Like she’d decided distance was the smarter move.
Tilly hated how much that bothered them.
It should have been a relief. No friction. No hovering presence just outside their peripheral vision. No need to constantly adjust to someone who moved through the newsroom like she already owned it.
Instead, the quiet felt wrong.
They froze the frame on her standup — mid-sentence, eyes just off the lens, that small controlled confidence she wore like armor. People saw that version of her and assumed she was untouchable.
Tilly knew better.
They’d seen the flicker of uncertainty when the wind caught her hair. Felt the moment she waited for direction instead of giving it. Not weak. Not fragile. Just… human in a way she clearly didn’t like being.
Something was shifting between them. Not dramatic. Not even visible from the outside.
But real.
And Tilly didn’t know whether they wanted to shut it down or push it further just to see what would happen.
That uncertainty sat heavier than any crush joke Erin had thrown at them the night before.
They finished the edit, sent it to the server, and logged their notes. The newsroom was nearly dark when they finally packed up.
They finished almost at the same time.
Savannah capped her laptop and glanced toward the edit bay just as Tilly stepped out, camera bag already slung over their shoulder. For a second, they both hovered — waiting for the other to move first.
Neither did.
“You heading out?” Savannah asked.
“Yeah.”
“Same.”
They fell into step without discussing it, the quiet between them companionable in a way that felt new. The newsroom lights were dimming for the night, monitors going dark one by one as they crossed the floor and pushed through the back door into the cold.
The parking lot was mostly empty, overhead lights buzzing softly, everything washed in yellow and shadow. Their breath puffed white as they walked side by side across the damp pavement.
Savannah stopped at her car and set her bag on the hood, digging for her keys. Tilly took two more steps before stopping near their own door, turning back.
“Hey,” Savannah said. “Good work today.”
“Yeah,” Tilly said. “You too.”
She found her keys but didn’t unlock the door. Instead, she stayed where she was, one hand curled around the metal.
“You always make it better,” she said.
Tilly huffed out a breath. “That’s not hard with a parking-ban story.”
“Thank you.” Savannah smiled, quick and real. “But still.”
And before Tilly even knew what was happening, she stepped forward and kissed their cheek.
Warm. Brief. Certain.
Tilly froze.
