Alle Kapitel von All Yours: Short Romantic Stories: Kapitel 111 – Kapitel 115

The office cleared out early because of the holiday weekend. Most people had bolted by three, but I still had that stupid Q3 report to finish. By seven-thirty the whole floor was dead quiet except for the hum of the vending machine down the hall and the rain tapping against the windows. I was the last one left in our department. Or so I thought. I heard heels clicking on the tile before I saw her. Lena. She worked in marketing, two cubicles over from mine. Dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a mouth that always looked like it was holding back a secret. We’d flirted for months—harmless stuff at first. Compliments on each other’s coffee orders, inside jokes during boring meetings, the occasional lingering look when no one was paying attention. Nothing ever crossed the line. Until tonight. She stopped at my desk, leaning against the edge with her arms crossed. Her white blouse was unbuttoned one more than office policy allowed, and the way the rain made the city lights blur behind

I needed milk. That’s what I told myself at 11:47 p.m. when I pulled on sweats and drove to the 24-hour grocery store two blocks from my apartment. Really, I just couldn’t sleep again. Another night staring at the ceiling thinking about the text my ex sent earlier—“hope you’re doing okay”—like he hadn’t fucked his coworker three months ago. Milk felt like a good enough excuse to get out of my head. The store was dead quiet. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, only a couple other people wandering the aisles. I grabbed a cart and headed for the dairy section, hair in a messy bun, no makeup, just existing. He was in the same aisle, reaching for eggs. Tall, maybe six-two, wearing a faded black hoodie and jeans that fit right. Dark tattoos peeked out from his sleeve when he moved. He glanced over when I stopped next to him for the milk. “Late night essentials?” His voice was casual, a little amused. “Yeah. Can’t sleep, apparently milk fixes that.” I grabbed a carton and tossed i

My flight was delayed. Again. Three hours and counting at O’Hare, and the storm outside wasn’t letting up anytime soon. I’d already walked the entire terminal twice, eaten some dry sushi that cost way too much, and now I was stuck at the airport bar nursing a gin and tonic. My phone was almost dead, and I was bored out of my mind. The guy two seats down had been sitting there just as long. He looked like he traveled a lot—button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, laptop open in front of him, but he wasn’t really working. Dark hair, sharp jawline, early thirties maybe. When I glanced over for the third time, he caught me. “Yours delayed too?” he asked, closing the laptop. “Yeah. Supposed to board an hour ago. Yours?” “Denver. This storm is screwing everybody.” He slid over to the seat right next to me. “I’m Caleb.” “Ava. Austin.” We started talking to kill time. He was a consultant, flew three or four times a month for work. I told him I was a graphic designer coming