Transient Ties

I dragged my tired feet to my room, trying not to think about Michael. Or his eyes. Or his lips. Or his voice. Or the fact that I wanted to do shameful things to him.

I took a long shower, made a lazy dinner—spaghetti again—and sprawled out on my bed, wrapped in a towel, scrolling mindlessly through my phone. Then I stopped scrolling.

Michael.

The man was now my boss. How do I avoid him? How do I avoid the undeniable sexual tension between us?

I sighed and opened my messaging app.

Me: Hey Izzie, you free for a call?

Barely ten seconds passed.

Isabella: Call now. I need gist.

I rolled my eyes and hit the dial button.

"Babe!" she said the moment she picked up. "Anytime there's gist I'm always available. Spill. All."

I hesitated. "Well… there's this guy I met back in uni…"

I calmly tell her about Michael.

"OMG!" she squealed. "Girl tell me you're joking."

I giggled, pulling my blanket tighter. "I'm very serious and I just… don't know what to do."

"If you wanna do him, then just do him," she said bluntly, like she was suggesting what toothpaste to use. "You're both consenting adults. It's just connecting genitals for release. No crime in that."

I snorted. "Izzie!"

"What?" she said defensively. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

I paused. "…Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

"Then do it."

"It's not that simple," I murmured, staring at my ceiling. "You know I'm not as open-minded as you. I wish I was. But… I think Michael actually likes me. Like, wants something real. And if I go into it with… just lust… it's unfair to him."

"Then don't do it," Isabella said casually. "But if I were in your shoes, I'd definitely do it."

I burst into laughter. "You are definitely the queen of bad advice."

"Excuse you! I am the queen of liberation. I'm that one friend your mom warned you about."

I laughed harder. "You really are. You influence children negatively."

"Thank you. I take that as a compliment."

We laughed until I couldn't breathe, and just when the laughter died down, Isabella's voice turned soft.

"But honestly, Kim… life doesn't have to be this hard. We complicate things with all these moral standards and societal expectations. Sometimes you have to flush all that down the toilet for your own joy. I know your barrier isn't just morals… but what if your sexy Greek god only feels lust too? Clarify. Ask him. And then… do the deed."

I shook my head, smiling. "I hear you. But you're dangerous."

She chuckled. "Damn right. So anyway, how's your mom?"

"She's fine. I talked to her yesterday. She said to greet you."

"See? Parents love me!"

And it was true. Isabella had somehow wormed her way into my mother's heart after a single phone call. It was shocking how close we'd become in just over three weeks. With Isabella, formality disappeared. Her energy demanded connection. You couldn't keep boundaries even if you wanted to.

We gossiped for another twenty minutes before I finally said goodnight.

The next day, I didn't see Michael at work—not once. It was a silent relief. I told myself it was a good thing. A safe thing. No handsome distraction. No temptation. No sexy Adam's apple bobbing up and down in front of me while drinking water...

But of course, peace is temporary.

Just before closing, Isabella stormed into the lab. I immediately dragged her out.

"Where's your fine boy?"

"Excuse me?" I blinked.

"Michael. I came to meet him. Show me the way."

"Are you mad?" I stood, eyes wide. "What's wrong with you?! Go up there by yourself."

And she did—turned on her heel and headed to the elevator like she owned the building. I bolted after her, dragging her out by the sleeve.

The moment we stepped outside, Michael's car pulled out of the parking lot. He saw us and stopped.

"Need a ride?"

Isabella gave me the look. You know the one. The is-this-him-he's-even-hotter-in-real-life look.

I said, "No thanks."

Isabella said, "Of course."

I whispered, "Didn't you bring your car?"

"I'm too tired to drive. I'll call my driver later."

And just like that, she ran to the car and jumped in.

I had no choice but to follow. Michael's knowing smile as I sat beside her nearly made me groan.

"Where to?" he asked.

I gave both our addresses and leaned against the window, praying for silence.

Wrong prayer. Isabella was in full interviewer mode—asking about his age, his work, his childhood, his favorite food. Every time Michael gave a sweet answer, Isabella shot me a look like, He's perfect. Don't mess this up.

Finally, we dropped her off. But not before she said, "Michael, you're nice, handsome, sexy, and it's such a shame I didn't meet you first."

Then she winked at me and slammed the door.

I wanted to melt.

I cleared my throat. "Don't take Izzie seriously."

Michael chuckled. "I didn't know you were friends with the Prime Minister's daughter."

"Well, I'm friends with you. Son of one of the richest men in the country. So... maybe it's not that crazy?"

"Touché."

"I mean, damn, you're lowkey."

He shrugged. "That's daddy's money. I've got nothing to show off for."

We both smiled.

A few minutes later, we arrived at my place.

"Can I come in for a glass of water?" he asked.

I almost said, Buy a bottle. But... he drove me home. I sighed and opened the door.

Inside, he admired the décor. "Not very... feminine."

"I like neutral tones. Dark colors. Calm."

He nodded. "We have something in common."

I handed him water. He drank, and I watched—watched as drops escaped and slid down his neck. My stomach flipped.

He caught me staring. "Had enough?"

I nearly choked. Then I said confidently to cover the embarrassment "Well, you are... hot. So what's there not to look at?"

He smiled—one of those slow, unreadable smiles—and stared.

Too long. Too deep.

Suddenly, it was too warm. I shifted. "Aren't you leaving yet?"

"Are you driving me away?" he asked, amused.

I didn't answer.

He stood. "Fine. See you tomorrow, Kim."

At the door, he paused and said in his deep voice, "I hope you dream about me tonight."

Then he left.

And oh, I did.

That night, I had a dream so intense, so vivid, I woke up breathless, aching for something I couldn't name. I stared at the ceiling, wishing I could wash the dream out of my brain.

This attraction wasn't ending. It was growing.

And for that very reason...

I needed to run. Again.