Author's Preface
[Annie]
The car glides into the underground parking garage of our building by the time it starts drizzling, the dull hum of the engine cutting out.
John shifts into park and turns around in his seat. "I'll take the injunction files and the final reports straight to the main office tonight, sir. You need to rest."
"Make sure legal gets the signed affidavits first," Kai says, his voice raspy as he leans forward.
"I've got it handled," John says gently, shooting me a silent, grateful nod. "Please, go upstairs."
We ride the elevator up in silence.
The doors open on our floor, revealing the softly lit corridor between our apartments.
We live directly across from each other.
Usually, it feels entirely practical, but for some reason, tonight, it doesn't.
Kai stops at his door, keycard in hand.
He looks over at me, his expression warm despite the feverish flush on his cheekbones.
"Goodnight, Annie," he says softly.
"Goodnight. Take rest," I remind him.
He gives me a small, tired nod and slips inside.
I step into my own apartment, sliding the lock into place.
[ *** ]
Outside my window, the light drizzle has already turned aggressive.
The wind whips against the glass, and heavy rain begins to pour down, drumming a relentless, loud rhythm against the frame.
I change into a pair of soft lounge pants and an oversized t-shirt after a much needed shower, but as I lie in bed, sleep refuses to come.
The rain is too loud, and my mind keeps drifting across the hall.
Did his fever spike again? Did he actually drink water before passing out?
Contacting him directly feels like crossing the line I fought so hard to build.
Calling or texting to check on his health feels far too intimate, far too uncautious.
Then my mind lands onto the thermos on my kitchen counter.
The one he gave me in the shelter, 2 days ago.
I walk over to the kitchen counter and my eyes land on a boxed artisanal coffee bean set.
The one I had picked from the mall to return his gestures weeks ago.
I had been far too occupied with other things and completely forgot to give it to him.
It's just returning his property, I tell myself.
And giving him a late thank-you gift.
I pick up the thermos and the boxed coffee set, stepping out into the quiet, carpeted hallway.
[ *** ]
Standing in front of Kai's door, the hallway lights hum softly.
I raise my hand to ring his doorbell—and freeze.
My hand hovers an inch from the button.
What am I doing? It's past midnight. He's sleeping.
This is absurd.
I stand there in silence for a few seconds.
Panicked by my own sudden lack of restraint, I turn on my heel, ready to retreat back into the safety of my apartment.
Before I can take a single step, the heavy door behind me clicks and swings open.
"Annie?"
I turn around, the excuse dying instantly in my throat.
Kai is standing in the doorway, leaning slightly against the frame.
He's not wearing his suit.
In fact, he's not wearing a shirt at all.
Instead, he's in just a pair of low-slung grey sweatpants, the waistband riding low on his hips.
His dark hair is damp, small droplets of water clinging to his collarbones and tracking down the faint, defined line of his stomach.
Resting on the bridge of his nose is the silver-framed glasses that catch the soft hall light.
I freeze, completely speechless.
I've seen Kai in suits, dress shirts, even the occasional t-shirts, but never like this.
I stand there for a second too long, as my hands tighten instinctively around the coffee set.
His eyes track my sudden stillness through the silver-rimmed lenses, taking in my flustered expression.
"I heard footsteps," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave lower, raspy and thick with sleep.
He looks down at the thermos and the boxed set in my arms, then back up into my eyes, a slow, dangerous warmth settling in his gaze. "Did you need something?"
The narrow hallway suddenly feels too small.
The rain pounds against the windows of the building across from us, but neither of us says anything.
"Here," I say, forcing my voice to stay level as I extend both the thermos and the boxed coffee set toward him.
Kai gives me a quick look before taking them from my hands.
His fingers brush my wrist for just a second, and I feel a faint prickle against my skin.
He lifts the boxed set slightly, his glasses catching the soft light as his eyes scan the label before moving back to me.
"Thank you. But why bring this up now?" he asks, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.
His voice is low and rough, still heavy with sleep and fever. "It's past midnight, Annie. You could have just brought these tomorrow."
"I tend to forget things if I don't clear them off my mind," I reply, keeping my hands clasped tightly in front of my t-shirt to hide the slight tremor in my fingers.
"Like this coffee, for instance—I bought it days ago to return your gesture, and it sat on my counter because I kept forgetting. I'm just clearing my inventory."
I see the corner of Kai's mouth lift slightly in what barely passes for a smile.
He steps back and opens his door wider. "Come inside."
"No," I say immediately, taking a step backward toward my side of the carpeted corridor. "It's late. And you're still running a temperature—you should be in bed, Mr. Sterlings."
"I have a quick question about the SilverOak affidavits," he says, completely stepping over my refusal. "It'll take five minutes. I'll sleep right after."
