Uninvited feelings
642 Words
Zara’s heels clicked against the marble floor as she made her way toward the elevator. The office was mostly empty—Friday night had drained the energy from everyone but her and a few caffeine-addicted editors. She’d stayed late again, polishing the mock campaign Jason had asked her to draft for a lifestyle brand.
She hated how much she wanted to impress him.
“Late again?”
She jumped at his voice. Jason stepped out of his office, jacket slung over his shoulder, tie loose, top button undone.
Dangerously undone.
“Deadline,” she said.
“You always wait until everyone’s gone before leaving?”
“Easier that way.”
He nodded, then offered a small smile. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”
She hesitated.
“Just a ride,” he added. “Nothing complicated.”
---
His car was warm, soft jazz playing faintly through the speakers. The scent of him—fresh, expensive, masculine—filled the space. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat, clutching her bag like a shield.
“You okay?” he asked, glancing at her.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
She laughed bitterly. “You think you know everything.”
“I know when someone’s building a wall mid-conversation.”
Zara sighed. “Do you ever stop trying to read people?”
Jason’s jaw flexed. “Only when I want to forget who I am.”
That silenced her.
He turned into a quieter street and parked in front of her building. The rain had returned, tapping gently against the windshield. Neither of them moved.
“Why do you do it?” she asked suddenly.
He looked at her. “Do what?”
“Work like this. Own a company, run a team, stalk interns with red pens.”
Jason chuckled. “You think I stalk you?”
“I think you care too much about my grammar.”
He leaned slightly closer, his eyes steady on hers. “Maybe I care about more than that.”
Zara’s breath caught.
The air between them shifted. His hand brushed her hair back from her cheek. His thumb lingered along her jaw. She didn’t flinch.
“I shouldn’t,” he said softly.
“Then don’t,” she whispered.
But he didn’t pull away.
Neither did she.
Their faces were inches apart. The storm outside mirrored the one building in her chest. Her body leaned forward before her mind could catch up. His breath hitched.
Then—his phone rang.
The sound sliced through the moment.
Jason pulled back, sighing. He glanced at the screen: “Vanessa – 9:24 PM.”
Zara’s stomach dropped.
She turned away, already reaching for the door handle.
“Zara—”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t say anything.”
“It’s not—”
“I don’t care,” she snapped. “Whoever she is—she’s someone. And I’m not trying to be anyone’s second option.”
“It’s not like that.”
She stepped out into the rain without another word.
He didn’t follow.
---
By the time she reached her apartment, her hair was soaked, her heart was pounding, and her thoughts were a mess.
Why had she almost kissed him?
Why had it felt like more than attraction?
And why did it hurt?
She dropped her keys, cursed under her breath, and leaned against the door, eyes closed.
Jason Okwudili was supposed to be her boss, not her undoing.
She wouldn’t let herself fall. Not again. Not for someone with secrets and late-night calls from other women.
No matter how good it had felt to be wanted—for a moment.
She peeled off her wet clothes, crawled into bed, and stared at the ceiling.
But she couldn’t sleep.
Because every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.
- Writer
