Olivia stood in front of her bedroom mirror, adjusting the sleeve of her sweater. It was a soft, deep charcoal grey, fitted at the waist but with just enough room for comfort, the fabric hugging her figure without being tight. The sweater had a delicate V-neck that framed her collarbone and accented the subtle necklace she always wore. She paired it with her favourite dark wash jeans, the kind that fit perfectly without feeling too snug, the hem just brushing the tops of her ankle boots. The boots were leather, sleek but practical—just the right balance of casual and polished.

It wasn't the kind of outfit she usually wore for a date. She had spent a lot of time in work clothes lately, and casual nights out didn't always require effort. But tonight felt different. Tonight, she was cooking dinner for Daniel—the third time they'd met—and she was still figuring out where this was going. The simplicity of her outfit reflected how much she was trying to keep it grounded, trying not to overthink it.

She took a deep breath, adjusting the soft waves of her hair, reminding herself that she wasn't nervous, just...hopeful. The night had the potential to be something real, something that could evolve. She just needed to relax, to see where things went.

She'd spent the last hour preparing the meal—simple, but thoughtful. A grilled salmon with a side of roasted vegetables, nothing too fancy but something that felt like an effort. The kitchen smelled warm and inviting, the soft simmer of garlic in the background, the faint hum of music playing quietly in the living room. She'd gone with something instrumental, jazz to set the mood. Light, unobtrusive, a backdrop to the evening she hoped would unfold easily.

She wasn't sure why she'd agreed to this. A quiet dinner at home felt more intimate than she'd intended, especially so early in a relationship. Offering to cook felt like an invitation to something deeper, more intimate, and for some reason, she couldn't back out of it. Maybe she wanted to show him she was more than the work that she did. Maybe she just wanted to be wanted. She'd learned from past mistakes—very past mistakes—how men could start to expect more as things progressed, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that. Olivia was no stranger to the one-night stand; in another time, another version of herself, she'd embraced the fleeting thrill of it. But she'd grown past that sort of thing, past the shallow connections that left her feeling more alone the morning after. With Daniel, she liked the conversations they'd shared, his easy humour, and the way he seemed to get her. But she wasn't sure what he expected, and that thought made her stomach twist.

A quiet sigh left her lips as she carefully brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her reflection suddenly feeling more uncertain. She was older now, wiser. She wasn't the same woman who'd gotten involved with Cassidy, who'd let the line between personal and professional blur so easily. She wasn't ready to give more, not yet. Not with Daniel, not with anyone. Yet there was something magnetic about him, something that made her feel seen in a way that left her simultaneously thrilled and uneasy.

Her thoughts shifted unexpectedly, her mind wandering to Elliot. She hadn't meant for it to happen, but there it was. He hadn't said a word about Daniel—not directly, anyway—but something had changed between them recently. He'd been quieter around her, more observant, as if he knew something was up, even if she hadn't told him. She caught him glancing at her differently sometimes, and when she thought about it, she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Complicated was an understatement. She wasn't sure why her thoughts always turned to him when things started to get real with someone else. He was her partner, her closest friend. Nothing more. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

But then again, hadn't they always been more than just partners, even when they didn't say it? She didn't know. But whatever it was, she wasn't ready to think about it. She couldn't let herself.

There was a soft knock at the door, pulling her back to the moment. Her heart fluttered in anticipation. She opened her mouth to call out to Daniel, but when she swung the door open, it wasn't Daniel standing there.

It was Elliot.

Olivia stood frozen in the doorway, momentarily caught off guard by his unexpected appearance. She blinked, trying to make sense of it. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not tonight.

"Elliot?" she asked, her voice a little too sharp, too confused.

He flashed a small, apologetic smile, the kind he wore when he knew he was full of shit but wasn't going to admit it. He shifted uncomfortably, holding a manila folder in his hand. "You left this," he said, trying to sound casual, but they both knew it was a flimsy excuse. It wasn't anything important—just a set of case notes that could easily wait until Monday. But he convinced himself she might want to get ahead on it over the weekend, even though it was unlikely she'd bother until then.

