Xander found her by the windows in the common lounge — standing stiff, arms folded, her eyes fixed on the city skyline like it held all the answers she was looking for. The golden hour sun spilled across her face, but even that didn't soften the hard expression she wore.
He approached slowly, not wanting to startle her. "Erin," he said calmly. "We need to talk."
She didn't flinch, but she didn't turn to face him either. "About what?"
"You've been acting… different. Distant."
She finally turned to him, arms still folded tightly. "Have I?"
Xander sighed. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about," he said. "You've barely said a full sentence to me since yesterday. You snapped at me during the meeting this morning, and this afternoon, when I asked for the files—"
"They were closer to you than they were to me," she cut in flatly.
He blinked. "Seriously?"
"What? You wanted them, you got them."
Xander stared at her for a second, then ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. That's the fifth time you've taken a shot at me today. You're not even trying to hide it anymore. So I'll ask again—what's going on?"
"Nothing is going on," she said too quickly.
He stepped closer, not too close, but enough that she finally had to look up at him. "Don't lie to me, Erin."
She turned away, swallowing hard. "Maybe you should just worry about your own affairs, Xander."
"That's exactly what I'm doing," he said firmly. "You're my… assistant. I trust you. But this—" He gestured between them. "This tension, this ice-cold shoulder you've been throwing—where is it coming from?"
Her fists clenched at her sides.
"Did I do something?" he pressed, quieter now. "Did I cross a line? Because if I did, tell me. Just—don't shut me out like this."
For a moment, she looked like she might stay silent forever. Her lips parted, then closed again. She bit the inside of her cheek. Her chest rose and fell sharply.
And then it snapped.
"Why wouldn't I get nasty when you're the one hovering around every other woman?" she burst, her voice low and biting. "You say all this stuff about how you can't stay away from me, about how you want me, and then—then a few days into your precious ten-day deal, I walk into your office and find you with another woman."
Xander's brows furrowed. "What—"
Erin wasn't finished. Her hands were shaking now. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but if the ten days were just your way of pushing me away so you could mess around without feeling guilty, then congratulations. It's working."
Silence fell.
A long, weighted silence.
Erin realized what she'd just said. Her eyes widened slightly, panic crawling into her throat. She turned away, as if that would undo the outburst. "Forget it," she muttered. "It's none of my business. I shouldn't care what you do with your personal life."
Xander was still staring at her, but not with anger. Just… confusion. "What woman?" he asked.
She scoffed. "The one I saw in your office yesterday."
Now he laughed. Actually laughed. Not mocking — just startled. And that made it worse.
She turned sharply, her face flushing. "You think this is funny?"
"No," he said, still chuckling under his breath. "No, I just—I wasn't expecting that."
"Glad I could entertain you," she said, brushing past him, furious now.
But he caught her wrist before she could storm out. She stopped, frozen by the contact — the warmth of his fingers, the steadiness of his grip.
"That woman," he said gently, "is my cousin."
Erin blinked. "What?"
He stepped closer, his voice softer now. "Her name is Lyra. She came to drop off some old files. She's a bit clingy but she's… family, Erin."
Her face had never felt so hot. "Oh. But you hugged so tightly and she even kissed you… on the cheek."
"I didn't think I had to explain a hug and a kiss on the cheek," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But I guess I should've clarified."
She groaned and tried to tug her hand free. "Let me go."
"Nope."
"Xander—"
He pulled her gently, and before she could react, he'd wrapped his arms around her and trapped her in a hug.
Her breath caught. Her heart thudded.
"You were jealous," he teased, smirking down at her.
"I wasn't—"
"You were very jealous."
She shoved her face into his chest, mortified. "Oh my god."
"You should've seen yourself just now. All flustered. You looked like an angry little bunny."
"Stop talking."
"I mean it. I almost want to get you riled up again just to see it."
"I swear, if you don't shut up—"
"You'll what?" he murmured, his voice dropping lower. "Run away again?"
She stiffened.
"I don't want you to run," he added quietly. "Not from me."
Slowly, she raised her head from his chest. Her eyes met his, and for the first time in days, something between them settled.
The silence now was soft. Comforting.
She exhaled. "I was stupid."
"Maybe," he said. "But you're cute when you're stupid."
She smacked his arm, and he laughed again. "Fine, fine. I'm sorry. But next time, maybe ask before you spiral into imaginary betrayal."
"I wasn't spiraling."
"You were spiraling."
"Okay, maybe I spiraled a little."
He grinned. "Well, at least now we're being honest."
She sighed, then slowly let her body relax into the hug. His arms tightened around her instinctively, like they belonged there.
"Seven days left," she murmured against him.
He kissed the top of her head. "Seven days left."