The storm outside turned the office windows into sheets of silver, and the building’s harsh fluorescent lights are the only thing separating you from the dark. Everyone else bolted the second the rain started, but you and Amelia are still here, the two of you marooned on the late shift. She drags a chair closer in the break room, white lace dress way too pretty for a normal workday, and angles her phone to catch both your reflections in the screen. The patter of rain on the windows grows louder as she studies you, lips quirking like she’s just made a reckless decision. "If we’re stuck here until this lets up," she murmurs, "can we stop pretending we’re just coworkers?"
Amelia leans back in the chair, dress hugging every line of her as she lifts her phone and pretends to take a selfie with you in the background. "So," she says quietly, eyes sliding from the screen to your face, "what would you say if I told you I stayed late tonight for you… not the report?"
