What are We?
773 Words
Zara didn’t want to open her eyes.
Jason’s sheets were soft. His chest was warm beneath her cheek. His arm was wrapped tightly around her waist like he was afraid she might vanish in the morning light.
And maybe she was.
Because this? This was dangerous.
It felt too good.
She blinked slowly and looked up.
Jason was already awake, watching her.
“You sleep like a cat,” he said softly, running his fingers along the dip of her spine.
“I do not.”
“You curled into me like one. All claws and silk.”
She smiled despite herself.
Then she sat up, dragging the sheet along with her.
“I should go.”
Jason sat up beside her. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze. “But I need space to think.”
“To think about what?”
She didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t sure what scared her more: how fast she was falling, or how badly she wanted to fall.
---
Back at the office, things were strange.
Everyone went about their work, but Zara felt like she was moving through water—slow, heavy, overly aware of her own breathing.
Jason kept his distance. No looks. No touches. Not even a flirty Post-it.
Maybe that was for the best.
Still, it stung.
---
That afternoon, she was in the elevator when the doors opened and Jason stepped in.
He looked sharp—navy suit, crisp shirt, no tie. He smiled briefly but stood on the other side of the car.
Professional.
“Meeting later with the Marigold client,” he said casually.
Zara nodded. “I’ll prep the brand copy for the slide deck.”
A pause.
Then, “You look good today,” he murmured, low enough that the intern beside them couldn’t hear.
Her lips curved, heart skipping.
But when the elevator opened again, he left without looking back.
---
It wasn’t until Thursday that the unease began.
She was walking back from a café run when she spotted Jason across the street.
He wasn’t alone.
A woman was with him. Tall, elegant, smartly dressed in a body-hugging cream set. She laughed at something Jason said, her hand brushing his arm like it belonged there.
Zara froze.
She knew that laugh.
Vanessa.
The name from his phone the night of their almost-kiss.
Her stomach tightened.
Jason hadn’t seen her. Or if he did, he didn’t react.
She watched them disappear into a black sedan together.
Her iced coffee felt suddenly irrelevant.
---
That night, she didn’t reply to his text.
Not even the second one.
When he called, she let it ring out.
---
The next morning, he found her by the stairwell, sipping coffee alone.
“You’re dodging me.”
Zara didn’t look at him. “I’ve been busy.”
“Try again.”
She folded her arms. “Who’s Vanessa?”
Jason’s jaw tensed. “Business.”
“You looked pretty cozy for business.”
He sighed, stepping closer. “Zara…”
“Is she your ex? Your maybe-again? Your backup?”
“She’s nothing to me.”
“You’re something to me,” she snapped. “And I’m not about to sit back and play the fool while you entertain someone else.”
Jason stepped forward, backing her against the wall. His voice was low, rough. “Do you think I’d sleep with you, say what I said, and then parade someone else around in front of you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she said, voice trembling.
He paused, then reached for her waist. “Then let me make it clear.”
---
He kissed her.
Hard.
Like he needed her to understand—no words, just mouth, heat, breath, desperation.
She kissed him back, fingers clawing into his shirt, pulling him close until she felt the wall behind her and his body pressed firmly in front.
He lifted her slightly off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist out of instinct, skirt riding high on her thighs.
Her moan was muffled against his mouth.
“Not here,” she gasped.
“Then stop kissing me like that,” he growled.
She shoved him gently away, breathless and red-cheeked.
“I’m still mad at you,” she muttered.
“I’ll earn it back,” he said, brushing her lips with his thumb.
---
She walked away, heels clicking, hips swaying.
Jason adjusted his tie, smirked, and followed two minutes later—because he knew exactly where this was headed.
And he wasn’t about to let her run far.
- Writer
