My Coworker and I Got Stuck Working Alone All Night… Then THIS Happened
I didn’t think anything weird would happen that night.
Just another late shift, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, vending machine humming like it had a personal vendetta against silence.
But by 2:00 a.m., it was just me and Neil.
And the kind of tension you don’t really notice until it’s already too late.
I’m Martin, and I work in IT support for a midsize logistics company.
Nothing glamorous.
Most nights are quiet, especially the overnight ones.
Usually, it’s just emails, a few system checks, maybe the occasional call from a driver who forgot his password for the 10th time.
Neil had only been working there for about 3 weeks.
He was the kind of guy you notice without trying to, not in an obvious, over-the-top way, just solid, calm, the kind of presence that fills a room without being loud about it.
Taller than me by a couple inches, broad shoulders, always wearing those simple black tees that somehow looked better on him than they had any right to.
And yeah, I noticed him.
Of course, I did.
But I also clocked something else early on.
He talked about girls casually, like it wasn’t a performance.
Mentioned an ex once, laughed about dates, so I filed him away in the not an option category and moved on like I always do.
At least that’s what I told myself.
That night started normal enough.
We were both scheduled for the overnight shift because the system was being updated and someone had to monitor everything in case it went sideways.
“Guess we’re stuck together,” Neil had said earlier, dropping into the chair across from mine with a tired grin.
“Could be worse,” I replied, trying to sound casual.
He smirked.
“Yeah, you saying I’m good company, Martin?”
I shrugged, eyes on my screen.
I’m saying you’re less annoying than most people here.
He laughed at that.
Real laugh, too.
Not forced, not polite.
It did something weird to my chest.
Like my body reacted before my brain had time to catch up.
The first few hours passed like any other shift.
Quiet, predictable.
We barely talked, just occasional comments about the system updates or random complaints about management.
But around midnight, things slowed down even more, like too quiet.
I leaned back in my chair, stretching a little.
You ever notice how this place feels different at night?
Neil glanced over.
Different how?
Like it’s not really meant for people to be here this late.
Feels off.
He tilted his head considering that.
Yeah, like we’re not supposed to exist right now.
I snorted.
Exactly.
There was a pause after that.
Not awkward, just longer than usual.
Then he said, “You do this shift often?”
“Not really.”
“You first time?”
He admitted.
“Kind of glad it’s with you, though.”
I looked up at that.
“Why?”
I asked.
He shrugged.
But there was something slightly more intentional in his tone now.
“You’re easy to be around.
It shouldn’t have meant anything.
It was a simple comment, friendly, but something about the way he said it stuck with me.
I turned back to my screen, trying to ignore the faint warmth creeping up my neck.
Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.
He chuckled softly, but didn’t say anything else.
Another hour passed.
Then another.
At some point, the system finished updating, which meant we were basically just there existing.
No tasks, no calls, just time dragging its feet.
Neil stood up suddenly, stretching his arms over his head.
His shirt lifted slightly, and I caught a glimpse of his lower back before I forced my eyes away.
“You hungry?”
He asked.
“Always,” I said.
He nodded toward the break room.
“Come on.
Let’s see if there’s anything worth eating in that depressing excuse for a fridge.”
I followed him, mostly because there was nothing else to do.
The breakroom lights were dimmer than the main office, casting everything in this softer, almost muted glow.
It made the whole place feel smaller, more private.
Neil opened the fridge, grimacing immediately.
“Yeah, no, that’s a biohazard.”
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
“Told you.”
He grabbed a couple of snacks from the vending machine instead, tossing one to me.
“Thanks,” I said, catching it.
We ended up sitting across from each other at the small table.
Unwrapping our food in that quiet late night haze where everything feels a little more real than it should.
For a while, we just ate.
Then Neil said out of nowhere, “Can I ask you something?”
I looked up.
“Depends,” he smirked slightly.
You always discarded only when people start sentences like that.
