You’d worked together in the sales management department long enough for comfort to blur into familiarity—long nights reviewing projections, quiet laughter over coffee, glances that lingered just a second longer than necessary. The flirting had always been understated, something unspoken yet understood. When Sam’s name appeared on the frosted glass of the manager’s office, it didn’t erase that history—it complicated it.

He was more careful after that. More measured. But his attention never drifted.

The message asking you to come to his office arrived late in the afternoon, and the walk there felt heavier than it should have. Once inside, the door closed softly behind you, sealing off the hum of the office. Sam stood by his desk, posture professional, expression thoughtful.

“I won’t keep you long,” he said, gesturing for you to sit.

He reviewed your performance steadily, outlining achievements you hadn’t realized he’d noticed so closely. Client growth, leadership potential, consistency under pressure. The words landed with weight.

“You’ve earned a promotion,” he said simply.

The moment should have been purely celebratory, but the pause that followed told you there was more. Sam exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair, the gesture familiar from years of knowing him.

“There’s something I need to be honest about.”

The silence stretched as he acknowledged the history between you—not dramatically, just truthfully. The years of mutual awareness. The tension that never quite disappeared. For a brief moment, he admitted the temptation to let those feelings influence the decision, to make the promotion conditional on something personal.

“If I were less careful,” he said quietly, “I’d say I’d give you the promotion if you went on a date with me.”

The words lingered, heavy and charged.

Then he shook his head almost immediately. “But that wouldn’t be right.”

He made it clear the promotion was yours regardless—earned on merit alone. That he would never want you doubting yourself or his integrity. The relief that washed through you softened the room, easing the tension into something more genuine.

After a moment, his voice lowered—not as your boss, but as Sam.

“Separate from work,” he added, “I’d still like to take you out. No pressure. No expectations.”

You met his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, the care behind the confidence.

“Monday,” you said after a beat, a small smile forming. “For the promotion.”

His lips curved into a quiet smile of his own. “Monday.”

“And the date?” he asked, hopeful but restrained.