Page 42 of Under Construction

Whatever indeed.

15Professional Distance

Somehow, the construction site looks different in today’s morning light.

Less like Dennis’s dream project and more like evidence of terrible life choices.

Specifically, the kind that leaves finger-shaped bruises on your hips and stubble burn on your thighs.

"Problem, Mr. Kim?"

Dennis doesn't jump. He's a professional.

Professionals don't jump just because certain site managers have ninja-level sneaking abilities and voices that make his stomach drop into his shoes.

"Your face is doing that thing again," Chris says, somehow already behind him.

Near enough that Dennis can sense him in a palpable way that he can’t write off as his imagination.

"What thing?" Dennis keeps his eyes on his tablet.

These progress reports won't file themselves, and he absolutely cannot look at Chris right now.

Not when he knows exactly how those hands feel on his skin. How that voice sounds when it drops to barely a murmur.

When it’s softer.

Breathier.

Closer.

Dennis’s whole body goes electric, every inch of him aware of Chris’s presence. He's never felt more alive or more desperate to run away.

"That overthinking thing." Chris steps closer.

Close enough that Dennis catches a hint of his cologne—the expensive one that definitely doesn't match his ratty work jeans.

The scent hits his nose and suddenly he's back there—skin on skin, hours stretching into forever, everything too much yet not enough.

Dennis forces his breathing steady, runs through his mental checklist: face neutral, spine straight, hands still. If Chris would just shut up and leave...

"Like you're reliving last night instead of just admitting you miss me."

"Don't." Dennis takes a huge step forward, putting enough space between them for Jesus and all twelve disciples. "We're at work."

"Very astute." Chris's eyes scan the empty office. "But I only see you here, princess." His voice drops. “Noone else.”

"Iamsomeone, Chris." Dennis’s jaw tightens. "And I'd appreciate some professionalism."

"Professionalism?" Chris's fingers trail along the desk as he circles closer, like a tiger cornering its prey.

Dennis forces the word past his dry throat. "Normal…ness."

"Nothing normal about us though, is there, princess?"

Dennis’s grip tightens on his tablet. "Chris..."

"Alright, alright." Chris holds up his hands. Takes a step back. "Professional distance. Got it."

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