When she walked in, the newsroom burst into half-playful applause. Chairs squeaked, and someone banged a pen on the desk like a drumroll.
Harper whistled. “Look at our new star.”
Savannah raised both hands in mock surrender. “It was just a good night.”
“Don’t be modest,” Harper said. “You saved us from another city council recap.”
Aimee called her into the glass office before she could even set down her bag. “That was strong work, Wells. Exactly the kind of edge we’ve been missing. Keep it up.”
“Thank you,” Savannah said, careful to sound level, like she was used to that kind of praise.
“Seriously,” Aimee added. “That kind of tenacity gets noticed.”
Out in the bullpen, Tilly was prepping for the next shoot, headphones around their neck, expression unreadable. Savannah caught their eye through the glass, ready for something — a smirk, maybe even a reluctant nod.
Something that said they’d seen her.
Nothing.
The laughter from Harper’s desk filled the space between them. Savannah adjusted the strap on her bag and told herself it didn’t matter. But it did.
When she stepped out of Aimee’s office, Tilly was packing up near the gear room. Savannah hesitated, then crossed over before she could talk herself out of it.
“Hey,” she said.
Tilly looked up, one brow raised. “Hey.”
Savannah shifted her weight, trying to land somewhere between friendly and confident. “I watched the edit again this morning. It cut really smoothly.”
“Yeah.”
“You made it work.”
Tilly’s mouth twitched — not quite a smile, not quite not. “That so?”
“Guess we make a decent team,” she said, lighter than she felt.
Tilly slung the camera bag over their shoulder. “You got the views. I just rolled.”
The jab landed sharper than she expected. “That’s one way to say thank you,” Savannah said before she could stop herself — sharper than she meant.
Like she cared.
Tilly paused in the doorway. “I thought you were the one saying it.”
Savannah blinked. “Wait—no, that’s not what I meant.”
But Tilly was already moving. Savannah caught the strap of her bag, hesitated, then followed a few steps into the hallway. “Hey, I meant it. About the edit. You’re good at what you do.”
Tilly didn’t slow. “Appreciate it.”
It wasn’t cold, just final.
Which somehow felt worse.
Savannah stopped where the hall bent toward the side exit, hands shoved into her pockets. She could still hear the hum of the newsroom behind her, the faint echo of her name being said somewhere she couldn’t quite reach.
She’d meant to sound grateful. Somehow, she’d still managed to sound like herself instead — and watched the moment slip before she could fix it.
