OFFICE
1175 Words
AVA
By the time the sun dipped behind the ocean, the house was unrecognizable.
What had started as a speaker, and a grocery store cake had turned into a full-blown party—music thundering through the walls, lights dimmed, bodies moving, laughter spilling out of every corner.
Apparently Ariana’s version of “just a few people” meant half the coastline.
People spilled from room to room with drinks in hand, the air thick with heat and perfume and that careless kind of joy that only exists when the night is new and you’re young enough to believe nothing bad can happen.
Ariana grabbed my arms dramatically. “Look at you!” she shouted over the music. “Birthday girl finally letting loose!”
The dress she forced me into was red, far too fitted, and way more confident than I felt, but tonight… it somehow worked.
Dance after dance, laugh after laugh, I felt lighter. The house glowed, the people blurred, and for a while, the anxiety that had been sitting in my chest all afternoon dissolved into the music.
The second the front door opened quietly.
The presence sliding into the house like a shadow slipping under a door.
It wasn’t until later that Ariana told me he had walked in thirty minutes earlier.
My chest tightened. My skin prickled. I needed air.
Ariana was laughing with someone, already swept into another conversation. She didn’t see me slip away.
I wound through the bodies, past the heavy bass, past the glow of the kitchen lights, until I reached the quiet hallway at the back of the house.
I exhaled, leaning my head back. “God. Thank you.”
Without thinking, I walked farther, feet carrying me toward the room at the end of the hall.
I shouldn't have gone there.
I knew that.
I pushed the door open gently and slipped inside.
Soft lamplight.
The faint scent of cedar.
Shelves lined with books and clean architectural models.
A massive desk—dark wood, defined edges—anchoring the room.
I stepped farther in, fingers brushing the edge of a meticulously arranged stack of papers. The room hummed with a kind of restrained energy.
I exhaled slowly, letting the silence settle around me. My heartbeat slowed. My mind cleared.
For the first time that night, I could breathe.
My eyes drifted toward the balcony doors on the far side of the office, cracked open just enough for the ocean breeze to slide through. The moonlight spilled in softly, silvering the floor.
Drawn to it, I walked closer.And that’s when I felt it.
A shift in the air—subtle but sharp.
The sense of a gaze on the back of my neck
I froze.
A quiet voice cut through the room.
“You’re a long way from the party.”
My breath caught. My pulse jumped.
I turned slowly.
Damian Hart stood in the shadows near the windows - impossibly composed in a tailored charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled high enough to expose the lines of his forearms.
He hadn’t turned on the lights when he entered. He had simply been there, watching me walk into his space .
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
He stepped forward, the moonlight catching the sharp lines of his jaw.
He looked nothing like Ariana’s cereal-eating, sock-sorting dad.
“How long,” he murmured, “have you been wandering around my house?”
My stomach flipped, heat crawling up my neck. “I—I just needed a minute. The party was getting loud.”
“And you chose my office ?”
I swallowed. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Clearly.”
The air between us tightened.
“Does my presence make you nervous?” he murmured.
My breath trembled. “I… don’t know.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “You do.”
The floor felt unsteady beneath me. My fingers brushed the edge of the desk for balance.
He watched the movement, eyes darkening.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said slowly, voice dropping. “You shouldn’t be near me at all.”
My heart hammered, but I couldn’t step back.
“And yet,” he continued, gaze locking onto mine, “here you are.”
My pulse stuttered.
The music thumped faintly from the distant living room.
Damian moved closer again, close enough that the lamplight slid across the planes of his face.
His eyes dragged from my lips to my throat and back .
“Tell me,” he murmured, voice brushing over my skin. “Do you always walk into danger… so willingly?”
My breath hitched.
“I didn’t know it was danger,” I whispered.
He stepped into my space completely now, his body a breath away from mine.
“You do now.”
The room tilted. My vision narrowed. Then he lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear—the same touch that would ignite everything in me.
The same touch that would undo me.
“Careful, Ava,” he whispered, voice a low warning that felt like a promise. “If you stay in this room… everything changes.”
My heart pounded. “I don’t—”
He leaned closer, so close his breath warmed my neck.
“Don’t what?” he murmured. “Don’t want that?”
I swallowed, trembling. “I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
The first step toward the fire I would later walk straight into.
The door behind us clicked softly as the wind shifted through the balcony, sealing us in the moment.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.
“I’m… cold.”
“No.” His eyes held mine, dark and steady. “You’re not.”
“You don’t get to assume things about me,” I whispered.
“I’m not assuming.”
His breath brushed my cheek.
“I’m observing.”
“Tell me why you came here,” he said.
“I told you. I needed air.”
“You had air everywhere.” Another step closer. “But you came here.”
I swallowed. “Because it’s the only place where no one could bother me.”
“You could’ve asked me to leave,” he said softly.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“But you didn’t walk out when you found me.”
“Look at me,” he said.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.
My pulse jumped. “Like what?”
“Like you’re wondering what would happen if you stayed in this room with me.”
My breath caught.
“That’s not what I’m thinking.”
His voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper.
“Then why can’t you walk away?”
Damian stepped even closer—until the heat of his body soaked into mine and every breath felt stolen.
“Ava…”
“Tell me you don’t feel anything,” he whispered. “Right now. In this room. Between us.”
- Writer
