if maybe, just maybe, she wanted to cross it too.

She met my gaze again, and I felt the tension between us tighten, a taut string that could snap at any moment. Her lips parted slightly as though she were about to speak, but no words came. I saw the slight quirk of her mouth, that familiar little smile that usually disarmed me, but now, in this low light, it looked dangerously inviting.

"Lizzie..." Her voice was barely audible, her eyes searching mine with an intensity that nearly stole my breath. The unspoken question hung between us, a challenge, a dare.

The moment stretched, our knees still touching, my fingers itching to move just a little closer, to break every last rule I'd ever imposed on myself. I swallowed, carefully leaning back to take a sip of wine, trying to cool the fire that was threatening to consume me entirely.

She let out a small, shaky breath, and I noticed her glance around the room, a subtle reminder that we weren't alone. Her face softened, the tension breaking for a moment as she leaned back, her eyes dropping to the menu on the table as if to ground herself.

But even as she tried to distract herself, her leg stayed pressed against mine.

"We should get the check soon," she murmured, her voice hesitant, like she was saying it more to herself than to me.

"Or..." I countered softly, and she looked up at me, that fire still simmering in her gaze. I gave her a slow smile, the kind that made her eyes flick down to her wine glass, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "We could stay a little longer."

She let out a soft laugh, her voice slightly unsteady as she tried to regain control. "Lizzie... we shouldn't—"

"I know," I whispered back, leaning in just enough that only she could hear me. "But I don't really want to let this end yet."

For a beat, she seemed to weigh my words, her gaze drifting over my face like she was memorizing every detail. Slowly, she leaned back, giving a slight nod. Her knee pressed a little harder against mine in response, sending another jolt through me that I struggled to hide.

But I knew, in that unspoken way that had been building all evening, that this was far from over.