Summer glanced at him, weighing the idea. Seeing how anxious and tense he had been earlier, she figured it wouldn't hurt to spend a little more time with him. "Sure," she agreed, offering him a small smile. "A walk might be nice."
They made their way downstairs, and the garden welcomed them with a soft glow, illuminated by lanterns hanging from trees and casting flickers of light across the path. The moon was full, casting a silvery glow over the neatly trimmed hedges, flowerbeds, and winding stone pathways. It was like something out of a fairy tale.
As they strolled side by side, Summer admired the picturesque scenery, taking in the tranquility of the night. "This place is beautiful," she mused, her voice soft as she glanced around. "It's hard to believe we're still in the middle of a city."
But Tristan barely heard her words. His attention was entirely captivated by her—by the way her hair shimmered in the moonlight, by the way her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and the graceful way she moved. There was something effortlessly magnetic about her that made it impossible for him to look away.
As they continued walking, Tristan, too lost in admiring Summer, didn't notice the low bench in front of him. He stumbled, his foot catching on the edge of it.
"Trish!" Summer gasped, instinctively reaching out with her good hand to steady him.
But instead of preventing a fall, her sudden movement sent them both off balance. In a tangle of limbs, Tristan fell back onto the bench, and Summer, trying to catch him, ended up tumbling right onto his lap.
The moment seemed to freeze in time. Summer sat perched on Tristan's lap, her body leaning into his, his arm securely wrapped around her waist, while his other hand rested on the bench, supporting his weight. Their proximity was dangerously close, her soft breath brushing against his neck.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Tristan, still processing what just happened, could only stare at her. Summer's heart raced, her cheeks flushed as she realized the compromising position they were in. She hastily tried to get up, pushing herself off his lap with her good arm.
But in her rush, her face lifted toward his just as Tristan instinctively looked down at her. Her lips grazed his stubbled chin, a feather-light touch that sent a shockwave through them both. They froze, eyes locking, their faces inches apart, breaths mingling.
In that moment, the world around them faded into the background. The sounds of the garden—the distant rustling of leaves, the soft hum of city life—disappeared. There was only the two of them, their hearts pounding in unison, the air charged with an inexplicable tension.
Tristan's hand, still wrapped around her waist, tightened slightly, as though he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. His eyes, dark and intense, searched hers, trying to understand the sudden pull between them. Summer, equally mesmerized, felt her breath catch in her throat, unable to move or break the spell.
It wasn't until they heard the innocent laughter of a child playing nearby that reality snapped back into focus. Summer blinked, breaking eye contact, and hurriedly scrambled out of his lap, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"Oh god," Summer muttered under her breath, brushing her hair back with her good hand. "That... was... definitely not what I had in mind for our walk."
Tristan, still flustered and trying to recover, chuckled nervously, his own face a deep shade of red. "Yeah, uh... not quite what I expected either," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
Summer, trying to shake off the awkwardness, cracked a joke to break the tension. "Well, at least if we fall like that again, we can start charging for entertainment. We could be the clumsy duo act!"
Tristan couldn't help but laugh, albeit a little bashfully. "Yeah, I don't think we'd sell too many tickets, though. Might have to work on our... coordination."
Summer grinned, the awkwardness melting into something lighter. "Good point," she said, her voice teasing. "We'd need to rehearse the whole 'falling on each other' routine. But hey, at least you've got a pretty good lap to land on."
At that, Tristan's blush deepened, and he laughed despite himself, clearly flustered but also amused. "Glad I could... provide a soft landing."
The moment felt both surreal and intimate, the tension between them still lingering as they stood there, both lost in their own thoughts. The earlier awkwardness had subsided, replaced by something more subtle, yet undeniable.
Clearing his throat, Tristan looked at her with a small smile. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to—"
"I'm fine, really," Summer reassured him, though she could still feel her heart racing from the brief but intense moment they had shared. "Let's just... chalk it up to bad luck with benches."
They shared a small, somewhat bashful laugh before deciding it was time to head back inside. As they walked toward the hotel, side by side, both of them couldn't help but feel like something had shifted between them. Something unspoken but very real.
When they finally parted ways at their doors, they both mumbled quick goodnights, each lost in their own thoughts as they retreated to their rooms, trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside them.
The next day, Summer was jolted awake by the loud ringing of her phone. She groggily fumbled for it on her bedside table, squinting at the screen. Sammy's name flashed on the display, and a sigh escaped her lips. This early?
"Yes, Sammy?" she muttered, trying to wake herself up.
"Boss, you won't believe it! Tristan made an unexpected move with the white corps project, and they're impressed. They seem more inclined toward him now," Sammy reported urgently.
Still half-asleep but now more alert, Summer sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. "Tristan, that damn slick fox... of course, he'd pull something at the last minute," she muttered. "He's the worst. That ego-driven, show-off bastard! How does he always manage to pull this off? It's infuriating!"
Sammy laughed on the other end. "I don't know, but you've got to hand it to him. The man knows his business."
"Sure, if by 'knows his business,' you mean 'sneaks up behind you and steals the rug out from under your feet.'" Summer rolled her eyes. Despite her frustrated words, a grudging respect underlay her tone. "You have to admit, though... the guy's got some serious business brains."
Meanwhile, in the adjacent suite, Tristan sneezed loudly. He rubbed his nose and mumbled, "Who's cursing me this early?"
Summer, unaware of this, rolled her eyes at her own thoughts. "Sammy, hold on tight and…wait for my email. I'll fix this."