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“Let’s go.”

We make our way through the lobby and up to our room on the twentieth floor. Nick pushes the door open, and the room is stunning with a mid-century modern feel. There’s a funky white couch in the centre, with bright orange lamps resting on minimalist side tables. Behind the large TV in the centre of the room is a mirror. I take in our reflection, and I can’t help but like how we look together, except that we aren’t together, and we never will be. I look away and focus on the carpet that has an abstract design, and then the simple white curtains. A perfect combination that makes the room warm and inviting even at this hour. There are two bedrooms, one on either side of the sitting room.

Separate rooms. I can do this. I exhale.

“Are you hungry? We could order room service,” he says.

“I’m good. I think all I need is a shower and a bed.”

“Me too,” he says, and there’s a moment where we just look at each other. “Okay, sleep well.”

He heads in one direction and I go in the other.

I close the bedroom door and lean against it, fighting the urge to join him in his room.

I lock myself in the bathroom to shower, acutely aware as I’m undressing that he’s just a few feet away, and that makes me flush all over.

Get it together.

I shower quickly and jump into my PJs: a lacy tank top and matching silk pajama shorts. Rachel said I needed to stop wearing old, ripped T-shirts to bed as that was bad energy, but now I feel too exposed and wish I had packed one. It’s not like Nick is going to barge in here, although I’m not sure if I’d mind if he did... Stop, Nisha!

I lie in bed. My body is so tired, but my mind is wide awake. I replay the events of the past few days in my head. Questioning, doubting, and second-guessing everything.

I shouldn’t have lingered at the bar on Friday. I could have avoided everything with Matt.

I should have told Nick I didn’t need his help and avoided almost getting busted by Tom.

I should have apologized more profusely to Eshaan, especially with our engagement ceremony only a month away. I can’t stand it when he’s upset with me, and this time he’s thoroughly pissed.

Then my thoughts drift to tomorrow and the pitch. Nick and I practiced our presentation in the car, but I’m nervous. There is still a chance we could lose, and my promotion depends on this. I’ve been so focused on all the drama in my life that I’m losing sight of what I want—to be successful and finally show everyone that I’m not wasting my time on my career. I’m making something of myself, instead of just being a fuck-up.

I toss and turn for what feels like forever, and then finally look at the clock. It’s almost midnight. I remember the balcony, and suddenly, the need for fresh air overwhelms me.

I throw on a robe just in case and quietly open my door. The sitting room is dark, and Nick’s door is closed.

Good.

I tiptoe to the balcony and find the curtain pushed back and the sliding door already open. I look outside to see Nick lounging on a loveseat. His body splayed out. One arm behind his head and one leg hanging over the side. His eyes are closed, and he looks so breathtaking I can’t help but stare. I drink in the sight of his tight white tee hugging his slim, muscular body and his black lounge pants accentuating his strong thighs. I never get to check him out in this much detail, and I’m not going to miss this chance.

“Come join me,” he says, sensing my presence.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were out here.”

His mouth rises into a smirk as if he knows I’m ravaging him with my eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep. You?”

“Me neither.”

I come outside and move to the railing to take in the view of the city lights, buildings, and ocean around us. It’s stunning. I love imagining people in their homes and what their lives are like. Kids tucked soundly into bed surrounded by their stuffies. Couples binge-watching Netflix together. Artists working on their creations late into the night, driven by something beyond comprehension. Late-night workers hustling to take care of the city and their families.

“Seattle is beautiful, isn’t it?” I whisper to him as he comes and stands next to me.

“It is.” He’s looking at me and not the view.

If this is an act, then I want to be a part of the whole damn play.

I unconsciously start rubbing my neck, not even realizing I’m doing it until Nick looks at me with concern. “Is your neck hurting?”