A Little Too Close
443 Words
The sun had dipped low over the resort, painting the terrace in shades of amber and rose. The evening breeze carried the faint scent of jasmine and salt from the sea. Amelia stepped onto the terrace, glass of champagne in hand, hoping for a moment of quiet after the whirlwind of family drama.
She wasn’t alone for long.
“Amelia,” Ethan’s voice called from the shadows near the railing.
She turned to see him leaning casually, jacket draped over one arm, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Her pulse quickened before she even realized it.
“Ethan,” she said, attempting casual. “Didn’t expect you out here.”
“I could say the same about you,” he replied smoothly. He stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers as he reached for a glass. The contact was fleeting—but electric.
Amelia’s chest skipped a beat.
⸻
They leaned against the railing side by side, gazing out at the ocean. Silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy. Charged.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Ethan remarked.
“I’m thinking,” she said softly. “About… everything.”
He tilted his head slightly, curious. “Everything?”
She hesitated, realizing how much she wanted to tell him how she felt, how much she wanted him to close the gap between them, to stop pretending this was just an arrangement.
“About us,” she whispered.
His hand moved—careful, deliberate—just enough to rest lightly against the small of her back. The warmth of him pressed against her, and her breath caught.
“You know this isn’t… real,” he said quietly.
“Doesn’t feel that way,” she admitted, voice low.
He shifted closer, their shoulders touching. The proximity made her pulse race. She could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of his cologne. It was maddeningly intimate, and yet, she didn’t pull away.
“You shouldn’t be thinking like that,” he murmured, gaze locked on hers.
“And yet I can’t stop,” she said, heart racing.
⸻
The moment stretched, taut and fragile. Then—unexpectedly—a laugh from the reception below jolted them back to reality. They stepped apart, breathing uneven, pretending composure as though nothing had happened.
But the tension lingered, unbroken.
As they returned to the room together, Ethan brushed past her hand with his fingers—just barely—but it left a shiver in its wake. Amelia realized, with both excitement and fear, that the line between pretend and real was disappearing faster than she could control.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted it to.
- Writer
