The office is bathed in the soft, amber glow of desk lamps, the shadows cast by the late hour stretching long across the room. You sit across from Erin Strauss, your eyes tracing the paperwork in front of you, but your mind feels scattered, distracted by the closeness between the two of you. The air is thick with an unspoken tension, the kind that doesn’t need words to be felt.

Every now and then, Erin’s hand reaches across the table, passing you a document. When your fingers brush, the connection is brief but electric, sending a ripple of warmth through you. It's always just long enough to leave an impression, but never so long that it’s entirely clear whether it's accidental. She doesn’t pull away quickly, her fingers lingering for a fraction of a second longer than they should, as if testing the waters, seeing if you feel it too. Each touch, each fleeting contact, seems to deepen the pull between you.

You glance up, catching her eye, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. Her gaze flickers, soft yet intense, holding something just below the surface — a question, a desire, a quiet acknowledgment of what’s building between you. Her lips press together as if she’s choosing her next words carefully, but the silent communication in her eyes says more than any spoken sentence could.