From Frost to Flame

Part 47: The Glow Up

Day 3

Wednesday arrived with overcast skies, and Pete walked into the office looking like he'd stepped off a minimalist fashion blog.

Porsche's influence was obvious: a black tucked-in shirt, sleeves rolled just right, paired with ash grey trousers and sleek boots. Effortlessly sharp. Understatedly hot.

Sky did a double take. "Okay... sir?"

Pete blinked. "What?"

"Whoever styled you, tell them thank you."

Mr. Day noticed too. Later that morning, he passed Pete near the printer and paused with a smile. "You look different today," he said. "It suits you."

Pete blushed. "Thanks..."

Unfortunately—or maybe perfectly—Vegas heard every word.

He had been walking behind them, holding a file. His steps slowed. Eyes narrowed slightly.

Then, worse, just when the moment should have ended, an intern walked by and added, "Pete, that's a look. Very understated hot."

Pete flushed. "You guys are exaggerating."

Vegas's jaw ticked.

Pete smiled shyly and murmured thanks again.

Kinn strolled up beside him like a man arriving to watch a show.
 "You good?" he asked, trying hard to sound casual.

"I'm fine," Vegas said tightly.

"You sure?" Kinn tilted his head. "Because if you grind your teeth any harder, we'll need to invoice the dentist."

Vegas didn't reply. But his grip on the file tightened—just a bit.

Kinn laughed and slapped his back. "Relax. It's just your feelings showing."

Vegas shot him a glare. "I don't have feelings."

Kinn smirked. "Tell that to your face."

Day 4

Thursday came dressed in sunshine, soft and golden through the office windows. The day moved slower than usual, filled with minor delays and waiting clients, the kind of day where tempers fray a little easier.

But not Pete.

Pete was calm. Focused. Dressed neatly again—today in a sky blue half-sleeved shirt tucked into cream chinos. Not as bold as Wednesday, but still polished enough to draw attention.

And people noticed.

Especially Mr. Day, who paused by Pete's desk mid-morning. "You've been consistent all week. Want to join me for a quick coffee meeting after lunch? Just a 15-minute catch-up."

Pete blinked. "Oh, um. Sure, I guess."

From the end of the room, Vegas heard it.

He wasn't trying to listen—he just was. Always listening now, even when he pretended not to.

Kinn, walking past at the exact moment, leaned in with a whisper:
"Fifteen minutes. That's long enough to confess, propose, and elope, you know."

Vegas didn't flinch. But he did exhale through his nose like he was holding back a war.

At the Coffee Lounge, Post-Lunch

Pete and Mr. Day were seated at one of the corner booths, leaning over a tablet, discussing UI transitions. From afar, it looked intimate—too focused, too aligned.

Vegas sat two tables away with Kinn and two junior managers.

He wasn't even supposed to be there. Kinn had dragged him along, saying, "Come on, it's coffee, not court."

Vegas stared at the lid of his cup, jaw set.

Kinn followed his gaze. "I'm gonna be honest, Vegas. You're so obvious it's like you're standing under a flashing arrow that says 'Jealous Boyfriend in Denial.'"

Vegas said nothing.

Kinn sipped his drink. "Honestly, if you stare any harder, you'll burn a hole through Mr. Day's shirt. Not that he'd notice, he's too busy being charming."

Vegas's fingers tightened around the paper cup.

"And," Kinn added lightly, "Pete's smiling again. You saw that, right?"

He did.

And it stung.

Later That Afternoon

Pete returned to his desk quietly, still holding the empty coffee cup. He looked around once, hesitated, then resumed work. Vegas had vanished.

Sky wandered over a while later, tossing a grin. "Coffee dates now? I see you."

Pete rolled his eyes. "It was just feedback."

"Mm-hmm," Sky said, teasing. "He leaned in so close I thought he was gonna redesign your breathing space."

Pete laughed nervously but said nothing.

What he didn't know—what he couldn't know—was that Vegas had walked by just before that moment, and caught the sound of Pete's laugh.

And that laugh stayed in his head for the rest of the day.