Chapter 8: "Girl Can't Help It"
Lucas’s Morning Reflection
The light outside is soft, barely rising over the city, but inside, it’s still quiet. I sit at the dining table, my hands wrapped around a warm cup of coffee, staring at the designs sprawled out in front of me. The shapes are different now—more fluid, more creative than they’ve been in a while. It’s like my brain has finally let go of something, and the ideas are starting to breathe again.
But no matter how much I try to focus on the lines, the curves, the details, my mind keeps drifting back to last night. Mia.
I didn’t expect it—the way I’d feel drawn to her so quickly. It wasn’t just her smile or the way she seemed genuinely interested in my work. It was more than that. Something about her... it just felt real. And I can’t shake the feeling that maybe, for the first time in a long while, I’m actually ready for something new. But is she?
I sip my coffee, the warmth doing little to ease the knot that’s been twisting in my gut since I woke up. The attraction is undeniable, and it’s not just physical. There’s something deeper about her, something that makes me want to know more. But then, there’s that familiar voice in my head—Jessica. The ghost of everything that fell apart before.
Do I really want to go down this road again?
I glance down at the designs, my hands gripping the edges of the paper. The community center deadline is coming fast. I should be focused on this—on delivering something groundbreaking, something that will prove I’m still at the top of my game. But all I can think about is Mia. That easy conversation, the way her eyes lit up when I talked about the project. She didn’t just listen—she understood.
I lean back in my chair, the coffee cup now cool in my hands. The attraction is pulling me in, but so is the work. It’s like there’s this push-and-pull inside me, my mind battling between what I want and what I need to do. The rational part of me is screaming to focus on the project—finish what I started, prove myself. But the other part... the part that’s been quiet for so long, it’s telling me to take a chance.
I exhale, long and slow, my eyes drifting back to the window. The city’s starting to wake up now, the early light stretching across the skyline. Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Maybe I don’t need to choose one over the other. Or maybe... maybe I’m already too far gone.
Mia’s Morning at Work
The sunlight streams through the windows of my office, casting a warm glow over my desk. It’s late morning, and the energy in the space is buzzing—colleagues walking in and out, phones ringing, emails pinging. Normally, I’d be laser-focused, immersed in the tasks at hand. But today... today, my mind is somewhere else.
Lucas.
I try to push the thoughts away, telling myself I need to focus. There’s a deadline for this article, and I can’t afford to get distracted. But no matter how many times I type a sentence, I find myself staring blankly at the screen, my mind replaying moments from last night.
The way Lucas listened—really listened—when I told him about the letters and calls. He didn’t push or pry, just sat there, offering quiet support. And there was something in his eyes, something that made me feel... seen. Safe, even. But then there’s that part of me, the one that’s still guarded, that keeps whispering, don’t get too close.
I glance at the motivational quotes pinned to my wall, the words meant to inspire me: “Take the leap,” “Trust the journey.” Easy to say, but in practice? I’ve been burned before. Opening up to Lucas felt good, but it also felt dangerous. Like stepping too close to the edge, not knowing if I’d fall or be caught.
I shake my head, trying to focus on the draft in front of me. But it’s no use. My thoughts keep drifting back to him—the way he looked at me across the room, the quiet confidence he carries, the way he seemed to understand me without me having to say much at all. I find myself debating whether I should reach out, send a quick text, something casual... or maybe just leave it alone for now.
Before I can make a decision, my phone buzzes with a new email. It’s an invitation to a networking event tonight—nothing too formal, just a gathering of creatives and professionals. My first instinct is to ignore it, brush it off as another thing to worry about. But then... the idea hits me. I could invite Lucas. It’s not a date, not really. Just... something.
I stare at the email, my fingers hovering over the keys. Should I ask him? Would that be too forward? I barely know him, and yet I feel this pull, this connection that’s hard to explain. But the fear lingers—what if I’m wrong? What if I’m setting myself up for something I’m not ready for?
I exhale, leaning back in my chair. Not today. Maybe it’s too soon to make the first move. Maybe I should wait, let things happen naturally. After all, I’m not even sure what this is yet—if it’s something real or just my mind playing tricks on me because I’ve been lonely for so long.
I close the email and try to refocus on my work, but Lucas’s face keeps slipping back into my thoughts, no matter how hard I try to push it away.
Lucas and Mia’s Unexpected Encounter
I walk into the café without thinking much about it—just a quick stop for lunch before heading back to the office. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries fills the air, and for a second, it’s like a small pocket of peace in the middle of my busy day. The place is packed, the usual lunchtime crowd buzzing with conversation, but somehow, it feels inviting, not overwhelming.
As I scan the room for an open table, I freeze. There, by the window, sitting with her back to the light, is Mia. I almost turn around and walk out—it’s not like we planned to meet, and maybe this is too much too soon. But before I can decide, she looks up and spots me. Her face softens, and she gives me a small smile. And just like that, the decision is made.
“Lucas,” she says, a little surprised, but her smile widens. “What are the odds?”
