The office hummed with the familiar symphony of productivity, but for Dash, it was just a dull, meaningless drone. The spreadsheets on his monitor blurred into an endless grid, and the lines of code on his second screen were a jumble of nonsensical characters. His mind was miles away, his thoughts a chaotic swirl centered on one single word: coward.
"You're just a coward hiding behind his past." Vesta's voice, sharp and laced with a hurt that had now become his own, echoed in the quiet of his private office. The truth of her words was a gut punch, and with that truth came a startling, painful clarity. He'd always admired Vesta as a force of nature, a brilliant friend who challenged him at every turn. But a realization was now boiling to the surface: he liked her in a way he hadn't allowed himself to consider before, a way that went far deeper than friendship.
He recalled every moment, every glance, every conversation. For the first time, he saw the patterns he had been too afraid to acknowledge. His life had been a methodical, color-coded plan—a series of calculated steps to escape his past. It was plain and boring, a controlled path devoid of risks. Vesta had introduced a chaotic, vibrant splash of unexpected color. She was the spice, the excitement, and he had looked forward to every second of it. That wasn't just friendship; it was something more, something he now realized he liked back equally.
He rose from his chair, a restless energy coursing through him, and began to pace the length of his spacious office. They were like sweet and sour, exciting and comforting at the same time. She was the fire that made things exhilarating and new, while he was the grounding force that would keep the space warm without letting it burn out of control. It was a perfect, beautiful paradox.
As he paced, he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror, a quiet, controlled man with a lean, athletic build. His sharp blue eyes, which people said held a certain kindness, stared back at him. His blonde hair, usually meticulously coiled, rested in a natural, soft wave. He imagined Vesta next to him, her fierce curves complementing his straight stature. He saw her red hair and vibrant green eyes creating a perfect contrast to his own cooler palette. Her tone, two shades darker than his, was a perfect tan, and her height, just reaching his chin, made her seem not too tall and not too short—just perfect enough for him to properly hug.
It felt as though they were made for each other, even physically. Her fiery feminine stature seemed to be a perfect match for his calm masculine energy. He knew she was fierce, but he also knew she was deeply empathetic. She would actually listen to him, never draining him but instead bringing passion and he, in return, would ground it. It sounded utterly perfect.
He sat back on his chair, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. He felt his cheeks flush, the heat a physical testament to a feeling he had long buried. He touched his face, the hot skin a startling sign that this was real. He was blushing because Vesta Steele, the brilliant, beautiful, unstoppable Vesta Steele, liked someone like him. He finally understood everything.
The revelation hit Dash with the force of a tidal wave, leaving him no choice but to get up. He needed to find her. The blush on his cheeks was a physical manifestation of his new understanding, and he couldn't stand being alone with it. He needed to see her, to tell her everything that had just clicked into place. He strode out of his office, his new sense of purpose evident in his every step.
He began his frantic search on the marketing floor, his eyes scanning the sea of cubicles. He moved with a speed that made heads turn, his gaze flicking from face to face. "Have you seen Vesta?" he asked a nervous-looking employee. "Ms. Steele? She left a while ago, Mr. Bolt," the young woman stammered. "I think she said something about taking the rest of the day off."
Dash's heart sank, but he didn't give up. He moved to the engineering department, his questions now laced with a desperate urgency. No one had seen her. "Have you checked with Code Kraken?" someone suggested, pointing to a corner desk. Dash found Code Kraken hunched over a server, his face illuminated by the green glow of a monitor. "Vesta?" Code Kraken said, not looking up. "Yeah, she came by earlier. She seemed... really upset. Grabbed a box of personal stuff and left in a hurry. Looked like she was packing things up."
The words hit Dash like a physical blow. Packing up? Did she mean she was leaving the company? Or... a more chilling thought took hold. His mind spiraled, replaying the raw emotion in her voice, the word she had thrown at him. "Coward." Was this his fault? Had he broken her?
He ran to the parking garage, his mind racing. He called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. He tried texting, his fingers fumbling over the keys. "Vesta, please, where are you? We need to talk." No response. He drove to her apartment, the one he knew from their time working late together. He rang the bell, his knuckles raw with urgency, but the lights were off and no one answered. He tried her usual coffee shop, a small, independent bookstore she loved, and even the public library, places she would go to escape the pressures of her world. Nothing. She was gone.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in a palette of burnt oranges and deep purples, Dash felt a cold dread settle deep in his bones. There was one last place he could think of, a place of peace and quiet. He sped towards the Aethelgard Bridge, the structure that had given him clarity just the day before. He pulled his car to a screeching halt and his eyes scanned the riverbank below. There, in the gathering dusk, he saw her.
Vesta was standing by the water's edge, her silhouette small and fragile against the vast expanse of the river. He saw her take a step, then another, until the water reached her ankles. A jolt of pure, unadulterated terror shot through him. Oh God, no. His mind screamed, imagining the worst, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He didn't even stop to take off his shoes. He flung the car door open and sprinted, stumbling down the uneven stone steps, his feet splashing in the shallow water.
"Vesta!" he yelled, his voice raw with panic. "Vesta, stop!"
He reached her in a flash, his hand wrapping around her wrist, pulling her back. His grip was firm, born of fear and adrenaline. He tugged her away from the water, towards the bank, his chest heaving as he pulled her to safety.
Vesta, startled by his sudden appearance, cried out in surprise. "Dash! What—" she began, her voice shaking. She looked up at him, her face a mixture of confusion and shock. She was soaked from the waist down, but her expression wasn't one of despair, just of quiet contemplation.