Olivia raised an eyebrow, glancing at the folder in his hand before meeting his eyes. "Thanks," she said, taking it from him, her voice flat, but she didn't make a move to shut the door. She forced herself to smile, though it felt thin, stretched tight across her nerves. "You didn't have to do that," she said, her voice cool but careful, trying not to give anything away. "It could've waited till Monday."

He shrugged, but his eyes lingered on her, his usual nonchalance failing to hide the undercurrent of something else. "Just wanted to make sure you had everything."

She caught the subtle way his gaze hovered over her—her outfit, the soft music playing in the background—and something inside her shifted uncomfortably. He knew this wasn't a work visit. They both knew it. But here he was, standing in her doorway anyway, making up some excuse to be there. And for some reason, it unsettled her more than it should have.

Elliot hesitated just a second longer than necessary before stepping inside, his presence too big in the small space of her apartment. She could feel the shift in the air, a kind of tension that hadn't been there before. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting Daniel to knock at any moment, though she knew he was still a few minutes out.

"Everything's okay?" Elliot asked, his voice low, his gaze drifting over her once more, lingering just a little longer than felt comfortable. It was as if he could see through the layers, see the walls she'd carefully constructed around her emotions, and was still trying to break them down.

"Fine," she said, her voice sounding a little more clipped, her patience thinning.

Elliot nodded slowly, but the look in his eyes didn't soften.

Olivia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, to focus on the moment. This was just a visit from a colleague, nothing more. "I'm actually expecting someone," she added, her tone firm now, a quiet dismissal in the words.

Elliot didn't move right away, his gaze drifting to the kitchen, where the faint smell of cooking still lingered in the air. It finally seemed to occur to him that maybe he was intruding. His eyes flickered back to hers, and there was an almost imperceptible shift in his expression.

"Alright," he said quietly, breaking the silence. "I'll let you get back to it, then."

Olivia nodded, feeling a strange relief as he turned toward the door. Just as quickly, that same feeling of discomfort returned. He was still there, still so close, his presence making her second-guess everything. She exhaled slowly, her chest tight as he left. She tried to shake it off.

Whatever this was, she couldn't let it derail her evening. She had a date to focus on. But the unease in her chest remained, gnawing at her, like a whisper she couldn't quite ignore.

What the hell just happened?

As Elliot stepped out of Olivia's apartment, he was still trying to shake off the strange discomfort that had settled in his chest. He turned just as the sound of shoes echoed down the narrow hallway. The man who appeared, holding a bouquet of flowers, was tall, with a confident stride. His eyes caught Elliot's for a second too long before he broke the silence.

"Hey, there," the man said with a casual nod, his tone deliberately light. He was tall, well-built, with dark, neatly combed hair and an easy smile that seemed practiced, almost too polished for someone just meeting a stranger in the hallway. He stopped just outside Olivia's door, the flowers clutched in one hand, the other loosely resting by his side. His posture was confident, almost deliberately so—one shoulder slightly angled toward the door, as if he were already imagining himself inside.

"I'm guessing you're, uh, leaving?" His gaze flickered briefly over Elliot, a quick scan that didn't quite seem like an accident. His eyes, a sharp blue, held a glimmer of something that didn't quite sit right with Elliot—something too calculating, too smooth. But there was also an openness there, as if he were trying to give off a friendly, approachable vibe.

Elliot's pulse skipped for a moment. The flowers, the man's stance—everything about him screamed that this was more than just a casual visit. It was obvious why he was standing there, flowers in hand, a hopeful look in his eyes. He was here for Olivia. And while that was none of Elliot's business, it still felt...off.

"Yeah," Elliot muttered, forcing his voice to remain as neutral as possible. He wasn't here to pick a fight, but he also didn't want to make this any more awkward than it already was. He shifted his weight, trying to look casual, but his instincts were already screaming that something wasn't right. The man's smile was a little too perfect, his posture a little too relaxed. There was an underlying tension in the way he held himself, like he was always prepared for whatever move came next. Elliot could practically feel the guy sizing him up, and he didn't like it.

