Aubrey woke up Thursday pretending everything was fine. She wasn’t fine. But she put on jeans, tied her hair, grabbed the nearest sweater, and acted like a functioning adult anyway. That was the plan—minimal emotional movement, minimal chaos.
Fifteen minutes later, she stopped in the middle of brushing her teeth and told her reflection, “I’m lying to myself.”
That felt accurate.
She grabbed her phone to check the time. Two notifications waited for her.
Caleb: Morning.
Caleb: Don’t forget to eat.
Her chest softened.
Then—
Chase: If you ignore me today I’m jumping off something
Chase: Nothing tall
Chase: But still
Aubrey: Stop being dramatic
Aubrey: I’m going to work
Chase: RUDE
Chase: Also I’m outside
She froze.
Aubrey: Outside where
Chase: Your building
Chase: Obviously
She shut her eyes. “Why do I live like this?”
She grabbed her bag, opened the door, and walked downstairs. Sure enough, Chase stood by her front steps holding two coffees and kicking a rock like a bored golden retriever.
When he saw her, his whole face cleared. “Finally.”
“I didn’t invite you.”
“Never stopped me.”
“Unfortunately,” she muttered.
He handed her a coffee. “Peace offering.”
“Peace would require you not showing up at my house.”
“Baby steps,” he said.
They started walking toward her office. Chase kept glancing at her like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
She sighed. “Just spit it out.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You’ve been trying to say something for like three blocks.”
He frowned at the ground. “I just… wanted to check you’re not still mad.”
“I’m still mad.”
“Oh.” His voice deflated a little. “Right.”
“But,” she added, “I get why you did it.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You do?”
“I don’t like your timing,” she said. “But I get it.”
He didn’t smile yet, but something loosened in his shoulders.
They reached the crosswalk. Chase inhaled like he finally found the courage sitting on the sidewalk or something.
“Aubrey,” he said. “Can I ask you something without you freaking out?”
“That depends on the question.”
He hesitated.
Then said it.
“Did you ever like me?”
Aubrey stopped walking.
The world kept moving—cars, people, noise—but she stood there frozen while her stomach dropped through the pavement.
“What?” she said.
Chase looked straight ahead, not at her. “It’s not a trap. I just… need to know.”
Aubrey’s throat tightened. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because sometimes it feels like you did,” he said quietly. “And sometimes it feels like you never did. And I don’t know which one is worse.”
Her heart clenched.
“Chase…”
“You can say no,” he said quickly. “Really. I won’t explode. I just want the truth.”
She swallowed, unsure which truth hurt less.
“I didn’t… like you like that,” she said slowly. “Not the way you mean.”
Chase nodded once. Too fast. “Okay.”
“But—” she added before she could stop herself, “you’re important to me.”
That made him look at her. Really look at her.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t joke.
He just nodded again, softer this time.
“Okay,” he said. “Thanks.”
She exhaled, shaky. “You’re not upset?”
“I didn’t ask to get the answer I wanted,” he said. “I asked to get the answer.”
That was too mature. She glared at him suspiciously. “Who are you and what have you done with Chase?”
He huffed a laugh. “I can be serious.”
“No, you can be loud.”
“That too.”
They reached her building. He stopped walking.
“I’ll see you later?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “Later.”
But as she walked inside, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted again—quietly, painfully, honestly.
And she wasn’t sure what to do with that.
Work was the opposite of peaceful. Sandra dropped three different deadlines on her desk before noon, each labeled “urgent” in all caps like that somehow made the work happen faster. Aubrey wanted to scream, but she settled for eating pretzels at her desk and whispering insults into her coffee.
At one, she stepped outside for air. The cold hit her harder than expected, but she needed it. Needed quiet, needed space, needed something that didn’t involve feelings or deadlines.
She sat on the steps and covered her face with her hands.
“Aubrey?”
She peeked through her fingers.
Caleb stood in front of her with two sandwiches in a paper bag.
Her voice came out small. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
“You sounded like you needed a break,” he said.
Her chest tightened. Again. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” he said, gentle. “That’s okay.”
She looked away because his kindness was loud and she didn’t know how to mute it.
He sat beside her—not too close, not far. “Are you overwhelmed?”
“Understatement,” she said.
He nodded. “Eat first. Talk after.”
She took the sandwich. Her hands were slightly shaking.
They ate quietly. For a moment, Aubrey felt almost calm—not peaceful, but held together.
When she finished, she wiped her hands on a napkin. “Caleb… can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
She hesitated. “Did what Chase said… make things weird for you?”
Caleb paused.
“No,” he said.
“No?” she echoed.
“No,” he repeated. “It didn’t make things weird. It made things… clearer.”
Her pulse jumped.
“Clearer how?” she asked.
He didn’t look away. “I’ve been trying to figure out how much to say and how much to wait. What Chase said didn’t change anything. It just… confirmed something I already hoped was true.”
Aubrey forgot how to inhale.
“Caleb…”
He leaned slightly closer—not touching, but enough she could feel the warmth reach her.
“You don’t have to rush,” he said. “You don’t have to decide anything today. Or tomorrow. Or anytime soon.”
She swallowed. “But you’re… here.”
“I want to be here,” he said simply.
Her heart made a mess inside her ribs.
She whispered, “This feels like a line I shouldn’t cross.”
“It’s a line you can take your time with.”
“Caleb…”
“Yeah?”
“It scares me.”
“I know,” he said. “But it doesn’t scare me.”
Her eyes felt hot for no reason at all.
She looked down at her hands, then slowly leaned—not fully, not obviously, but just enough that her shoulder brushed his for half a second.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t freeze.
He just let it happen.
And that was somehow worse.
And better.
At the same time.
Caleb exhaled softly. “Whenever you’re ready… I’m right here.”
Aubrey stared at the ground, trying not to fall apart in public.
“Can you…” she whispered.
“Can I what?” he asked.
“Stay a little longer?”
He smiled—quiet, warm, steady. “Of course.”
He stayed.
And Aubrey finally realized she had already crossed the line hours ago—maybe days ago—without noticing.
And maybe… that wasn’t a bad thing.
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