The following Monday, the air in the office carried that strange mix of quiet concentration and muffled chatter. Adrian had settled into his usual desk, fingers tapping idly at the keyboard, half-distracted by the thought of Emily's laugh from their lunch together last week. He wasn't ready to admit to himself how much space she'd begun to occupy in his mind.
"Adrian," a voice called from across the cubicles. It was Clara from HR, holding a clipboard as though it were a piece of breaking news. "You've been paired with Emily for the client presentation this Friday. The file's in your inbox."
Adrian blinked. "Emily? As in…"
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Do we have another Emily?"
He turned his head just in time to see Emily emerging from the copy room, her hair tied up in a messy bun, a pen tucked behind her ear. She looked busy, confident, entirely in her element.
She caught his eye and smiled, walking over. "Looks like we're stuck together," she said, holding up her own copy of the project brief.
He grinned. "Guess we'll find out if we can work together without wanting to kill each other."
She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "That sounds like a challenge, Adrian."
They agreed to start after lunch. The brief was straightforward — create a proposal for a potential new client's social media campaign. But as soon as they sat down at the small conference table, Adrian realized something: Emily had not changed her approach to work since university.
She read every line twice, scribbled notes in the margins, and underlined phrases with the precision of someone annotating a rare manuscript.
"Still an overachiever, I see," he teased.
"Still a procrastinator, I see," she shot back, without looking up.
The hours slipped by faster than either of them noticed. They brainstormed ideas, argued over the right tagline, laughed at each other's ridiculous suggestions. At one point, Emily tried to sketch a rough layout, but her pen ran out of ink halfway through.
"Of course," she muttered, shaking it as if the pen would magically obey.
Adrian tossed her his. "Use mine. You still hold your pen wrong, by the way."
She ignored the jab and kept writing.
By the time the sun dipped low, casting amber light into the room, they had most of the presentation ready. But Emily glanced at the clock and sighed. "We'll have to stay a bit late if we want to finish tonight."
He didn't mind. The office was quieter after hours, almost intimate. The sound of keyboards, the hum of the air conditioner, the occasional rustle of paper — all of it framed their easy banter.
At one point, Emily leaned over his laptop to adjust a slide, her hair brushing against his shoulder. He caught the faint scent of vanilla shampoo and found himself momentarily distracted.
She noticed. "Something wrong?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, just… thinking."
Around 8 p.m., they finally pushed their chairs back.
"We did it," she said, a mix of satisfaction and fatigue in her voice.
"We?" Adrian smirked. "Pretty sure I came up with the winning idea."
"Right. And who refined it so it didn't sound like a bad movie tagline?"
He chuckled. "Fair point."
They packed up together, stepping out into the cool night air. The city streets were quieter now, the neon lights painting everything in soft colors.
As they walked to the bus stop, Emily turned to him. "You know, working with you wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
"Same here," he said, then added, "Though I still think you drink too much coffee."
She grinned. "And I still think you don't drink enough."
The bus arrived, and as she stepped on, she glanced back at him through the open door. "See you tomorrow, partner."
The door closed, and the bus pulled away. Adrian stood there a moment longer than necessary, watching it disappear into the night.
For the first time in years, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.