He leaned back in his chair, studying me for a second.
Not in a casual way, more focused.
Intentional.
I just feel like there’s more to you than you let on, he said.
My stomach tightened a little at that.
What makes you think that?
I asked.
He shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave mine.
I don’t know.
You just hold back like you’re filtering yourself all the time.
I let out a quiet laugh, trying to brush it off.
Or maybe I’m just boring.
Yeah, he said, shaking his head.
I don’t think that’s it.
There it was again.
That tone, subtle, but different.
I looked down at my snack, suddenly very aware of the silence between us.
All right, I said after a moment.
Your turn, then.
What’s your deal?
My deal?
Yeah.
You seem way too comfortable for someone who just started here.
He smiled at that, but it wasn’t his usual easy grin.
It was softer.
Almost nervous.
I just try not to overthink things, he said.
Must be nice.
Yeah, he added quietly.
Sometimes something shifted in the air.
Then it was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there.
And I had a feeling neither of us was going to ignore it for much longer.
I should have left it there.
That weird shift in the air.
I felt it definitely, but I also knew better than to lean into things like that, especially at work, especially with a guy like Neil.
Still, I didn’t get up.
Didn’t change the subject either.
Instead, I stayed right there across from him, like I was waiting for something I couldn’t quite name.
Neil broke the silence first.
“So,” he said, tapping his fingers lightly against the table.
“What do you do when you’re not here pretending to fix computers?”
I huffed a quiet laugh.
“I actually do fix computers.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he smirked.
“But outside of that,” I shrugged.
“Nothing exciting.
Gym.
Sometimes games, just normal stuff.
Jim, huh?
He said, eyes flicking over me for a second.
Not in a creepy way, just noticing.
That shouldn’t have made my chest tighten the way it did.
You?
I asked, shifting the focus back to him.
Used to play football, he said.
Not professionally or anything.
Just enough to keep me busy.
Explains a lot.
Like what?
I gestured vaguely at him.
You’ve got that?
I don’t know.
Energy.
He raised an eyebrow.
Energy?
Yeah, like you’re too comfortable in your own skin.
He laughed under his breath.
That a bad thing?
Depends who you ask.
And you?
He pressed.
I hesitated just a second too long.
I think it’s annoying, I said, even though it came out less convincing than I wanted.
He caught that.
Of course, he did.
Liar, he said quietly.
I rolled my eyes, but there was no bite to it.
You always this confident.
Only when I’m right.
That stupid half smile of his came back, and I hated how easily it got under my skin.
We fell into another pause after that, but this one felt heavier, like the conversation wasn’t really over, just circling something either of us had said yet.
I stood up first, grabbing my empty wrapper.
We should probably get back.
“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t move right away.
I walked past him toward the trash, and as I did, my arm brushed his shoulder.
It was nothing, barely even contact, but I felt it.
And the worst part, I couldn’t tell if he did too or if I was just reading into everything again.
Back at our desks, things felt different.
Same room, same dim lights, same low hum of machines.
But now I was aware of him in a way I hadn’t been before.
Every small movement, every shift in his chair, the sound of him exhaling quietly when he leaned back, it was distracting as hell.
You okay?
He asked suddenly.
I blinked, looking up from my screen.
Yeah.
Why?
You’ve been staring at the same thing for like 5 minutes.
I glanced at my monitor.
He wasn’t wrong.
Just tired, I muttered.
He studied me for a second like he didn’t fully buy it, but he let it go.
A few minutes passed.
Then he spoke again, quieter this time.
Can I be honest about something?
I sighed lightly.
You’re really into those tonight, huh?
He ignored that.
I think you avoid people.
That caught me off guard.
I looked at him.
What?
You keep things surface level.
He continued.
Jokes, sarcasm, but nothing real.
I frowned slightly.
You’ve known me for 3 weeks.
Doesn’t take that long to notice patterns.
There was no judgment in his voice.