"It can wait until our morning brief before the city council meeting."
"It's better if we align on it tonight so we don't waste time in the morning," he insists, his tone quiet but firm.
I pause, my eyes darting from his tired, flushed face to the warm light spilling out from his living room.
I let out a long, silent breath and give a small, reluctant nod. "Five minutes."
[ *** ]
"Living room. Have a seat," Kai instructs, walking over to the glass coffee table.
He picks up a thin blue manila folder, hands it to me, and turns toward the kitchen. "Review section four. I'll be right back."
I sit on the edge of the dark leather sofa, uncrossing and recrossing my legs as I open the folder.
The apartment is quiet, with only the rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows and the faint sound of water boiling in the kitchen.
A few minutes later, the soft clink of ceramic against glass draws my eyes up.
Kai doesn't bring work notes.
Instead, he sets a steaming ceramic mug onto a slate coaster right on the table in front of me.
A subtle, dried-flower scent drifts up with the steam.
I look at the mug, then glance up at him, caught off guard. "Chamomile?"
"You've been clenching your jaw since we left the courthouse," Kai says simply, setting a second mug—aromatic with fresh ginger and honey—beside his own.
"Thank you," I murmur, genuinely touched despite the wall I'm trying to maintain.
I reach out, wrapping both hands around the ceramic to let the heat soak into my cold fingers.
Kai settles into the armchair directly across from me.
He still hasn't put on a shirt.
As if sitting across from him wasn't already distracting enough.
He leans back, resting one ankle over his knee, taking a slow sip of his tea while his eyes lock onto mine from behind those silver frames.
I clear my throat and look back down at the folder, but when I glance up again, Kai is still looking at me.
"The second affidavit," I begin, my voice wavering just enough for me to hate it. "If opposing counsel pushes on the zoning timeline—"
I keep my eyes on the printed text, but sitting four feet away from him—with his bare chest right in my line of sight—makes it impossible to focus.
A warmth creeps up my neck, and I feel my cheeks heat up.
Kai tilts his head slightly, watching my cheeks turn red through his glasses. "Should I turn on the AC?" he asks, his tone calm and completely unbothered.
"No," I snap a little too quickly, taking a hasty sip of the hot tea, which only makes my face feel warmer. "I'm fine."
A low hum comes from Kai's chest. "You look just like you did at my first university gathering."
I pause, the mug resting against my lip.
I frown, searching my memory. "What gathering? The orientation mixer?"
"No." Kai says softly, his eyes tracing the line of my jaw.
He gives me no further explanation.
I blink, thoroughly confused.
I remember some of the gatherings, but only as a chaotic haze of music, flashing lights, and a lethal punch bowl.
I usually ended up completely drunk, relying entirely on my friends to navigate me back to the dorms.
"I... I don't remember seeing you," I say, curiosity tugging at me as I lean slightly forward. "Did we speak?"
Instead of answering, Kai just takes another sip of his ginger tea, sets the mug down with a deliberate clink, and reaches over to take the SilverOak folder out of my hands.
"Section four is fine," he says smoothly, completely shifting gears without missing a beat. "Make sure the junior clerks cross-reference the court order before eight tomorrow."
I stare at him, my brows drawing together in frustration. "Wait. Kai—Mr. Sterlings. What did you mean about the gathering?"
"It's late, Annie," Kai says, his voice low and soft, giving nothing away. "You said five minutes."
I open my mouth to press him further, but the look on his face tells me he isn't going to say anything else tonight.
Frustration builds inside me, but my professional side takes over.
"Right," I say, gathering my posture as I stand up. "I'll see you in the lobby at seven-thirty."
[ *** ]
Kai walks with me, following me around the coffee table and into the short foyer.
He stays close behind me.
When I reach the front door, I turn around, ready to give him a formal goodnight, and immediately realize I've misjudged how close he is.
My back reflexively hits the door frame just as he takes another step forward.
His chest lightly brushes against my shoulder as he reaches past me for the latch.
The contact lasts barely a second, but I feel the heat of his skin through my t-shirt.
I expect him to step back. He doesn't.
His palm lands against the door beside my head, leaving me with nowhere to go except farther against the wood.
Then his other hand reaches down for the handle.
Up close, I can see the dampness still clinging to his hair and the tired strain in his face.
His glasses sit slightly crooked on his nose.
He doesn't touch me.
"Kai," I whisper before I can stop myself.
His eyes briefly drops to my mouth, but long enough to make my pulse trip over itself.
When he looks back at me, neither of us says anything.
"Get some sleep, Annie." His voice is rough from the fever.
Then he pulls the door open and finally steps back, giving me just enough room to slip past him.
The cold air from the hallway hits my face, and I walk out before I can think of anything to say.