He looked at her, truly looked at her. Her eyes weren't haunted; they were calm. He saw the moonlight glinting off the water she had been standing in, a beautiful, peaceful image. The fear that had gripped him began to recede, replaced by a deep wave of mortification. He had overreacted. She hadn't been trying to take her life; she was just trying to find some peace, just like he had the day before.
Vesta, seeing the panic in his eyes, finally understood. A tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek. "I am so sorry, Dash," she said, her voice a fragile whisper. "I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have called you a coward. I was hurt, and I lashed out. I should have been more understanding. I... I have nothing more to say."
Her apology was genuine, but his recent realization made him brave enough to speak the truth. "No. You're right. I am a coward," he said, his voice quiet but firm, not a lie this time, but a confession. "And I don't deserve you. I realized it late, but I do realize one thing. I like you, Vesta Steele."
The moonlight illuminated her face, and he saw a flicker of hope in her eyes, quickly replaced by the familiar wall of doubt. "Like a friend, right?" she asked, her voice tinged with a painful resignation. "I don't mind being..."
Dash couldn't let her finish. He cut her off, his voice a little louder this time, filled with a newfound conviction. "More than a friend. I like you more than a friend."
The words hung in the air between them, charged and electric. Their hearts seemed to beat as one, a frantic, shared rhythm. Vesta's eyes, wide with disbelief and a fragile, hopeful joy, searched his. "Can I... can I hug you?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Dash didn't answer with words. He simply opened his arms wide. She ran to him, a soft sob escaping her lips. Tears flowed freely now, but they were a mix of relief and happiness. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face in his chest. He held her just as tight, his hands wrapping around her shoulders. Her face was pressed into his heart, and he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent—a mix of clean air, rain, and something uniquely her. The warmth of her body against his was a balm to his soul, grounding him in a way he had never felt before.
They stood there for a long time, the world melting away around them. Then, slowly, they pulled back just enough to see each other's faces, but their arms remained wrapped around each other. Their eyes, glistening with unspoken emotions, looked into one another's. They connected their foreheads, smiling, their noses softly caressing one another. He felt a perfect sense of peace he had never known. They turned their heads, their foreheads still touching, and looked out at the moon, its silver light creating a perfect reflection on the river. The world felt right again.
The silence on the bridge felt different now. No longer a chasm of unspoken words, it was a peaceful space filled with the easy rhythm of two hearts finally in sync. Vesta, still nestled in his arms, looked up at him, her eyes wide with a question she was too afraid to ask.
Dash's own heart was pounding, a wild drumbeat against the newfound calm in his soul. "That... that means we're dating?" he asked, the words feeling foreign and thrilling on his tongue.
Vesta broke into a wide, teary smile and nodded aggressively, her head bobbing like an eager puppy. The sight made him laugh, a genuine, joyful sound that echoed across the water. A light, playful mood settled between them, chasing away the last remnants of their earlier turmoil.
They finally pulled apart and walked back to their cars, a new air of comfortable intimacy between them. Vesta followed his car through the quiet city streets, her heart light and her mind buzzing with a pleasant disbelief. The sight of his sedan in front of her felt like a personal landmark. She was no longer just heading home; she was following him, and that simple act, a small part of a larger plan, was the most thrilling thing she had done all week.
When they arrived, Dash parked and offered to walk her to her apartment floor. "Ditch the elevator?" he suggested, a shy smile on his face. Vesta nodded, and they left the sterile metal box behind, opting for the intimacy of the stairs. They began their slow ascent, their hands linked, a silent conversation passing between them through their touch. Vesta felt an incredible sense of calm. His hand was so firm, so sure, a stark contrast to her lingering nervousness. She was used to being the one in control, the one with the firm grip, but with him, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace. His thumb slowly, gently, caressed the back of her hand, and with every step, his quiet strength seemed to seep into her, and her anxieties began to dissipate. They didn't need to talk; they were just feeling each other, basking in the simple, profound connection of holding hands.
Dash, for his part, was feeling the same profound peace. He could feel her hand tremble slightly, a small sign of her vulnerability, and then a gradual relaxation. He knew she was a storm of confidence and fire, but in this quiet moment, her hand in his felt as vulnerable as his own heart. He was the anchor, and she was the fire, and together, they were a perfect balance. He felt her nervousness go away as she leaned into his touch, and that simple, quiet act gave him more strength than any boardroom victory ever could.
They finally reached her floor, and as she stood at her door, a sudden wave of awkwardness washed over her. She knew what came next in movies and books. She leaned in, a bit awkwardly, to try and kiss him. But Dash gently held her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks, and pulled her back.
"Silly," he said softly, his blue eyes warm and full of affection. "You don't have to rush. We have all the time in the world. Baby steps, you know?" The words were more than just a sweet platitude; they were a reference to his own journey, his own struggle. This was him, the man who had always felt too small and too late, showing her he was ready to change, ready to go at a pace that was comfortable for them both.
Vesta's shoulders relaxed, and she looked down, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips. A blush rose on her neck, and when she looked back up, she saw that he was blushing too. The sight of his pink cheeks and shy smile made her heart flutter. He leaned in and gently kissed her forehead. The contact was brief, but the tenderness of the act made her feel cherished and safe, not just desired.
"I'm confirming stuff, and I'm firm about it, Vesta," he said, his voice dropping to a serious, reassuring tone. "No more gray areas. Now don't overthink it. Just go inside, okay?"
"Okay, Dash. I will," she said, her voice a little shaky from the mix of emotion. "Drive safe. Ping me when you get home."
He nodded, giving her hand a final, gentle squeeze. He watched her until her door clicked shut, the last glimpse of her smile a perfect memory in his mind. He then turned and took the elevator down, a wide, unstoppable smile on his face. The sterile, close space that had once held a painful confrontation now felt like a private chamber of victory. Everything felt right in his world again.