That’s what made it worse.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms.
“And you’ve got me all figured out already?”
“No,” he said simply.
“But I think you’re used to keeping distance.”
Something about the way he said it, calm, certain, hit closer than I wanted it to.
I looked away, jaw tightening slightly.
Or maybe I just don’t overshare with co-workers.
Maybe, he admitted.
Or maybe you’re used to people not seeing you the way you want them to.
That did it.
I looked back at him sharper this time.
What’s that supposed to mean?
He held my gaze completely steady.
I think he said slowly.
You’re used to wanting things you don’t think you can have.
My stomach dropped.
For a second, I genuinely forgot how to respond.
Because that didn’t feel random.
That felt targeted.
You’re reading way too much into this, I said, but my voice wasn’t as firm as I wanted.
Am I?
There it was again.
That quiet, steady tone, like he already knew the answer.
I opened my mouth to push back again, but nothing came out because suddenly the room felt smaller, quieter, and the distance between us, it didn’t feel like distance anymore.
It felt like something waiting to be crossed.
Neil leaned back slightly, still watching me, not pushing, not joking, just there.
And for the first time that night, I started to wonder if being stuck here with him wasn’t just bad timing, but the beginning of something I wasn’t ready for.
I should have shut it down right there, made a joke, changed the subject, put that wall back up where it belong.
That’s what I always do.
But for some reason, I didn’t.
Instead, I just sat there staring at him like I was trying to figure out how the hell he’d gotten under my skin so fast.
“You don’t know me,” I said finally quieter now.
Neil didn’t react right away.
He just nodded slightly like he expected that.
“You’re right,” he said.
“I don’t.”
Another pause.
“But I can tell when someone’s holding back.”
My jaw tightened a little.
And you think you’re the guy who gets me to stop?
He leaned forward this time, resting his forearms on his knees.
Closer.
Not by much, but enough that I noticed.
I think, he said, voice low, but steady.
You’re not as hard to read as you think.
That hit somewhere uncomfortable.
I let out a breath through my nose, shaking my head.
You’re persistent.
I’ll give you that.
He smirked slightly.
You haven’t told me I’m wrong.
I didn’t answer that because I couldn’t.
And he knew it.
The silence stretched again, but now it felt different.
Charged like every second that passed was adding pressure instead of easing it.
I pushed my chair back slightly, breaking eye contact.
We should focus in case something actually breaks.
Martin.
The way he said my name, calm but firmer this time, made me stop.
I looked back at him.
He was already looking at me.
“Why does this bother you so much?”
He asked.
“It doesn’t?”
I said too quickly.
“Yeah,” he nodded slowly.
“It does,” I let out a short laugh, more out of nerves than anything.
“You always push this hard with people.”
“No,” he said.
Just when I feel like something’s there, my chest tightened again.
And what exactly do you think is there?
I asked quieter now.
He held my gaze for a second.
I think you feel it too.
That was it.
That was the moment everything shifted from maybe to definitely.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
You’re making a lot of assumptions.
Then tell me I’m wrong.
His voice wasn’t challenging.
It was steady.
Like he actually wanted me to say it, like he’d accept it if I did.
And that somehow made it harder.
I looked away first, running a hand through my hair.
This is stupid.
Why?
Because we’re at work, I said, gesturing around us.
Because it’s 2:00 a.m. and we’re both tired and bored.
And And what?
He pressed.
I exhaled sharply.
And you’re just reading into things that aren’t there.
Another pause then.
Okay.
I blinked, looking back at him.
He leaned back in his chair again, hands resting loosely in his lap.
Okay?
He repeated.
That wasn’t the reaction I expected.
No argument?
I asked.
He shook his head slightly.
If that’s what you think.
Something about that almost frustrated me more.
Neil, but answer me one thing.
He cut in gently.
I stopped.
What?
He watched me for a second, then said.
If there’s nothing there, why haven’t you walked away yet?
