Jamie woke up the next morning still annoyed.
Annoyed at Taylor for interfering. Annoyed at themselves for caring. And—most infuriating of all—annoyed at the part of their brain that replayed Taylor's words on loop: "Maybe I don't like sharing."
It was just a joke, right? Just classic Taylor banter. Except… it hadn't sounded like a joke.
Jamie groaned into their pillow. Overthinking before breakfast. A new low.
They made a plan. A simple one: distance. One day without Taylor. Just twenty-four hours of breathing room.
Easy.
---
By noon, Jamie was sitting in a café with their laptop, congratulating themselves on executing the plan flawlessly. Taylor didn't know where they were. They hadn't texted. They were free.
Until a voice drawled, "Is this seat taken?"
Jamie nearly spilled their coffee. Taylor stood there, grinning like a cat who'd cornered a mouse.
"What are you doing here?" Jamie hissed.
"Craving caffeine." Taylor plopped into the chair across from them without waiting for permission. "Also, you didn't answer my good-morning meme, so I figured you were dead. I had to check."
Jamie scowled. "I was busy."
"Busy ignoring me? Rude."
Jamie closed their laptop with a snap. "I needed space."
Taylor blinked, then leaned back, mock-wounded. "Space? From me? Impossible. I'm delighted."
Jamie rubbed their temples. "You sabotaged me last night."
Taylor tilted their head. "Sabotaged? I saved you. Alex was clearly making a move."
"That was the point!"
For once, Taylor didn't fire back immediately. They just studied Jamie, their expression unreadable. "You wanted Alex to make a move?"
Jamie opened their mouth, then shut it again. Heat rose in their cheeks. "That's none of your business."
Taylor's grin returned, sharper this time. "So… yes."
Jamie groaned. "I hate you."
"No, you don't." Taylor reached across the table and stole a fry from Jamie's plate. "You love me. Deep down."
Jamie swatted their hand away, heart hammering far harder than the situation deserved. "You're insufferable."
---
The afternoon blurred. Somehow, Jamie didn't leave. Somehow, Taylor convinced them to split a pastry, and then another coffee, and then a ridiculous debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (Jamie: no, Taylor: aggressively yes).
It was infuriating how natural it felt, how easy.
Still, Jamie reminded them—space. Distance. They weren't going to let Taylor derail their entire weekend.
Which was why, when Taylor suggested stopping by the park to "walk off the sugar," Jamie shook their head firmly.
"Nope. I'm going home."
"Boo." Taylor shoved their hands in their pockets. "Fine. I'll walk you."
Jamie sighed but didn't argue. Some battles weren't worth fighting.
---
The park lay between the café and Jamie's apartment, and of course Taylor insisted on cutting through. It was bustling—kids with kites, couples on benches, joggers weaving through the crowd.
Jamie tried not to notice the couples. Tried not to imagine how they and Taylor must look, walking side by side, bickering quietly about who cheated more during board games.
Then, the worst possible thing happened: they ran into coworkers.
"Jamie! Hey!"
It was Priya from accounting, walking her dog. She gave them a cheery smile—then her eyes flicked to Taylor. "Ohhh. So this is the famous Taylor."
Jamie froze. "Famous?"
Priya smirked. "You talk about them all the time."
"I do not!"
Taylor's grin was blinding. "All the time, huh?"
Jamie wanted the earth to open up and swallow them.
Priya laughed. "You two are adorable. Well, don't let me interrupt date night." She gave a little wave and continued down the path.
Jamie stood rooted to the spot, mortified. "I am never showing my face at work again."
Taylor, of course, was basking. "Date night," they repeated, clearly savoring the phrase. "I like the sound of that."
"It's not a date."
"Sure, sure." Taylor bumped their shoulder lightly against Jamie's. "Whatever you say."
---
By the time they reached Jamie's building, Jamie was a mess of conflicting emotions: embarrassment, frustration, and a traitorous warmth that wouldn't quit.
Taylor lingered at the bottom of the steps, rocking back on their heels. "So. Still mad at me?"
Jamie crossed their arms. "Yes."
Taylor tilted their head, considering. Then, softer: "Even if I was just trying to protect you?"
Jamie blinked. "Protect me? From what, exactly?"
Taylor hesitated. For a second, the cocky grin faltered. Their eyes softened, and it felt like the air between them shifted—heavier, charged.
"From… people who don't get you like I do."
Jamie's breath caught.
It would've been the perfect moment—if Taylor hadn't immediately ruined it.
"Also, Alex has a weird laugh. You dodged a bullet."
Jamie shoved them lightly toward the sidewalk. "Go home, Taylor."
Taylor laughed, retreating a few steps but throwing a wink over their shoulder. "See you tomorrow, spouse."
Jamie stood frozen on the steps, watching them go.
They told themselves they were angry. They told themselves Taylor was infuriating, unbearable, impossible.
But their racing heart suggested something else entirely.