The sun had already dipped behind the Mojave horizon, bleeding gold into purple through the slanted windows of the research compound. The desert cooled fast after dark, but the metal catwalks still pulsed with the heat of the day. Her boots clanged softly as she crossed them, arms wrapped around herself, not for warmth, but habit. He followed without asking questions, like always.

She didn’t look back, but she felt his presence—a few paces behind, like a tether. Not close enough to crowd, never far enough to forget. Her parents trusted him, even if he was barely older than her, a stretch of calm muscle and sharp eyes in a world of classified chaos. They assigned him to protect her, but no one warned her about the way silence between two people can stretch long enough to feel like a conversation.

Tonight, the silence felt heavier.

The stars blinked awake above them, indifferent and infinite. She stopped at the edge of the platform where the railings rusted faintly, and he came to stand beside her, a careful distance kept. His shoulder was warm even from inches away.

“They launched it today,” she said quietly. “The probe. My mom said it’s the closest we’ve come to seeing Europa’s under-ice ocean.”

He nodded. “That’s big.”

She turned to him then, really looked—he was all clean lines and clipped edges, the kind of composed that made her want to peel it back, just to see what cracked underneath. His jaw flexed. She wondered if he ever smiled when she wasn’t looking.

“Why’d you take this job?” she asked.

He hesitated. Then, “Because no one else took it seriously. You’re not just a VIP name on a manifest. You’re... kind of a storm.”

Her throat tightened. She laughed, soft and quick, eyes darting away. “That supposed to be flattering?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked out at the dark again, his hand brushing the railing where hers already rested. Not touching—almost. Close enough to feel. The cicadas hummed. Her heartbeat did too. A shift in air. A not-quite moment hanging between them, charged like desert lightning that never hits ground.