That landed harder than anything else, he’d said.
Because he was right.
I could have shut this down 10 minutes ago, gotten up, put space between us, ended it.
But I didn’t, and we both knew it.
The room felt quiet again, but not empty.
More like everything was holding its breath.
I leaned back slowly, eyes still on him.
“You don’t make it easy,” I admitted under my breath.
That earned a small, almost surprised smile from him.
“Good,” he said.
I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head.
“You’re unbelievable.
And you’re still here.”
There it was again.
That simple, undeniable truth.
I looked at him.
Really looked this time.
And something in my chest shifted in a way I couldn’t ignore anymore.
Even if there was something, I said slowly, choosing my words carefully.
It doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.
I didn’t say it had to, he replied.
Then what are you saying?
He held my gaze softer now.
I’m saying we don’t have to pretend it’s not there.
The honesty in that hit different.
No pressure, no expectations, just acknowledgement.
And somehow that made it worse or better.
I couldn’t tell anymore.
Another long silence settled between us, but this one didn’t feel tense.
It felt close, too close.
And when Neil finally shifted in his chair again, leaning just a little forward, I didn’t pull back.
I don’t know who moved first.
That’s the part that stuck with me later.
How it didn’t feel like a decision.
More like something we both just slipped into.
Neil leaned forward slightly.
I didn’t lean back.
That alone said more than anything we talked about all night.
We were still sitting across from each other, a desk between us, but it didn’t feel like a barrier anymore.
If anything, it felt like the only thing keeping this from tipping into something either of us could take back.
You’re really not going to stop, are you?
I muttered my voice quieter now.
He shook his head a little, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
You want me to?
That question hung there.
Simple, direct, dangerous.
I held his gaze for a second, then looked away.
I don’t know, I admitted.
That was the most honest thing I’d said all night.
And he noticed.
Of course he did.
Neil shifted in his chair again, slower this time, like he was giving me space to react.
But he didn’t pull away either.
Then we don’t rush it, he said.
That caught me off guard.
I looked back at him.
What?
He shrugged lightly.
We’re here all night anyway.
There was something almost grounding about that, like he wasn’t trying to push past my hesitation.
Just stay in the moment with me.
And for some reason that made it harder to keep my distance.
I let out a breath, leaning back slightly, trying to reset my head.
This is a bad idea, I said more to myself than him.
Probably, he agreed.
I blinked.
You’re not even going to argue.
No, he said simply.
Doesn’t make it less real.
That shut me up because yeah, that was the problem.
It did feel real, way more real than it should have for something that started as just another boring shift.
I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing toward the empty office around us.
Still quiet, still just the two of us.
Nothing’s changed, I said, trying to ground myself.
We still have to work together after this.
I know.
And you said yourself.
3 weeks.
You barely know me.
I know that, too.
I frowned slightly.
Then why are you so sure?
He didn’t answer right away.
Just watch me.
Then after a second, because I’ve been noticing it since my first week.
That made my chest tighten.
Noticing what?
You, he said.
Simple as that.
No hesitation, no overthinking, just you.
I let out a quiet, almost disbelieving breath.
That doesn’t make sense.
It does to me.
You don’t even.
I stopped myself, shaking my head.
You said you dated girls.
I did.
The way he said it wasn’t defensive, just factual.
Did?
I repeated.
He shrugged slightly.
I never really thought about it beyond that.
And now?
I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes stayed on mine.
Now I am.
That did something to me I wasn’t prepared for because it didn’t feel like a line.
It felt real, messy, uncertain, but real.
And somehow that made it harder to push away than if he’ just been confident or cocky about it.
I looked down for a second, processing that.
“You’re serious?”
I muttered.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Then I asked quieter.
And what if I’m not worth figuring out?
He didn’t even hesitate.
Then I’ll find that out.
I let out a small, almost nervous laugh.
You really don’t think things through, do you?
I do, he said.
