Something flickered across her face — maybe relief, maybe something else — and she nodded. “Okay.”
They walked to the truck. This time, Savannah didn’t hang back several steps. She walked beside them, close enough that their jackets brushed once before she pulled an inch away.
Tilly didn’t comment.
Didn’t look at her.
Didn’t let themself want anything.
Inside the truck, Savannah buckled in and stared at her notebook while Tilly started the engine, the air tight for a few beats before it turned over.
“Music?” Tilly asked.
“Sure.”
They kept the volume low.
Halfway down the street, Savannah cleared her throat. “Did you sleep okay?”
The question hit harder than it should’ve.
“Eventually,” Tilly said.
“Oh.” She hesitated. “Yesterday was… weird. I hope it wasn’t too—”
“Work gets weird sometimes,” Tilly said. “It’s not a big deal.”
She looked out the window for a long moment. “It felt like a big deal.”
Their fingers tightened on the wheel. They softened their hold.
“You were tired,” they said. “We both were. Long week.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Long week.”
The silence that followed wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t yesterday’s silence — the kind that sliced open your sternum. This one was… muted. Manageable.
At the river, everything was brisk and straightforward. They got the VO/SOT done fast. Savannah hit her lines on the first take. Tilly framed her clean, checked audio twice, and avoided letting their eyes linger on the way the wind lifted her hair.
They moved like a team — not the team they were becoming before the hotel, but something functional. Something steady.
Back at the station, Tilly dumped footage in an edit bay while Savannah wrote in a booth across the hall. Harper walked by, glanced between them, and raised one eyebrow at Tilly in a way that said,We’re talking later.Tilly ignored it.
The VO/SOT made the slot. The producer was happy. Things kept moving.
Near the end of their shift, Tilly ducked into the break room for more coffee. The pot was nearly empty. Of course. They coaxed the last sad inch into their mug.
Footsteps approached behind them.
Savannah stopped in the doorway, fingers curled around her empty cup. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
She crossed to the counter. “I can start another pot.”
“Thanks.”
As she reached for the filter box, her sleeve brushed the back of their hand. She froze. Tilly pretended they didn’t feel it.
