Morning creeps into the house softly, pale light slipping through the kitchen windows. I stand on my toes in front of the cabinets, reaching for the jar I'd pushed too far back. My fingers brush the glass.
Missed.
I stretch higher.
"Here."
Devan's voice comes from behind me. He is too close. Definitely too close for my liking. Before I can react, his arm reaches past mine, the sleeve of his crisp shirt grazing my bare arm. The cabinet opens. He hands me the jar. In the exchange, his hand finds my waist.
It isn't intentional and I know that. It doesn't stop my heart from throbbing hard in my chest.
The touch was brief, polite even but my breath hitches in my throat anyway. Devan smells clean, familiar, grounding. Too grounding. My senses blur, warmth curling low in my stomach before I can stop it.
Hormones, I tell myself immediately.
Ovulation. Biology. That's all.
"Thanks." I say quickly, stepping away.
"Anytime." He is already moving back to the counter.
Devan looks freshly put together with his shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled just enough, hair neat. He looks like he hadn't been awake half the night. Like the kitchen hadn't witnessed anything dangerous hours earlier.
I barely slept last night. I had to cover the bags under my eyes with make-up this morning. Devan looks better in contrast to myself.
We move quietly in the kitchen. He pours hot water and steeps his tea. I fix a toast. The hum of the kettle fills the gaps where conversation might have slipped.
Devan leans against the counter, scrolling through his phone, sipping slowly. His posture is calm and controlled in contrast to my unsteady one.
I spare him a few glances from time to time. This was how mornings usually were. Easy. Domestic. Safe.
He drives me to work like he always does when he can.
The car ride is almost normal. He asks if I had remembered my badge. I ask if he has a meeting. Familiar words, familiar routes. We both answer with a preciseness that could be considered professional.
When he pulls up outside my office building, he cuts the engine.
"Have a good one." he says.
"You too."
I pause with my hand on the door handle, then step out before I can overthink it. As I walk toward the building, I feel his eyes on my back. They are not heavy, not lingering. They are just there.
At work, the day wastes no time.
By ten, I am deep into code reviews, caffeine coursing through my veins. Carla leans over the divider.
"You okay? You look… distracted."
And here I thought I had been my usual normal self. I thought I hadn't let the unsteadiness of last night seep through today. But then again, Carla had a sharp eye for these kind of things.
"I am fine." I reply.
"I just didn't sleep well."
Roderick stops by my desk, posture relaxed.
"Are you free after stand-up? I want your input on something."
"Sure." I answer automatically.
My phone buzzes when he walks away .
A calendar reminder: Team Sync – 10:30
Below it, is a message preview from Dad, sent minutes ago.
Miss you sweetheart
My heart melts at the message. I smile down at my phone before I type a reply.
Miss you too dad.
By mid-morning, work has swallowed me whole. Code reviews. Stand-up. The rhythm of keys and caffeine.
After stand-up, Roderick stops by my desk.
"You got a minute?" he asks.
"Sure."
We move to a quiet corner near the windows. He leans against the ledge, casual but focused.
"Can I ask you something slightly personal?" he asks "Feel free to shut me down." he adds immediately.
I hesitate before I nod "Okay."
"Are you seeing anyone?"
Honest to say I am not surprised by Roderick's question. It's all I could hear the last few days from Carla. I mean Roderick had been making extra effort to make sure I was comfortable. I had noticed it too. It made me feel good but scared me too. I didn't want the others to think he favored me because he had a thing for me. It didn't look good for me at all.
I had ignored most advances. Turned out the invites to spend time alone. Even stopped replying to after work messages. He is persistent, I will give it to him.
"No." My answer comes easily
He smiles, relieved, then pauses.
"The guy who picked you up the other night..."
Roderick's question hangs lightly in the air.
"We are not dating," I answer quickly. "Just… friends."
Friends
The word feels safe in my mouth. Safer than housemate. Safer than the truth.
Roderick studies me for a bit, then nods. "Good to know."
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Why?"
"Well," he says, rubbing the back of his neck
"I was thinking maybe you'd like to get dinner sometime. Off the clock. No work talk."
My first instinct is to say no.
My second is Devan's hand at my waist. His presence in the kitchen. The way my body reacted to him when it had no business reacting at all.
"Yes, I would like that." I hear myself say.
Roderick's smile widens.
"Great. How about Friday?"
"Friday works."
As he walks away, my pulse steadies.
This is good, I tell myself. I need a distraction. A reset.
Roderick is kind, smart and available.
Agreeing to one simple date feels like the safest way to finally get Devan out of my head.