I just don’t over complicate them.
I shook my head, but there was no real resistance left in it.
Because at some point, this stopped being about logic and started being about the way I felt sitting there with him.
The way the room seemed smaller, the way the silence wasn’t empty anymore, the way I wasn’t pulling away.
Neil shifted again, this time standing up.
My eyes followed him immediately.
“Relax,” he said lightly, noticing the way I tensed.
Just stretching.
I exhaled, but I didn’t look away as he walked around the desk.
That That felt different.
Closer.
Way closer.
Neil, I said, more of a warning than anything.
He stopped a couple feet from me.
Not crowding, not forcing anything.
Just there.
Yeah, he said quietly.
I swallowed suddenly, very aware of how little space there was between us.
Now, this is where it gets complicated or honest.
I let out a breath, my grip tightening slightly on the armrest of my chair.
Those aren’t the same thing.
Sometimes they are.
The way he said it, soft but certain, made it hard to argue.
And the worst part, I didn’t really want to anymore.
I looked up at him.
He was already looking at me.
And for a second, either of us moved.
Then slowly I stood up too.
Now we were face to face.
Close enough that I could feel the shift in his breathing.
Close enough that this wasn’t just tension anymore.
It was a choice.
And neither of us had made it yet.
Standing that close to him, everything felt louder.
Not the room still dead quiet, but my head, my heartbeat, the way my breath didn’t quite come out steady anymore.
Neil didn’t move.
That was the thing.
He wasn’t rushing me, wasn’t stepping in, wasn’t doing anything that would make this easy to blame on him.
He just stood there close enough that I could feel the heat off him, waiting.
“Say something,” I muttered, mostly because the silence was getting to me.
A faint smile pulled at his lips.
“You’re the one who stood up.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to regret it.
You don’t look like it.”
I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head.
You’re reading me wrong again.
Am I?
He asked softer now.
I didn’t answer.
Because if I did, I wasn’t sure what would come out.
We stayed like that for a few seconds, just looking at each other, either of us quite crossing that last inch of space.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t rushed.
It was tense in a quiet way.
The kind that builds slowly until it’s all you can focus on.
You can still walk away, he said.
That surprised me.
What?
He held my gaze.
I’m not going to stop you.
There was no challenge in it.
No pressure, just the option.
And for a second, I actually considered it.
Taking a step back, laughing it off, pretending this never happened.
Going back to being co-workers who barely knew each other.
It would have been easier, cleaner, safer.
But instead, I stayed exactly where I was.
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
“I know.”
His eyes flicked slightly like he caught the meaning behind that.
“You’re not going to, are you?”
He asked.
I exhaled slowly, my voice low.
“No, that was it.
That was the moment the line disappeared.
Not crossed, just gone.
Something shifted in his expression.
Not surprise, not victory, just something softer, more certain.
Okay, he said.
And then finally, he moved.
Not fast, not sudden, just a small step closer.
Close enough now that there wasn’t really space left to debate anything.
My chest tightened, but I didn’t move back.
Didn’t even think about it.
Martin,” he said quietly.
“Yeah.”
His hand lifted slightly, hesitating for just a second before resting lightly against my arm.
It was such a small touch, barely anything, but it hit harder than I expected, like everything we’d been circling all night suddenly had somewhere to land.
I glanced down at where his hand was, then back up at him.
“You’re sure about this?”
He asked.
I swallowed.
Are you?
Yeah, that was all he said, but it was enough.
I don’t know what made me do it.
Maybe it was the way he was looking at me.
Maybe it was the fact that I’d already stayed this long.
Or maybe I was just tired of overthinking everything.
But instead of pulling away, I leaned in just slightly at first, like I was giving myself one last chance to stop.
He didn’t close the distance.
Didn’t rush it.
He just stayed there, letting me decide.
And when I didn’t stop, that last bit of space disappeared.
It wasn’t intense.
