-POV Derby
The days after the pantry blurred together in a dangerous haze of stolen touches and quiet denial.
I told myself I was still trying to create distance. I told myself that the way Jordan’s hand found the small of my back every morning when he walked me through the building was just habit, that the coffee appearing on my desk exactly the way I liked it was coincidence, that the way he looked at me across the open-plan office — dark, focused, completely locked on me — didn’t make my pulse race and my thighs press together under the desk.
But I was lying to myself.
Every time I tried to pull away, every time I told myself “just one more day of space,” Jordan remained. Not loud. Not forceful. He simply existed in my life with a quiet, relentless presence that made the distance I