“Hey, Mia,” I reply, feeling that familiar pull again. I hesitate for half a second before asking, “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not,” she says, her voice easy, though there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. Maybe surprise, maybe curiosity.
I sit down across from her, the table between us feeling like both a barrier and an invitation. The sun streams through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the room, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth building between us.
We start with small talk—work, mostly. She tells me about an article she’s writing, the latest project she’s immersed in. I mention the community center project, the deadlines that seem to creep closer every day. It’s all light and casual, but underneath, I can feel the tension, the unspoken words hovering between us.
She laughs softly at something I say about the unpredictability of creative work, her fingers tracing the edge of her coffee cup. “It sounds like you’ve been busy,” she says, and there’s a hint of something else in her tone—maybe understanding, maybe something more.
“I have been,” I admit, leaning back slightly, my eyes meeting hers. “But last night... I’m glad I took a break. It was nice, talking to you.”
Her smile falters for a second, just the briefest pause, but then she nods. “Yeah, I feel the same way. I wasn’t sure about opening up at first, but... it felt good. It’s been a while since I’ve trusted someone like that.”
I can feel the weight of her words, the honesty in them, and it hits me. I want to know her—more than I’ve let myself want anything in a long time. But even as the thought crosses my mind, there’s that voice inside me, reminding me of everything else. The project. The past. The walls I’ve built to keep myself from getting hurt again.
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
And maybe she feels the same, because her eyes drift away for a moment, like she’s debating whether to say something more or pull back.
I lean forward, my voice quieter now, the conversation between us shifting. “I get it. It’s... hard. Trusting someone new.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine, and for a second, I think I’ve said too much. But then she nods, and there’s a softness in her expression that makes my chest tighten. “Yeah,” she says, almost a whisper. “It is.”
We sit there for a moment, the conversation slowing, the noise of the café fading into the background. The pull between us is unmistakable now, but neither of us moves. It’s like we’re both waiting for something—a sign, a nudge, anything to break the tension.
But it never comes. Instead, we finish our coffee, the conversation shifting back to safer topics, both of us retreating behind our own walls.
As we say our goodbyes, I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I’d just said what I was really thinking. But the push and pull, the hesitation—it’s still there, holding me back. And I get the feeling it’s doing the same to her.
Natalie’s Secret Admirer Sends a More Personal Message
The office is a whirlwind of movement—flowers being arranged, event schedules finalized, and last-minute details thrown at me left and right. My team is buzzing with the usual pre-event energy, but I’m barely keeping track of it. My mind is elsewhere.
Amid the chaos, my phone buzzes. It’s probably another update or a client request, so I almost ignore it. But something makes me glance down, and there it is—another message from the secret admirer. I don’t know why, but every time I see one, my heart skips a beat.
This time, though, it’s different.
I open the message and immediately notice the tone. It’s not just a compliment or a vague hint of admiration like before. This time, it’s specific—personal. The note mentions something only someone close to me would know, an inside joke from a party I’d planned months ago. My fingers hover over the screen, rereading the words, trying to figure out who could know something that intimate.
“Hey, what’s that?” My assistant, Sara, peeks over my shoulder, her curiosity piqued as always.
I hand her the phone, watching her face light up with amusement. “Another message from the mystery admirer?” she grins, reading through it quickly. “This one’s good. Definitely someone close. Who could it be?”
I shrug, but inside, my mind is racing. Who could it be? The messages have been sweet, thoughtful even, but this one... this one feels like someone who really knows me. Someone who’s been paying attention.
Sara hands me back the phone, eyes twinkling. “Come on, Natalie. You’ve got to have some idea. This isn’t just random.”
I laugh, brushing it off, but the truth is, I don’t know. And yet, the mystery of it all... it’s getting under my skin in the best way possible. There’s a thrill in not knowing, in wondering if the next message will reveal a little more. Or maybe even... a name.
“I don’t know,” I admit, though my mind is already running through possibilities. “But I’m starting to think I need to figure it out.”
Sara nods knowingly, her grin widening. “Maybe they’ll reveal themselves at the next event. It would be romantic, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes, but there’s a flicker of hope, a small thrill at the thought of finally solving this puzzle. “We’ll see.”
As I get back to work, the noise of the office fades slightly, and for a moment, all I can think about is the message, the shared memory, the person behind it. The mystery is starting to feel more real, more intentional. And the more I think about it, the more I want to know who’s behind these thoughtful words.
Whoever they are, they know me better than I expected. And that, more than anything, makes my heart race.
Lucas and Mia’s Evening Out
The venue is buzzing, full of stylish professionals sipping cocktails, exchanging business cards, and talking shop. The sleek lines of the modern architecture and the ambient lighting make the whole space feel sophisticated, almost too polished for me. I swirl my drink, pretending to be more interested in the conversation at my table than I really am.
But then, across the room, I see her.
Mia.
