Zach’s POVThe apartment smelled like stale coffee and the faint citrus of Ryder’s body wash. Late evening light filtered through the half-drawn blinds as we hunched over our laptops on the coffee table, the final project push demanding every ounce of focus. For the first time in days, the rhythm between us felt almost easy again, and familiar.Comfortable, even.We traded sections seamlessly, his strategic instincts sharpening my detailed slides, my precision cleaning up his broader strokes. No deep talks, or lingering stares. Just work.“You’re right about the transition here,” Ryder said, leaning closer to point at my screen. Our shoulders brushed but I didn’t flinch. “Makes the recommendation flow better.”“Yeah,” I muttered, adjusting the bullet point. “Looks solid.”It was dangerous, how natural it felt. The kiss and confession still hovered like smoke in the room, but we danced around it, letting the deadline be our excuse.I was grateful for the distraction. Gigi’s advice echo
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