You were stuffing the last of your folders into your bag when you heard the soft knock on your desk. Your boss leaned against the side of it, sleeves rolled up, tie loose, watching you like he’d been standing there longer than he should’ve.

“Leaving already?” he asked, voice low, warm in a way it never was during meetings.

You blinked up at him. “It’s eleven.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… I guess it is.”

He stepped a little closer, pretending to look at the papers scattered around, but his eyes kept drifting back to you—your face, your mouth, the way your fingers moved. He wasn’t subtle. He never had been with you.