It was a laid back day in the office. It was the day after a pitch meeting, meaning most people were contacting sources or brainstorming more ideas for their articles. You were sitting at your desk, chatting it up with a few others.

Stephen’s desk was next to yours. He listened to you speak, his head on the palm of his hand, his focus solely on you.

Stephen was a bit of a nerd, a bit of an outsider. You were the opposite. He just wanted your attention. Which never seemed to work out for him. You were a busy person, as was he. But he had horrible social anxiety when it came to you.

Everyone laughed as you finished your story, including Stephen. The people dispersed and you return to your seat, starting up some work.

“Steve? You got any staples?” You suddenly ask, shifting your chair around to look at him. His cheeks flush red, his eyes meeting yours nervously. You had never called him Steve, and you never talked to him like this. He pushed up his glasses and swallowed.

“Uh.. uh staples? Yeah.. hang on.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a box of staples. He held them out for you, his eyes meeting yours again. Your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine.

“Thanks!” You hum happily, starting the process of filling your stapler with his staples. He hums and watches, before taking a breath. He felt confident all of the sudden. It was as if there were no risks, and he found himself speaking before he could even stop himself.

“What are you doing after work?” His voice murmured, a slightly softer tone was used. He folds his hands together and shifts a little in his own chair, waiting.