"Just dropping something off," Elliot added, offering a vague excuse he didn't believe for a second. It sounded weak even to him, but he didn't have anything else to say. He had no reason to explain his presence—he wasn't there for any reason other than to be sure Olivia was okay.

The man's smile dimmed for the briefest moment, but he quickly recovered. The politeness didn't fade, but it was clear there was a little crack in the image he was trying to maintain. "Hope you have a good evening," he said, his eyes briefly scanning the door to Olivia's apartment, the soft glow of the lights spilling through the gap. The man didn't seem to mind Elliot's lack of response—he was already adjusting the flowers in his hand, focusing intently on the door to Olivia's apartment as if he were already imagining what kind of evening awaited him.

Elliot didn't like the vibe of expectation the man gave off, like he couldn't wait to get Olivia undressed. It crawled under his skin, making his teeth clench. Anyone else watching this scene unfold would probably see a sweet guy—nervous, hopeful, doing his best to impress. But to Elliot, it felt like a pissing contest he hadn't agreed to, one where his jealousy painted every detail in the worst light. Either way, it gave him the ick.

"Right," Elliot muttered, his throat tight. He nodded once, but it wasn't a gesture of politeness—it was more a way of getting away from the man without showing too much emotion. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he quickly stepped around the man, not quite making eye contact but still feeling the pressure of the guy's gaze. It was like Daniel had already sized him up and found him...lacking. And that feeling wasn't lost on Elliot, who could sense the subtle, unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

As Elliot walked past, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about this man—he was too smooth, too controlled. There was something in the way he carried himself, in the slight edge to his smile that made Elliot's instincts bristle. It wasn't just the flowers. It wasn't just the easy manner. It was everything. I'm not jealous, am I? he wondered honestly to himself. And he decided that no, he wasn't. Not exactly. Olivia was free to do what she wanted—she had every right to. So why did it feel like something in him was reacting? He wasn't sure. He tried to push it down, tried to bury the unease. He reached the stairs and started down, trying to talk himself out of the tightness in his chest. It's just a guy with flowers. It's not a big deal.

The knock on the door cut through the jazz in the background, and Olivia's heart skipped. Third date. This could be the one, she told herself.

She opened the door to find Daniel standing there, a small bouquet of lilies in his hand, his expression soft with that characteristic warmth of his.

"Hi," he said with a smile, and she felt herself smile back, maybe a little too quickly, but she couldn't help it. "For you."

"They're beautiful." Olivia took the flowers, a blush creeping up her neck. She'd been hoping this would go well. She had to admit she liked him. She liked him a lot.

He stepped inside, taking in the apartment with a quick, appreciative glance. The faint scent of fresh herbs mingled with the wine she'd opened earlier, and the low hum of jazz played in the background, the atmosphere perfectly set for a relaxed evening.

"Nice place," he commented, his voice smooth, but there was an undercurrent there that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Thanks. I'm glad you could make it tonight."

She led him to the table, and he gave her an easy smile, taking his seat. Olivia couldn't help but notice how he seemed to glance at her a bit too carefully, almost like he was measuring her reactions. But she shook it off. It's just nerves. You've been too cautious in the past. This is different.

"So, how was your day?" she asked, trying to fill the silence, her fingers nervously adjusting the napkin on the table.

He took a sip of his wine before answering. "Busy, but good. I'm glad to be here." He reached for the salmon, offering her a small, knowing smile. "Everything looks delicious. You must've put a lot of thought into this."

"I did," she said with a small laugh. "I wanted to make it special." She was relieved to hear him sounding more engaged now.

The conversation flowed easily. They talked about work, about their weeks, about anything and everything that seemed to fill the space. Olivia noticed the way Daniel's gaze kept drifting to her, not in a way that felt possessive or strange—but something else was there, something she hadn't seen before.

They finished their meal, and he rose to help her clear the dishes, his easygoing attitude a contrast to the faint feeling of unease that was still gnawing at Olivia's stomach. She smiled at him, grateful for the help.

But then the evening shifted.

When they were standing close to each other, drying the last of the dishes, Olivia found herself in the warmth of his gaze again. His hand brushed against hers, the touch casual but somehow intent. He stepped closer, his eyes meeting hers with a lingering intensity.