I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting her. The casual elegance in the way she holds herself, the way her eyes sweep the room, taking everything in. For a second, I consider walking over. For a second, I hesitate. But when her gaze lands on mine, and her eyes widen slightly in surprise, it feels like the whole room fades away.
She smiles—soft, unsure—and I can’t help but smile back.
“Lucas,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice when I finally make my way over. “What are you doing here?”
I laugh lightly. “Same as you, I guess. Pretending to network.”
She chuckles, and just like that, the tension I didn’t realize I was holding melts. We start talking, falling into an easy rhythm that feels both new and familiar. We wander through the event together, laughing about how neither of us knows half the people here and comparing notes on how awkward these things can get. But underneath the banter, there’s something more. Something deeper.
As the evening goes on, we drift into quieter corners of conversation. She tells me about her goals—about the projects she’s passionate about, the things she wants to achieve. There’s a fire in her, this determination that reminds me of why I was drawn to her in the first place. She’s different. Real.
I tell her about my own ambitions, about the community center project, the pressure I’ve been feeling to make it something that matters. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like I’m just talking about work. It feels like I’m sharing a part of myself I’ve been holding back from everyone else.
“There’s a lot riding on it,” I admit quietly, watching her as she listens, really listens. “But I want it to mean something. I just don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t,” she says softly, her gaze steady. “I can tell.”
The way she says it, so simply, makes me believe her. Maybe more than I believe in myself.
The evening begins to wind down, the crowd thinning out as people say their goodbyes. But neither of us moves. We find ourselves in a quieter part of the venue, the chatter around us fading. It’s just the two of us now, standing close, the weight of everything unspoken pressing in.
I want to say something. I want to tell her how much I’ve been thinking about her since last night. How much I’ve wanted to get to know her beyond these fleeting moments. My hand brushes hers, and she looks up at me, her expression soft, expectant.
I almost make a move. My hand lingers near hers, and for a second, it feels like the world is holding its breath. I’m about to close the space between us, to take that step—
But I don’t.
I pull back, the moment slipping through my fingers. The hesitation hits me hard, the weight of everything—the project, my past, the uncertainty—crashing down all at once. I can see the flicker of confusion in her eyes, the way she steps back slightly, guarded.
“I—” I start, but I don’t even know how to finish.
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay, Lucas. Maybe... maybe we should just call it a night.”
I nod, though it feels wrong. I don’t want to leave it like this, but the words won’t come.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
We say our goodbyes, the unresolved tension thick between us, and as she walks away, I can’t shake the feeling that I missed something. Something important.
Lucas and Mia’s Lingering Thoughts
I sit at the edge of my bed, the soft glow from the lamp barely lighting up the room. My sketches are still laid out on the table across the room, the same designs I’ve been working on for weeks, but I can’t even look at them right now. My mind is somewhere else—still back at the event, still on her. Mia.
Why did I pull back?
It’s the question that’s been running through my head ever since I left the event. I keep replaying that moment in my mind—the way we stood there, so close, and I could’ve just… done something. Said something. Anything. But I didn’t. And I don’t even know why.
I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. This isn’t like me. I’m usually the one who keeps things under control, the one who doesn’t let emotions get in the way. But with Mia, it’s different. I don’t know what to do with these feelings.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so long focusing on work, on proving myself, that I forgot how to let someone in. Or maybe it’s because of everything that happened with Jessica, and I’m still not ready to go down that road again. But that’s the thing—I want to. At least, I think I do.
I get up, pacing the room. I’m overthinking this, but I can’t shake the feeling that I messed up tonight. That maybe if I’d just taken the chance, things would be different. But instead, I hesitated. Again.
I glance out the window at the city below, the lights twinkling like distant stars. I wonder if she’s thinking about me. I wonder if she’s as confused as I am.
----------------------------------------
Across town, Mia is sitting on the edge of her bed, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls. She’s been replaying the evening in her mind, just like I have.
Why did he pull back?
She sighs, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to make sense of it all. Things had been going so well—they were connecting, talking about more than just work and surface-level stuff. And then, in that moment, it felt like he was going to let her in. Like maybe this time, she could trust someone.
But then he didn’t.
And now, she’s left wondering if she should’ve done something differently. Maybe she shouldn’t have opened up about the calls and letters. Maybe she’s expecting too much from someone who’s clearly still carrying his own baggage. She doesn’t know.
Her mind keeps drifting back to the way Lucas looked at her, like he was about to say something important but stopped himself. There was something real there, something undeniable. But now she’s not sure if she imagined it, or if he’s just not ready to take that step. Either way, the uncertainty gnaws at her.
She glances out the window, the city’s nightlights a reflection of the thoughts swirling in her mind. She wants to trust him, but she’s scared of what could happen if she does.
----------------------------------------
I stand by the window, staring out at the skyline, and I wonder what Mia’s thinking right now. Whether she’s feeling the same confusion, the same pull that I am. I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know if we’re meant to keep circling around each other, both too afraid to make the first move.
But I know one thing—I can’t stop thinking about her.