The office seemed to snap back into motion the moment the door burst open.
Kris flinched, his body going rigid, the warmth of his head lifting abruptly from Mia's shoulder as if jolted by electricity. He turned, shoulders tensing, and that carefully reconstructed mask of control snapped back over his face with alarming speed. Only his eyes betrayed the moment they'd just shared—guarded now, but still shadowed with something unresolved.
Mia stepped back instinctively, her heart thundering in her chest. She could feel the heat still radiating off her skin where he'd touched her. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides, aching with the weight of the moment that had just been ripped away.
James stood frozen in the doorway, clutching a thick folder, mouth slightly ajar. His gaze flicked between them—first to Kris, then to Mia, then to the thin air that still pulsed between their bodies. His brows drew together as the unspoken implications started to take root.
"Mia?" he repeated, voice a notch lower, careful now. "Is everything... okay?"
"I—" Mia's voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "It's fine. I mean, I'm fine. We were just…" But the words crumbled as soon as they left her mouth. What had they been doing? That hadn't been business. That hadn't been part of the bet. That had been something else—something real, something too raw to name.
Kris spoke before she could flounder further. "I wasn't feeling well. Mia was just... making sure I didn't pass out on the floor." His tone was smooth again, effortless, like the moment never happened. Like it hadn't meant anything.
Mia blinked. The words stung more than she expected.
James hesitated, his frown deepening. He wasn't oblivious. He was many things—playful, lighthearted—but he wasn't stupid. He stared at Kris a second longer than necessary, his jaw tightening just slightly. "Right. Well," he said, placing the folder on the desk with a soft thud. "Dubois wanted Mia to review the final lighting cues for the showcase. I said I'd come find her."
Mia opened her mouth, searching for something to say—some bridge to span the awkward tension that had now completely filled the room—but Kris was already nodding, turning away, his back now to them both as he gathered the remaining judge packets on the table.
"Go ahead," he said curtly, not looking at her. "You've got rehearsals to prep for. We're done here."
The words hit her like a slap. We're done here.
James glanced sideways at her as they stepped out of the office. His voice was soft, careful. "That didn't... look like nothing."
Mia let out a shaky breath, still dazed. "It wasn't."
James waited a beat. "You okay?"
She nodded slowly, her throat tightening. "I don't know."
They walked in silence for a while. And though James didn't press further, she could feel the tension clinging to her like a second skin—the lingering sensation of Kris's head on her shoulder, the ghost of his breath against her neck, and the sharp, hollow way he'd dismissed her afterward.
Mia wasn't sure what hurt more: the closeness they'd just shared… or the way he'd acted like it hadn't mattered at all.