(Ethan's POV)
The almost-kiss had been a mistake. A moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment. I needed to regain control, to reassert the boundaries I'd carefully constructed. Claire was a distraction, a temptation I couldn't afford.
So, I did what I do best: I retreated. I distanced myself, burying myself in work, avoiding any unnecessary contact with her. I delegated tasks, scheduled meetings, anything to keep her at arm's length.
But it was no use. Her presence lingered in the office, a ghost of her laughter, a phantom scent of her perfume. Every empty chair, every unused blueprint, was a reminder of her.
And every time I saw her, her eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and hurt, I felt a pang of guilt. I was being a coward, hiding behind my work, refusing to face the feelings I couldn't deny.
"You're avoiding me," she said, her voice tight, cornering me in the hallway.
"I'm busy," I retorted, my voice clipped. "I have a company to run."
"Busy is an excuse," she said, her eyes flashing. "You're avoiding me because you're afraid."
"Afraid of what?" I asked, my voice challenging.
"Afraid of admitting that you still feel something for me," she said, her voice low. "Afraid of facing the truth."
"There is no truth," I said, my voice firm. "We're working together. That's all."
"That's a lie," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "And you know it."
The air crackled between us, charged with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. I wanted to deny it, to push her away, but I couldn't. Her eyes held mine, challenging me, daring me to admit the truth.
"Fine," I said, my voice rough. "Maybe I am afraid. Afraid of getting hurt again. Afraid of opening myself up to the possibility of...anything."
"And what about me?" she asked, her voice soft. "Don't you think I'm afraid too?"
"I don't know," I said, my voice low. "Are you?"
She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching mine. And then, slowly, she nodded.
"Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "I'm terrified."
"Then we're even," I said, a hint of a smile playing on my lips.
"Even?" she scoffed. "We're not playing a game, Ethan."
"Aren't we?" I asked, my voice challenging. "Because it feels like one."
"It's not a game," she said, her voice firm. "It's our lives."
"Then let's stop playing," I said, my voice low. "Let's be honest with each other."
"Honest about what?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.
"Honest about how we feel," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
She looked away, her gaze drifting down the hallway. "I don't know if I can do that," she said, her voice hesitant.
"You have to," I said, my voice firm. "If we're going to move forward, we have to face the truth."
"And what if the truth hurts?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Then we'll deal with it," I said, my voice low. "Together."
(Claire's POV)
Ethan's avoidance was infuriating. He was trying to push me away, to pretend that the almost-kiss hadn't happened, that we were just colleagues working on a project. But I wasn't going to let him.
I confronted him in the hallway, my eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and hurt. I was tired of his games, tired of his walls.
"You're avoiding me," I said, my voice tight.
"I'm busy," he retorted, his voice clipped.
"Busy is an excuse," I said, my eyes flashing. "You're avoiding me because you're afraid."
"Afraid of what?" he asked, his voice challenging.
"Afraid of admitting that you still feel something for me," I said, my voice low. "Afraid of facing the truth."
"There is no truth," he said, his voice firm. "We're working together. That's all."
"That's a lie," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "And you know it."
He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. He wanted to deny it, to push me away, but he couldn't.
"Fine," he said, his voice rough. "Maybe I am afraid. Afraid of getting hurt again. Afraid of opening myself up to the possibility of...anything."
"And what about me?" I asked, my voice soft. "Don't you think I'm afraid too?"
"I don't know," he said, his voice low. "Are you?"
I hesitated, my eyes searching his. I wanted to lie, to deny my fear, but I couldn't.
"Yes," I said, my voice barely audible. "I'm terrified."
"Then we're even," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"Even?" I scoffed. "We're not playing a game, Ethan."
"Aren't we?" he asked, his voice challenging. "Because it feels like one."
"It's not a game," I said, my voice firm. "It's our lives."
"Then let's stop playing," he said, his voice low. "Let's be honest with each other."
"Honest about what?" I asked, my eyes searching his.
"Honest about how we feel," he said, his voice barely a whisper.
I looked away, my gaze drifting down the hallway. I didn't know if I could do that. I was afraid of the truth, afraid of what it would mean.
"I don't know if I can do that," I said, my voice hesitant.
"You have to," he said, his voice firm. "If we're going to move forward, we have to face the truth."
"And what if the truth hurts?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"Then we'll deal with it," he said, his voice low. "Together."
His words were like a promise, a challenge, a temptation. And as I looked into his eyes, I knew I couldn't run anymore. I had to face the truth, whatever it might be.