After Hours
312 Words
Ava had been burning the midnight oil for hours, finalizing a presentation that wasn’t due for another week, her office dimly lit with only the soft hum of fluorescent lights above. She shut her laptop finally, stretching her shoulders and letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
She stepped into the elevator to leave.
And froze.
He was already there.
Jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened — less composed than he usually was. But that made him more human. More dangerous.
“Late night?” he asked, voice calm, but carrying an edge she couldn’t ignore.
“Unfortunately,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
The doors closed.
The elevator jolted violently. Lights flickered. And then — stopped.
Emergency lights cast a dim, red glow, turning the confined space into something intimate, almost private.
“Looks like we’re stuck,” she said, trying to sound casual, but her throat felt tight.
He pressed the emergency button. No response.
The space between them suddenly felt impossibly small. Warmer. Charged.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“Yes.” Her pulse betrayed her.
Another jolt rattled the car. Instinctively, he shifted closer, one hand bracing against the wall beside her shoulder. Not touching her. Not yet. Just close enough.
“I’ve wanted to talk to you for months,” he admitted.
Her heart raced. “Then why didn’t you?”
“Because I don’t start something unless I intend to finish it.”
Her pulse spiked. “And what exactly would you be starting?”
His eyes dropped — slowly, deliberately — to her lips.
“Trouble,” he murmured.
The confined elevator, the emergency lights, the tension between them — it was suffocating. Yet it felt inevitable.
Ava realized in that moment that this wasn’t just attraction. This was something far deeper. Something neither of them could stop.
- Writer
