Chapter Five
1135 Words
Xander.
The elevator doors close as I step out. I find myself standing there longer than I should. Composed, calm, the perfect mask. But something inside me shifts.
She handled herself better than most would after a panic attack. She laughed, even. I can still hear it. Light, unguarded, soft around the edges.
When the lights came back on, I told myself to step away. I didn’t.
Now she’s walking out of the building alone, clutching my jacket like armor, and every logical part of me says to let her go. But I don’t.
“Miss Sinclair,” I call, striding toward her. She turns, startled.
“Mr. Vale?”
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
Her eyes widen a little. “Oh— that’s not necessary. Really, I’m fine.”
“I don’t take no for an answer,” I say, my tone even but firm. “At least not after a situation like that.”
She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again. “Right. Okay.”
I gesture toward the car waiting outside. The driver opens the door, but I wave him off. “I’ll drive.”
Her brows lift slightly, curiosity flickering in her gaze. She doesn’t say anything, just slips into the passenger seat. The faint scent of vanilla follows her in, warm and distracting.
We drive in silence for a few minutes. City lights blur past, soft and gold against the night. She fiddles with the hem of my jacket still draped around her shoulders.
“You can keep it,” I say quietly.
She glances at me, a small, surprised smile playing on her lips. “You’re just giving your jacket away to employees now?”
“Only the ones who look like they’d rather freeze than admit they need it.”
She laughs, and the sound hits somewhere I didn’t know existed.
When the next intersection comes up, I turn unexpectedly.
She frowns. “That’s not the way to my place.”
“I know,” I reply, slowing the car near a small corner shop. “I need to make a stop.”
She tilts her head, watching as I step out. A few minutes later, I return with two small paper cups and spoons.
“Is this… ice cream?” she asks, amused.
“Vanilla,” I say, handing her one. “It helps. My sister used to have panic attacks. This always calmed her down.”
Her eyes soften. “The lady from the bus?”
I nod. “You remember.”
“I thought she was your girlfriend,” she says, teasingly.
That makes me smile— the first real one in days. “No. She’s my sister. Isla.”
She exhales, a tiny laugh escaping. “Good. I mean— not good that she had panic attacks, but—”
“I understand” I laugh, a knowing one.
She blinks. “Wait, your sister was on a bus?”
I huff a quiet laugh. “She’s… stubborn. After her license was suspended, she refused to let anyone drive her. Said taking the bus made her feel like a normal person again.” I shake my head slightly. “She has a flair for dramatics. Always has.”
We both laugh quietly, and the air in the car shifts. It’s no longer just employer and employee. It’s… something else. Something quieter, more dangerous.
She dips her spoon into the ice cream, takes a small bite, then leans back against the seat. “This is actually really good.”
“I know.”
“You’re not going to eat yours?”
“I don’t usually eat sweets.”
She narrows her eyes. “You brought two. Be polite and at least pretend.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “You’re very bossy for someone who just joined the company.”
She smirks. “Occupational hazard.”
Her words echo the ones she threw at me earlier during her test— and somehow, they sound softer now, threaded with humor. I look at her, really look and something in my chest stirs.
The glow from the streetlight catches the side of her face— her lashes, the slope of her nose, the faint tremble of her lips from the cold. She has that kind of beauty that sneaks up on you. Unpolished, unintentional. Real.
I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Get it together, Vale.
But I can’t seem to ignore her. The way she curls into my jacket, like it belongs there. The way she hums under her breath as she eats. The way her hand accidentally brushes mine when she passes back the cup and how that small touch feels like a static spark running through my veins.
She catches me watching her and raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say smoothly, turning back to the road. “You just… talk a lot with your hands.”
She laughs again, that sound filling the space between us.
For a man who thrives in silence, I find that I don’t mind the noise.
When we reach her street, she unbuckles her seatbelt slowly, like she’s not entirely ready to step out. Neither am I.
“Thank you,” she says. “For this. The ride, the ice cream… and for not freaking out in the elevator.”
“I don’t freak out,” I reply, then pause. “But you’re welcome.”
Her smile widens, then fades into something softer. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”
“How did you think I’d be?”
“Colder,” she admits. “Untouchable. But you’re… kind.”
Kind. It’s not a word I hear often. I don’t know what to do with it, so I just nod.
I get out first, walking around to her side. She steps out, and for a moment, we just stand there in the quiet night.
The streetlight above casts a warm glow on her skin. She looks up at me, eyes bright despite the exhaustion.
“Goodnight, Mr. Vale,” she says softly.
“Goodnight, Aria.”
Her name tastes different when I say it— familiar yet new. She turns to unlock her door, and I linger, watching her silhouette disappear inside.
When I finally walk back to the car, my pulse still hasn’t settled. I slide into the driver’s seat and sit there for a long moment, staring at the empty space beside me.
The faint scent of vanilla ice cream and her shampoo lingers in the air.
I tell myself it’s nothing. Just a moment. Just an employee.
But as I start the engine, my hands tighten on the wheel. Because deep down, I already know— it’s not nothing.
It never was.
- Writer
