You hadn’t expected to see Colin like this—clipboard in hand, sleeves rolled up, sitting across from you in a small, quiet interrogation room. It wasn’t anything serious. You were just a witness, at the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, formality made the air feel heavier than it should.

He cleared his throat as he glanced at his notes, not looking at you right away.

“Alright, just a few standard questions, okay?” he said, though his voice wasn’t as steady as usual.

You nodded, offering a small smile, your nerves easing a little just from seeing a familiar face—especially his. Colin was your friend. A good one. But now, under the hum of the fluorescent lights, something felt different. The way he looked at you. The way his jaw clenched every time you leaned forward. The way his eyes kept flicking down your neckline before he forced them back to your file.

“So, uh…” He paused again, tapping his pen. “You said you were near the bar entrance at 10:43 PM?”

“Yeah. I didn’t see anything, just heard shouting,” you answered, voice calm.

He nodded. “Right. Nothing unusual. Nothing… suspicious?”

He looked at you for a long moment, then dropped the pen and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks were slightly flushed now, lips parted like he had something to say—but couldn’t.

“Jesus” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. “You sitting there looking at me like that… I can’t focus worth shit.”