The bar Luca chose was louder than I expected.
Not the kind of place where you whispered secrets, but not a club either. Warm lighting. Wood tables. The kind of space where people leaned in closer without realizing they were doing it.
I told myself I was here to unwind.
That lie lasted about five minutes.
Noah was there.
He stood near the far end of the bar, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a drink untouched in his hand. He wasn't talking much. Just listening. Observing.
When his eyes met mine, something tightened in my chest.
He didn't smile. Didn't look away.
He nodded once. A quiet acknowledgment.
I should have gone home then. I didn't.
Luca introduced me to a few people, stayed close without crowding me. He had a way of anchoring a space, making it feel safe without claiming it.
But Noah's attention kept pulling at me.
Every time I laughed, I felt it. Every time I shifted in my seat, adjusted my posture, tucked my hair behind my ear.
Eventually, he moved closer.
"Didn't expect to see you here," he said.
"I almost didn't come."
Something flickered across his face. Relief? Approval? I couldn't tell.
"You should," he replied. "You disappear too easily."
The words landed heavier than they should have.
"I don't disappear," I said.
"No," he agreed quietly. "You make yourself small."
I stared at him. "That's a strange thing to say to someone you work with."
"Yes," he said. "It is."
We stood there for a moment, suspended in something fragile. Then Luca appeared beside us, smiling easily, breaking the tension without acknowledging it.
"Everything okay?" Luca asked.
"Yes," I said too quickly.
Noah stepped back, as if reminding himself of distance. "I should head out."
He left without another word.
The space he vacated felt colder.
And for the rest of the night, I couldn't stop wondering why being seen had unsettled me more than being wanted ever had.