Maya wasn’t sure what she expected the day of the test booth to look like, but it definitely wasn’t this. She stood outside Sterling & Co.’s building holding a cold brew and trying not to look like someone who had lost sleep over a man asking for her opinion.

Evan had texted her earlier:

**I’ll meet you in the lobby.

No rush.

It’s just a test.**

She had read that message three times and then told herself to stop being dramatic.

When she walked into the lobby, Evan was already there. He wasn’t wearing a blazer or anything office-formal. Just jeans and a dark T-shirt. He looked like someone who had tried to seem casual and failed because he naturally looked put together.

“You’re early,” he said.

“You said ‘no rush,’ so I rushed.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Too late.”

He smiled slightly and gestured toward the elevator.

The ride up felt different from last time—less quiet, less tense. Or maybe she was just used to him by now. He pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“What’s on this floor?” she asked.

“The mock booth.”

“Is it going to explode?”

“Probably not.”

“Probably?”

“I’m giving myself room for surprises.”

She shook her head, but she didn’t feel nervous. Not the usual kind, anyway.

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped into a wide open space. Part of it looked like a construction zone—half-built walls, boxes stacked against the far side, tools on a cart. But the center of the room held the booth.

It wasn’t finished, but it had shape: a curved backdrop, a counter-sized table, shelves for products, lights that weren’t turned on yet.

It looked like something meant for a mall, a market, or a street event—small but intentional.

Maya stared. “This is real.”

“That’s the idea,” Evan said.

“It’s smaller than I imagined.”

“Most things are before they get crowded.”

She walked closer. A few brand posters leaned against the wall, one of them upside down. She pointed at it.

“That one looks drunk.”

“I know,” Evan said. “It fell earlier.”

She circled the table, brushing her fingers against the edge. “It looks like a dentist office.”

“Again?”

“You really like clean lines.”

He exhaled. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

“That’s why it looks like a place where someone asks you if you floss.”

He stood there for a second, then admitted, “I can’t even argue with that.”

She stepped back, took in the whole space. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

“Tell me what feels wrong.”

“That is extremely vague.”

“It is.”

She looked around again. The booth wasn’t bad. It just didn’t feel like anything. It didn’t have a reason to pull people in.

“It’s too polite,” she said.

Evan blinked. “Polite.”

“Yeah. It’s like it’s saying, ‘Hello, sorry to bother you, maybe look at this product if you feel like it.’ Nobody stops for polite.”

He nodded slowly. “Go on.”

“It needs something that makes people pause. Something that doesn’t look like hotel lighting.”

“I hate hotel lighting.”

“I can tell.”

She pointed at the overhead fixtures. “Turn them on?”

He walked over to a switch on the wall and flipped it.

The lights buzzed on.

She squinted. “See? Dentist office.”

He winced. “This is going great.”

“I’m helping. This is help.”

“I know.”

She stepped forward, studying the table surface. It was glossy white, smooth, with no texture at all. “This table looks like nothing ever happened on it.”

“That’s… accurate.”

“People like things that look touched. Not messy, but lived-in.”

“Lived-in,” he repeated.

“Yeah. This looks like nobody has ever leaned on it.”

He leaned on it instinctively, then caught himself. “Better?”

“No.”

He straightened. “Okay, fair.”

She walked around the booth again, slow this time, noticing little things. The angles. The spacing. The way the products were displayed.

“There’s nowhere to stand,” she said.

“There’s floor.”

“You know what I mean. If people want to try stuff, where do they go? They’ll feel like they’re blocking the whole thing.”

“So we need a space they can step into.”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “We can shift the table back.”

“Do it.”

“Right now?”

“Unless you need permission from someone else.”

He paused. “No.”

He grabbed one end of the table, and she grabbed the other. It was heavier than it looked, but they moved it a foot back. She stepped away and looked again.

“Better,” she said.

“You’re sure?”

“No, but it looks less like a medical booth.”

“That’s a win.”

She pointed to the backdrop. “What’s going there?”

“A large poster. Still in revision.”

“Let me guess. Perfect-skin people.”

“…Yes.”

She groaned. “Kill it.”

“I might.”

“Good.”

She glanced at him. “This is weird.”

“Which part?”

“Me being here. Doing this.”

“You don’t have to be here.”

“I know.”

“But you still came.”

“Don’t analyze it.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He didn’t deny it.

Maya turned back to the booth. “It still needs something.”

“Something real,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He waited.

“I don’t know what it is yet,” she said. “I’ll know when I see it.”

“Then let’s keep looking.”

They kept adjusting small things. Moving a shelf. Shifting a sign. Testing different lights. Every time they changed something, Maya stepped back, squinted, and made a face that was either deep thought or mild judgment.

Evan never seemed bothered.

“You’re taking this very seriously,” he said.

“You told me to help.”

