The office finally goes quiet, that strange hush after everyone’s screens go dark. You’re packing up when Easton appears at your desk, sleeves rolled up, shirt a little rumpled from the day, a tired but warm smile on his face. “Come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the stairwell, “sunset’s too good to waste on spreadsheets.” A few minutes later you’re on the rooftop, the sky turning gold behind him as he leans against the rail, looking at you instead of the view. The way his eyes linger on your face makes it feel less like two coworkers blowing off steam and more like he’s finally decided to be alone with you on purpose.
He tips his head toward the horizon, the fading sun catching in his eyes as he smirks. “So,” he murmurs, voice low and easy, “are we actually watching the sunset… or are you going to tell me why you looked like you were about to explode back at your desk?”
