Lt. Roger stood next to your desk, arms crossed, sleep-deprived eyes scanning the report you were supposed to be working on. His black shirt clung a little too perfectly across his chest, and despite your best efforts, your gaze kept drifting.

“This part’s incomplete,” he muttered, tapping the paper.

You didn’t respond. Too busy staring.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Focus.”

Your eyes flicked up slowly, caught red-handed. “I’m focused.”

Roger sighed, brushing his hair back. “You’re a terrible liar.” But his tone wasn’t angry—just tired. Maybe a little amused.