Not at first, just a brief tentative contact.
The kind that feels more like a question than an answer, but the second it happened, I felt it.
That shift, that this is real now moment.
I pulled back just slightly, barely an inch.
My breath uneven.
Neil didn’t move far either.
We were still close.
Still right there.
“You good?”
He asked quietly.
I let out a small breath.
Half a laugh.
Yeah.
Yeah.
But I didn’t step away.
Didn’t break the space between us.
If anything, I stayed right there.
And after a second, so did he.
We didn’t move right away.
That was the strangest part.
I always thought moments like that would feel bigger, like something obvious would change instantly.
But instead, it was quiet, subtle, like everything had shifted, but only for us.
Neil’s hand was still on my arm, not gripping, not pulling, just there.
And I didn’t shake it off.
“You’re overthinking again,” he murmured.
I let out a small breath.
“I always do,” I noticed.
There was a faint smile in his voice and for some reason that helped.
Took the edge off whatever tension was still left, but not all of it because we were still standing way too close.
Still in that space where backing off would feel just as intentional as staying.
“So that just happened?”
I said, more to fill the silence than anything.
“Yeah,” he replied simply.
I glanced at him.
“You’re very calm about it.”
He shrugged a little.
I meant what I said earlier about not pretending.
Yeah.
I nodded slowly, looking down for a second.
Right.
You okay with it?
That question hit differently.
Not are you sure?
Not was that good.
Just are you okay with it?
I looked back at him and for the first time since this started, I didn’t feel cornered or unsure.
Just aware.
Yeah.
I said, “I think I am.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly at that, like he didn’t even realize he’d been holding tension.
“Good,” he said.
We stood there a second longer before I finally stepped back, just enough to breathe properly again.
Not pulling away, just resetting the distance.
Neil let his hand drop, but his eyes stayed on me.
“So, what now?”
I asked.
He tilted his head slightly.
Now we finish the shift.
I let out a short laugh.
That’s your plan.
Seems like a good one, he said.
Unless you had something else in mind.
The way he said that light but with that same underlying tone made my chest tighten again.
I shook my head, smirking a little.
You don’t quit, do you?
Not really.
Yeah, I noticed.
But there was no bite to it anymore.
If anything, it felt easier now.
Like whatever tension had been building all night had finally found somewhere to go.
We walked back to our desks after that.
But it didn’t feel like before.
Not even close.
Now there was this quiet understanding sitting between us.
Not awkward, just new.
I tried to focus on my screen again.
But it didn’t take long before I felt it.
That awareness of him again.
Only this time, it wasn’t frustrating.
It was grounding.
A few minutes passed before he spoke again.
Martin.
I glanced over.
Yeah.
He hesitated just slightly this time.
This doesn’t have to be weird.
I raised an eyebrow.
Feels like it probably should be.
He smiled faintly.
Maybe, but it doesn’t have to be.
I lean back in my chair, studying him.
You always this straightforward only when it matters.
I nodded slowly.
And this matters.
He met my eyes.
Yeah, that did something to me again.
Not intense.
Not overwhelming, just steady.
Real.
I looked away after a second, exhaling quietly.
All right, I said.
Then we don’t make it weird.
Deal.
But I added glancing back at him.
If this turns into a disaster, I’m blaming you.
He smirked.
Fair, and I mean that.
I know.
There was something about how easily he accepted that, like he wasn’t worried about it going wrong.
Or maybe he just wasn’t afraid if it did.
Either way, it made me feel a little less like I was stepping into something alone.
The rest of the shift passed differently.
We still talked, still worked.
But now there were these small moments layered in between everything else.
A glance that lasted a second too long.
A quiet comment that carried more weight than it should.
Nothing obvious, nothing anyone else would notice, but enough that I felt it every time.
And by the time the first hint of morning light started creeping through the windows, I realized something I hadn’t expected.
I wasn’t thinking about how complicated this was anymore.
