Shea had always thought she was good at compartmentalizing, sorting her life into neat little boxes. Work in one, friendships in another, late-night thoughts in another still, but after last night, after that kiss… every box she'd carefully built felt like it had been shaken apart.
The office buzzed around her in its usual way: the printers spitting, phones ringing, Meryem leaning on her desk, asking for staplers she never returned. It should have felt like any other morning. Except Shea couldn't stop replaying the way Joe's lips brushed hers like he had been holding himself back for months, like he'd chosen patience over hunger and still managed to unravel her completely.
