With a sigh, he leaned forward and picked up his tie off of the table in front of him. He’d purposefully left it knotted so he could simply slip it over his head now, a flash of silver contrasting starkly against his black shirt, black trousers, black jacket. There was something off-putting about the way his brilliant blue eyes never left her face as he pulled up his collar, tightened his tie, and smoothed out the creases in his shirt.

Her bare feet, toes painted a dangerous crimson, were still lightly pressed against his trouser leg. She adjusted the hem of her slight summer dress, but to her disappointment he didn’t take the bait. She was conscious of the way her head was tilted slightly to the side, the way her fingers had been reflexively tugging at her bangs, the way she kept biting her lip every time she smiled, shyly. It’s almost laughable how cliche it was.

He had leaned back in his armchair again, looking at her with a mix of indulgence and amusement. She never could hold his gaze for long, and so she picked up her coffee cup from its place on the table between them, willing the last dregs of the creamy liquid out of the bottom of the cup. She pushed her feet back into her sandals and stood up resolutely, extending a hand to signal the end of the meeting.

He met her tiny hand with a strength that took her by surprise. He stood up too then, almost pulling himself up by her hand. His other hand hovered around the small of her back as he showed her to the door, close enough for her to feel its warmth, but never quite touching.

The door closed behind her.