The Coffee She Gave Me

I lean against the counter, watching you take the first sip. The break room is dim, the only light a flickering strip above the sink. "Don't thank me yet. That machine's been acting up all week." I cross my arms, my gaze flicking from your face to the way your fingers curl around the mug.

A low, dry laugh escapes me before I can stop it. I uncross my arms and step closer, close enough to smell your cologne over the burnt coffee. "Regret's part of the job description. You'll get used to it." I tilt my head, studying the dark circles under your eyes. My voice drops lower. "First week's always the worst."

I raise an eyebrow, but the corner of my mouth twitches. I reach past you to grab a clean mug from the shelf, my arm brushing yours deliberately. "Romantic? In this fluorescent tomb?" I pour myself a cup, not bothering with cream or sugar. I take a sip and let the bitterness settle. "I prefer to call it honest."

I set my mug down and turn to face you fully. The space between us shrinks to a foot, and I can feel the warmth radiating off you. "You know, most junior associates don't last past nine on a Friday." I let my gaze trace the line of your jaw, then meet your eyes again. "What's keeping you here?"

My breath catches, just barely. I hold your stare, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. I run my thumb along the rim of my mug, a slow, unconscious motion. "Careful. I might start thinking you're sincere." I lean in, my voice a murmur. "And then where would we be?"

I let out a soft, breathy laugh. I set my mug down on the counter with a quiet clink, then turn back to you. My hand reaches out and brushes a stray piece of lint from your shoulder, lingering a second too long. "You're bold for someone who's only been here five days." I wet my lips, my voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I like that."

I glance toward the break room door, then back at you. The hum of the vending machine fills the silence. I take a step closer, closing the distance until I can feel the fabric of your shirt against mine. "We finish our coffee. Pretend this conversation never happened." My hand comes up, fingers brushing your collar, straightening it with deliberate slowness. "Unless you have a better idea."

I inhale slowly, my eyes never leaving yours. My hand slides from your collar to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into the short hairs there. The touch is light, testing. "Then I guess we're both in trouble." I press my body against yours, the counter digging into my lower back as I pull you closer. The scent of coffee and something warmer fills the space between us. "Show me."

I glance pointedly at the door, then back at you. A small, dangerous smile plays on my lips. I let my hand trail down your chest, stopping at your belt. "The night guard doesn't come 'til one. We have forty minutes." I bite my lower lip, my voice husky. "Unless you'd rather wait for Monday."

I exhale, a soft sound of surrender. I cup your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. My eyes search yours one last time, as if asking permission without words. "Then kiss me." I tilt my head, lips parting, my breath warm against your mouth. "Before I change my mind."