My scissors cut into the soft fabric of the project I had been procrastinating on for a while. They faltered in my hand as I tried to push them through. I let out an unsatisfied grunt, tearing the edge in frustration before whisking the fabric off the table and pinning it to the headless mannequin in the corner of my studio. My hair tickled my back as I leaned in closer, trying to get a better view of where the next pin should go. My well practised fingers swooped up, slipping the needle from between my teeth, and I squinted while carefully pushing it into the material.
“That should be good,” I murmured, tilting my chin up while adjusting the hem. I could almost see it as a completed dress, but I still wasn’t impressed. Crossing my arms, I stepped back a few paces to inspect it. Would I even finish on time? I sighed.
“It looks great.”
The low, husky voice broke the silence. It was Lando. We had been friends for years, long before this undeniable desire had crept in, before the weight of unspoken words began to crawl between us. Our bond, for the most part, had been effortless. We built it on laughter, late-night talks, and a mutual understanding. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. Maybe it was the first time I noticed him looking at me too long, licking his lips. Or when he started dating someone else, and he wasn’t as available to me. I think I noticed it when we touched—small, insignificant brushes of skin that neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
Then there were moments we’re still unable to explain. The night we stayed up until the sun poked her face over the horizon. We were lying too close, our words tapering off into a silence...
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Read all about the wonderful author: Schuyler Graves
