I study Ethan’s face, searching for hesitancy or indecision, but when I find none, I nod. I would like us to get to a good place, and the first step is accepting his attempt to connect. Honestly, he’s already making an effort to be more understanding and empathetic, and he trusted me earlier when I told him I wasn’t the one who submitted the wrong report.
With a comfortable silence falling over us, we get back to work, pushing our way through the boring numbers, descriptions, and data. Ethan stays even closer to me throughout the entire process, sometimes touching me when he leans in. His hand brushes mine, then his arm presses against me, and he even scoots closer, nearly leaning into my back as we write a particularly difficult description.
By the time we’re done, my body is heated,
