Page 30 of Holly Jolly Heat
She looked away. "I'm not scared of you."
"You're scared of what we represent. Loss of control. Emotional vulnerability. Depending on someone."
"Are you analyzing me?"
"I'm observing you. It's what I do." I moved closer, slowly, giving her space to retreat. "I see you, Michelle. Really see you. I have been for six months, through emails and work calls. And now in person, I see you even more clearly."
"What do you see?" The question came out almost defensive.
"I see someone brilliant and driven who's terrified of needing anyone. Someone who built walls so high she forgot what it felt like to let people in. Someone who's been running for so long she doesn't remember what it's like to stand still."
Michelle's scent spiked, not with fear, but with something more complicated.
"That's not—" She stopped. "Okay, that's accurate. But it's not a problem."
"I didn't say it was a problem. I said that I see you." I held her gaze. "And I've been half in love with you since the third email you sent me, where you made a terrible pun about lighting rigs and I laughed for five minutes straight."
Her eyes went wide. "That was six months ago."
"I know."
"You've been... all this time?"
"I didn't realize it until Pike Place Market. But looking back? Yeah. All this time." I smiled slightly. "You called our crew 'pack' in your emails. Multiple times. Like you knew, subconsciously, what we were building."
"I meant team pack. Like, team."
"I know what you meant. But words matter. You were calling us pack months before we ever met."
Michelle looked shaken. "I need more coffee. There's a shop near here. The good kind, with the local roaster."
"Leading me away from emotional conversations with caffeine?"
"It's a solid strategy."
I followed her across the square to a small coffee shop with warm lighting and the smell of fresh-roasted beans. The owner greeted Michelle by name, asked about her mom, commented on her being in town.
This was her world. Everyone knew her here, had watched her grow up, still saw her as part of the community even though she'd built her life in Seattle.
We ordered, Michelle got a peppermint mocha without asking, proving the barista knew her order by heart, and settled into a corner booth.
"This place is perfect for filming," I said, eyeing the lighting and the cozy atmosphere.
"You're always working."
"Says the woman who's probably mentally drafting emails right now."
Michelle's lips quirked. "Busted. I'm three emails deep in my head."
"See? We're both hopeless workaholics. We match."
"That's not romantic."
"Isn't it? I think it's perfect. We understand each other. We don't expect the other person to change their fundamental nature."
She was quiet, stirring her coffee.
"Tell me about the emails," she finally said. "What made you think we were... whatever we were building?"
