Monday morning arrived, cruel and cold.
Ayden stepped into the studio earlier than usual, face blank, collar high, eyes guarded. Luca was already there. His back was to the door, but Ayden could see the way his shoulders stiffened at the sound of his footsteps.
"Morning," Luca said, not turning.
Ayden didn't respond.
They worked in silence.
Luca cut fabric with sharp, measured movements. Ayden sketched without looking up once. But the air between them wasn't neutral. It vibrated — like a storm waiting to break open.
"You're ignoring it," Luca finally said, breaking the silence.
"I'm working."
"I kissed you."
Ayden's hand trembled. The pencil snapped.
He looked up, jaw set. "And I let you. That was a mistake."
Luca's eyes narrowed. "You didn't look like it was a mistake when your tongue was in my mouth."
Ayden stood, chair scraping harshly. "This isn't going to happen again."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I just did."
They stared each other down. Neither blinked.
But Camille had already walked in — quietly, silently — and caught enough.
Their eyes flicked from Ayden to Luca. And their mouth curled into the smuggest grin on earth.
"Interesting," they said, casually setting down their bag. "Tension in the workplace. I wonder what HR would say."
Ayden didn't move. Luca looked like he was holding in a groan.
Camille walked up to Ayden, leaned in, and whispered, "Just say when you want the studio cleared for a private session."
"Camille—"
"You're glowing," they said sweetly, skipping away.
Later that afternoon, Ayden and Luca worked side by side again, quietly. Neither mentioned the kiss. Neither mentioned Camille's smirk.
But Ayden dropped a pin and bent to pick it up. As he stood, Luca reached out — brushing a curl behind his ear.
Ayden froze.
Their eyes met.
Luca said nothing. Neither did Ayden.
But the moment... stuck.
And in Ayden's chest, something had started to ache.