Page 41 of Surprise Me Tonight
He picks up on the second ring. His voice is lower than usual, quieter, like he’s expecting bad news.
“Stella?”
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you—”
“You didn’t.” A pause. “I thought maybe something was wrong.”
There’s an edge in his voice that does something to my chest — not worry exactly, but concern, care, that subtle protective tone he probably doesn’t even realise he uses.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” I say. “I just… I was lying here and thinking… about these rules.”
There’s a beat of silence. And then, I swear, I hear a smile in his voice.
“Ah.The rules.”
I grin despite myself. “I thought it might be a good idea to talk about them before we do something else reckless.”
“Smart,” he says, tone soft now. More serious. “Go on, then.”
I roll onto my side, tuck the duvet under my chin. My heart beats steadily, but louder than it should. “We keep things separate. No touching during working hours.”
“No touching?” he repeats, dry.
I raise an eyebrow to no one. “That includes desk-related activities, lingering stares, and you hovering behind me in the kitchen pretending to reach for something.”
There’s a low breath from his end — the kind that’s nearly a laugh but not quite.
“All right,” he says. “No hovering. No staring. No bending you over the desk while you’re reviewing invoices.”
“Exactly.”
Silence stretches. Comfortable, but charged.
He speaks again, voice more grounded now. “And if either of us wants to stop… we stop. No hard feelings. No fallout.”
“Yes,” I say. “And I keep my job.”
“Stella,yes. Of course. You keep your job no matter what. That’s not a line I’m willing to blur.”
I swallow. “Good.” An outside might call us both native because if it all falls apart is he really going to stick to that but for now I am willing to believe his promise.
Another pause. “Anything else?”
I hesitate. “If it starts to feel like too much, if I need space… you’ll give it?”
“I’ll give it,” he says without missing a beat. “But you have tosayit. Don’t shut down on me.”
“I’m not good at this.”
“Neither am I,” he says quietly. “But I want to try.”
I turn my head into the pillow, the phone still warm against my ear. My heart is loud in my chest. Not panicked — just alive. Awake.
“Can I tell you something?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
“Anything.”
I pause. Long enough for the silence to stretch. I almost tell him never mind. Almost say it’s late, that I’m tired, that it doesn’t matter.
