« We shouldn't »
« I know »
At that moment, the world around them had completely vanished. The vulnerability on their faces, the impossibility of looking away. They shouldn't, no, they really shouldn't.
« I know » he repeated, moving closer to her.
The attraction was stronger than reason, but weaker than the desire eating away at both of them. The closer he got, the more she retreated, trying to buy herself a little more time to think.
The road hadn't been easy. Oscillating between longing and guilt, tears and smiles, complicated conversations—they had gradually rebuilt the path of their friendship. Day by day, the glue he was spreading along the cracks in her heart was repairing them, making them stronger. Then, one evening, amidst yet another exchange of messages, the words were no longer just words. Seduction, flirting had come knocking at the door again.
And she wanted so badly to give in—here, now, immediately.
Her back hit the wall, Tim's body dangerously close to hers, his palm resting against the wall just inches from her face. His other hand brushed her neck, tracing a path along her gold chain. He leaned in, his lips near her ear.
« You kept it.. »
Lucy gripped the pockets of his pants with her hands, finding some semblance of stability. His words, the sound of his voice, his whisper, his breath against her neck, his hand grazing her skin—it was all making her lose her footing.
They were losing control.
It would take just one more movement, one more look, one more touch to shatter all the boundaries they had so carefully set.
And it was the sound of the room keycard unlocking the door that brought them back to their senses, making them step apart quickly. Angela stood in the doorway, Wesley at her side. You'd have to be blind not to notice the tension between the two.
« I just came to check if everything was... alright. » She said, glancing back and forth between the two of them. « Lucy, Grey wants to see you. »
Lucy gave Tim one last look before following Angela out.
◇───────◇───────◇
Lucy was incapable of focusing on anything other than those few moments with Tim in that room. Her mind kept looping over every word, every glance, every touch. It would have been easy to give in, to surrender just once, and only once. This tension was eating away at her from the inside. They had spent the rest of the evening avoiding each other while unable to truly look away. It had become uncontrollable.
Sometimes, she hated herself for being the way she was because of him: a woman in love.
Lucy trusted him with her life, but with her heart? Was she ready? Inside, she was terrified. But at the same time, she knew he loved her—still, always. That it had never been a question of loving her but rather a disgust, a hatred directed at himself. And how much it hurt to realize that without that, without the heartbreak, they could have had so much more.
She wasn't blind. In recent weeks, everything had changed: their looks, their conversations, the words they used. Every opportunity to get closer to one another. And that tension that grew each time.
Lucy knew they were heading toward a direction they both recognized. Slowly but surely. It was thrilling, but so terrifying.
Then, one evening, in the midst of a message, he asked if she would accompany him to the Gala two weeks later. The answer was yes, almost without thinking. She missed him. Terribly.
