Never KISS The Enemy | ✎

Chapter 13 | Landon

The clock on the wall read 11:47 PM, but neither of us showed any signs of leaving. The community center was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of papers and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Cassidy was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a sea of color-coded schedules and flyers, her brow furrowed in concentration. I watched her from the table where I'd been setting up a mock layout for the event booths, momentarily distracted by how the dim light caught in her hair, turning the strands into a mix of gold and copper.

"You know," I said, leaning back in my chair, "most people would've called it a night hours ago."

She didn't look up, just kept flipping through her notebook with an exasperated sigh. "Most people aren't trying to save an entire town from corporate oblivion."

There it was—the sharp edge in her voice, the same one that never failed to light a fire under me. But tonight, it didn't feel like a challenge. It felt... different. Lighter, somehow.

"Well," I said, smirking, "for someone so dedicated to saving the town, you sure spend a lot of time reorganizing those flyers. That's the third time tonight."

Cassidy finally glanced up, her green eyes flashing with mock indignation. "They were out of order. And it's not like you're making groundbreaking progress over there, Mr. Spreadsheet."

I couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't the first time she'd teased me about my obsession with data and logistics, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the way her voice softened when she wasn't actively trying to argue with me.

Standing, I stretched my arms over my head, feeling the tension in my shoulders from hours of planning. "Alright, Miss Perfectionist," I said, crossing the room to where she was sitting, "let's see what all the fuss is about."

Cassidy tilted her chin up defiantly, but there was a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "You wouldn't understand. It's called presentation, Landon. Something your spreadsheets are sorely lacking."

I crouched down beside her, close enough to catch the faint scent of vanilla and something floral. "You think presentation's going to win over the town?" I asked, keeping my tone light. "I thought your whole argument was about substance."

Her smile widened, and for a moment, it felt like we weren't opponents on opposite sides of a battle. We were just... two people, working toward the same goal.

"It's both," she said, her voice softer now. "Substance is what matters, but presentation is how you get people to notice it in the first place."

She looked at me then, and I realized how close we were. Too close, maybe. I could see the tiny flecks of gold in her eyes, the way her lashes curled just slightly at the ends. My pulse quickened, and I forced myself to focus on the flyers spread out in front of us instead.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked, my voice a little rougher than I intended.

Cassidy hesitated, as if she'd noticed the shift in the air between us, too. Then she cleared her throat and launched into an explanation about booth arrangements and volunteer assignments, her words coming fast and precise.

I nodded along, but I wasn't really listening. My attention was fixed on the way her lips moved, the way her hands gestured animatedly as she talked. It was infuriating, really, how easily she could command a room—or, in this case, my focus—without even trying.

When she finally stopped, looking at me expectantly, I realized I hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"Sounds like a solid plan," I said quickly, hoping she wouldn't call me out on it.

Her eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought I was caught. But instead of snapping at me, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here we are," I said, letting my smirk return.

Cassidy rolled her eyes but didn't move away, even as the silence stretched between us. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. If anything, it felt... charged.

I didn't know who moved first. Maybe it was me, leaning just slightly closer, drawn in by something I couldn't quite name. Or maybe it was her, tilting her head ever so slightly, her gaze flickering to my lips before darting away.

The space between us seemed to vanish, and for a brief, electric moment, I thought—

But then Cassidy pulled back, breaking the spell. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she busied herself with gathering the flyers as if her life depended on it.

"I—uh—we should probably call it a night," she said, her voice a little too bright, a little too hurried.

"Right," I said, pushing to my feet and running a hand through my hair. My heart was still racing, and I couldn't decide if I was relieved or disappointed that we'd stopped ourselves. "Big day tomorrow."

Cassidy nodded, still avoiding my gaze as she stuffed her notebook into her bag.

As we walked out of the community center together, the cool night air hit me like a splash of water, clearing my head. But even as we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways, I couldn't shake the feeling that something between us had shifted.

Whatever it was, it scared the hell out of me. Because for the first time, I wasn't sure I wanted to keep my distance.