The man beside them cleared his throat, oblivious to the silent tension. As the elevator slowed again, he stepped forward. “This is my floor,” he announced to no one in particular.

The doors opened, and he exited, leaving them alone once more. But now, Daniel stood in the middle of the elevator, and she was tucked into the corner. He didn’t move back to create more space, and the distance between them remained tantalizingly close.

A sharp twist in her stomach. The air between them felt charged, electric. Why doesn’t he step away? Part of her wanted the distance to close. Part of her wanted to bolt. What is wrong with me? Every inch of proximity made her pulse race, her breathing shallow, her skin hyperaware of the space that remained.