"I think it's safe to say we've had a great time tonight," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned in just enough to make her pulse quicken. "Don't you?"

Olivia hesitated, unsure of how to answer. The air between them thickened with expectation, not entirely unexpected, but not something Olivia was sure she wanted. Her mind raced—she didn't want to overthink it. She didn't want to overanalyze. This could be what she was hoping for, the beginning of something real.

But the question lingered: Am I ready for this?

"I think so," she said, the words coming out softer than she meant them to. Her heart beat a little faster as his hand found her waist, his thumb stroking the skin just above her jeans. His touch was slow, deliberate.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't sudden, exactly, but it was urgent, as if he'd been waiting for this moment, knowing it was inevitable. His lips were warm, coaxing, and for a moment, Olivia let herself sink into the kiss, closing her eyes and ignoring the tightness in her chest. This was nice, wasn't it? She wanted it to be. She could feel the intensity building, the way his hands moved, as if he was trying to pull her closer, to make this something more. She wanted it too, didn't she?

The kiss deepened, and for a second, it was easy to let herself believe that maybe this was what she'd been missing. She responded, her lips parting for him, her hands hesitating at his shoulders, unsure of what came next.

But then, just as quickly as it had all begun, her instincts kicked in, and she pulled back, slightly breathless.

"Wait," she whispered, her voice uncertain. "I think we need to slow down." Her heart raced—not from desire, but from something else—something familiar, a tightening of her gut that had kept her from letting things go too far in the past.

Daniel's eyes darkened just a little, but his smile didn't waver. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice smooth, almost coaxing. His hands remained on her waist, holding her in place.

"I—yeah," she said, her voice firmer now, though there was a slight tremor beneath the surface that she hated. Why was this so hard? She wasn't some teenager who couldn't handle her feelings. She'd never had a problem saying no before. She knew who she was, what she wanted, and where her boundaries lay.

But this felt...different. Fast. Like she was losing control of the rhythm of the evening and handing it over to someone else. Why did she feel the need to hesitate, to soften the edges of her own instinct? Was it because she wanted this to work so badly? Because for the first time in what felt like forever, she was letting herself hope for something beyond her job, beyond the walls she'd spent years building?

She wasn't used to this version of herself—this softer, second-guessing Olivia who seemed to question every move. Was she being unreasonable? Too guarded? The thought unsettled her, and she had to remind herself to breathe, to trust her gut. But that little voice in the back of her mind whispered: What if you push him away? What if this is your chance, and you're ruining it?

Still, she didn't want to rush into something she wasn't sure of yet, not just to prove something to herself—or anyone else. She looked at Daniel, his expectant gaze fixed on her, and tried to shove those thoughts aside. No matter how much she wanted this to work, it wasn't worth ignoring the part of her that was hesitating for a reason.

Daniel paused, studying her, as though waiting for her to change her mind. He lowered his hands slowly, the expression on his face almost unreadable now. "Okay," he said after a moment, his voice softer than before, "if that's what you want."

For a brief moment, Olivia thought she might have seen an almost imperceptible flash of irritation behind his eyes. But he masked it quickly, and Olivia wasn't sure if it had been there at all. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

She smiled, a little shy, hoping to smooth things over. "Yeah, just...we've got time, right?" She tried to make it sound light, like this was just a normal thing to say.

"Right," he agreed, but his smile seemed a bit too practiced now. He stepped back slightly, giving her space, but she caught the way his jaw tightened as he did.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, but the air between them was thick with an uneasy sense that the night hadn't gone quite as planned. Not as he had planned, anyway.

As Daniel left, his hand brushing hers in a final touch, Olivia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. It wasn't terrible. They had both enjoyed themselves, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something wasn't quite right. Still, she was determined to let things play out.

She closed the door behind him, leaning against it, her thoughts racing. Maybe it was just the pacing. Maybe it was Elliot's interruption earlier. She took a deep breath, hoping the discomfort was temporary, something she could smooth over in the next few dates.

The evening might not have gone exactly as planned, but it wasn't ruined. Not yet. She would give it time. Maybe it was just the beginning of something good.