“I didn’t expect… this level.”

“This level is called ‘having eyes.’”

He laughed under his breath. “Noted.”

She stepped around the booth again, still studying. “It needs color.”

“What kind?”

“Not neon.”

“I assumed that.”

She scanned the space, then pointed at the blank backdrop. “Maybe something warm. Not bright. Just… not white.”

“Not white,” he repeated.

“Yes.”

“I can get someone to test samples.”

“You should.”

“I will.”

She looked at him. “You’re writing all this down in your head, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“That means yes.”

He didn’t deny it.

They adjusted a few more things. Time slipped by without either of them noticing. At some point, Evan brought two bottles of water from a cooler at the back of the room.

Maya took hers. “Thanks.”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You get quiet when you’re thinking.”

“I’m always thinking.”

“Not like this.”

She looked at him. “How would you know?”

“Because yesterday you thought differently.”

She didn’t know what that meant. Or maybe she did and didn’t want to admit it.

She drank her water instead.

Evan walked toward the back wall and pulled out a box. “There’s something else.”

“Oh my god,” she said. “How many things do you have?”

“Too many.” He set the box on the table. “But this one is about the booth.”

She opened the box. Inside were random objects—fabric swatches, fake plants, small props, display stands.

“What is all this?” she asked.

“Options.”

“For what?”

“For whatever you think the booth needs.”

She looked at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re trusting me with… decorations?”

“That’s one name for it.”

“This is a terrible idea.”

“Probably.”

She reached into the box and pulled out a small fake plant.

“No,” she said immediately.

“Agreed.”

She put it back and grabbed a piece of fabric. Beige. Too beige. “Also no.”

“Okay.”

She dug deeper and found a small wooden tray. It looked simple, slightly uneven, handmade.

“This,” she said.

He stepped closer. “Why?”

“It looks real.”

“That again?”

“Yes. This one isn’t perfect. People like that.”

He nodded. “We can try it.”

They placed the tray on the edge of the table. It changed almost nothing, and yet Maya noticed it changed… something.

She took a step back. “Better.”

“You’re sure?”

“No, but it feels better.”

“That counts.”

They stood there, side by side, looking at the small tray like it was the most important object in the room.

Then Maya realized their arms were almost touching.

She stepped back half an inch.

Evan noticed but didn’t react.

After a moment, he said, “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You look like you’re thinking again.”

“I always look like that.”

“Not always.”

She exhaled. “This is a lot.”

“The booth?”

“No. You.”

He paused. “In a bad way?”

“In a confusing way.”

He nodded once, like he understood perfectly. “Okay.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “You let me in here. Into your work. Into something you actually care about. I don’t get it.”

“I thought I explained.”

“You explained the ads. The noise. But not… why me.”

He looked at her for a long, quiet moment.

Then he said, “Because you don’t want anything from me.”

“That can’t be the whole reason.”

“It’s part of it.”

“What’s the other part?”

“You make things make sense.”

She stared at him. “I don’t do that.”

“You do. Maybe not for yourself, but you do it for me.”

She looked away, suddenly feeling warm. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe.”

“Stop agreeing with me.”

He didn’t answer that.

They stood there for another beat until Maya spoke first.

“So what now?”

“Now we finish the layout.”

“That sounds boring.”

“It is.”

“And you want me to help.”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

They moved a few more pieces—adjusted shelves, rearranged sample products, turned the backdrop slightly until the angle felt right. Maya didn’t know what she was doing half the time, but Evan kept asking what she thought, and she kept answering.

Eventually, they stepped back at the same time.

“That looks better,” she said.

“It does.”

“Not perfect.”

“Good.”

She looked at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

They stood there again, staring at the booth like two people who had built a large cardboard science project.

“What time is it?” she asked.

Evan checked his phone. “Almost seven.”

Her eyes widened. “We were here that long?”

“Time moves weird with you,” he said before he could stop himself.

She blinked. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It’s the only reason I have.”

He smiled, very slightly. “Okay.”

She grabbed her cold brew bottle from the table. “I should go soon. I have a shift.”

“I can drive you.”

“No.”

“Halfway?”

She sighed. “Halfway.”

He picked up his keys. They rode the elevator down in a comfortable quiet. Not heavy, not awkward. Just… there.

When they reached the lobby, Evan looked at her like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. Instead, he opened the building door for her.

Outside, the air was cooler than earlier. They walked side by side toward the street.

When they reached the corner where she usually turned left, she slowed.

“This is halfway,” she said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then Maya said, “Today didn’t ruin anything.”

He looked at her. “Good.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You will.”

“Probably.”

She almost smiled. Almost.

“See you,” she said.

“See you.”

She turned and walked toward the bar. She didn’t look back.

But she didn’t need to.

She could feel him standing there for a few extra seconds before he finally walked away.