I was thinking about what would happen after we walked out of here.
By the time the sun started coming up, everything felt unreal.
Not in a dramatic way, just that quiet, disorienting shift where something in your life changes and the world keeps going like nothing happened.
People started trickling into the office again.
Morning shift.
Coffee cups.
Small talk.
Normal.
Too normal.
Neil and I didn’t talk much during that last hour.
Not because it was awkward, but because we didn’t really need to.
Every now and then, I’d glance over.
Every time he was already looking at me, or just had been.
It wasn’t intense anymore.
Just there.
Like something settled between us overnight.
When our shift finally ended, I grabbed my bag, trying to act like this was just another day.
“Guess that’s it,” I said a little too casually.
Neil stood up across from me, stretching slightly.
“Yeah,” there was a small pause.
Then we both started walking toward the exit at the same time, side by side, not touching, but close enough that I was very aware of him again.
Outside, the early morning air hit different, cool, quiet, almost empty.
The parking lot was mostly clear, just a few cars scattered under that soft gray light.
We stopped near the curb.
This was usually the part where co-workers just split.
“All right,” I said, shifting my weight slightly.
“See you later, Martin.”
I paused, looking at him.
He hesitated for half a second like he was choosing his words more carefully this time.
“Are we pretending that didn’t happen?”
He asked.
“Straight to the point.”
“Of course,” I exhaled slowly, glancing off to the side for a second before looking back at him.
“No,” I said.
His expression eased just slightly.
Okay.
But I added, we’re also not acting like everything’s suddenly different.
He tilted his head a little.
It is different.
Yeah, I admitted.
But we don’t have to rush into whatever that means.
He nodded like he understood exactly what I was trying to say.
Fair.
Another pause.
God, we were doing that a lot.
I rubbed the back of my neck, letting out a quiet breath.
This is the part where it gets complicated.
Or honest, he said again, a faint hint of a smile returning.
I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the small smile that came with it.
You really like that line, huh?
Fitz?
He shrugged.
There was a beat of silence.
You want to get coffee?
He asked.
Just like that.
No buildup, no hesitation.
I blinked at him.
Right now?
Yeah.
I glanced at the empty street, then back at him.
We just spent 8 hours together.
And And now you want more?
A small smirk tugged at his mouth.
You complaining?
No, I admitted.
That seemed to be all the answer he needed.
There’s a place around the corner, he said.
Nothing fancy.
I hesitated for maybe half a second.
Yeah.
Okay.
We ended up sitting across from each other again.
Different table, different place, same feeling.
The cafe was quiet.
Early morning crowd just starting to build.
Soft music playing in the background.
The smell of coffee cutting through the last bit of that overnight haze.
For a while, it felt almost normal.
We talked about random things, work, dumb customers, the worst shifts we’d had.
But underneath it, that same awareness was still there, unspoken, but constant.
At some point, there was a lull in the conversation.
Neil stirred his coffee absent-mindedly, then looked up at me.
“So, what are you thinking?”
He asked.
I raised an eyebrow.
“About this?”
He didn’t need to explain.
I leaned back slightly, exhaling through my nose.
“Honestly,” I said.
Yeah, I think I didn’t expect any of it.
He nodded.
Same.
And I don’t really know what it means yet.
Fair.
I studied him for a second.
You seem pretty okay with not knowing.
I am.
How?
He shrugged.
Because I know how it feels.
That answer stuck.
I looked down at my coffee, turning the cup slightly between my hands.
Yeah, I said quietly.
Me, too.
Another pause.
But this one felt easier, like we weren’t circling something anymore.
We were just sitting in it.
Neil leaned back slightly, watching me.
So, we figure it out, he said.
I looked up.
Yeah.
Yeah.
I let out a small breath, a faint smile pulling at my mouth.
Okay.
And for the first time since that night started, it didn’t feel like something I needed to overthink.
It just felt like something worth seeing through.
