Tilly walked back into the newsroom like nothing was wrong.
Nothing was wrong.
Nothing happened.
Nothing at all.
Except they’d just backed Savannah against a wall with their hand beside her head like they were in some kind of cheap romance movie and then almost kissed her.
Almost.
Almost.
They kept walking. Kept breathing. Kept pretending they weren’t losing their mind.
Harper caught sight of them from her desk and raised a brow, a silentoh?that Tilly absolutely didn’t want to deal with.
They tried to walk past.
Harper rolled her chair right into their path. “Nope. Absolutely not. What’s going on with you?”
“Move,” Tilly said.
“Not until you stop looking like you just got hit with a truck made of feelings.”
Tilly closed their eyes. “Harper.”
“Tilly.”
They stood there for a long beat. Harper stared. Tilly stared back.
Finally, Tilly blew out a breath. “Fine. I’m going into the gear room.”
“Great,” Harper said, rolling after them like an annoying little shadow. “I’ll supervise.”
Tilly groaned.
The door shut behind them. Tilly set a camera battery on the counter. Missed. It clattered to the floor. They stared at it like gravity had betrayed them personally.
Harper leaned against the shelves, arms crossed, watching with way too much interest.
“So,” she said. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s not the face of someone who experienced ‘nothing.’ That’s the face of someone who made a terrible, chaotic decision and is now regretting everything.”
Tilly dragged both hands through their hair. “I didn’t make a decision. It just… happened.”
“Oh god,” Harper whispered dramatically. “You kissed her.”
“We didn’t kiss,” Tilly hissed. “Nobody kissed anybody.”
“But you almost did,” Harper said, eyes lighting up like Christmas morning. “Right?”
Tilly didn’t answer.
Harper gasped. “Oh, my god. You almost kissed Savannah.”
