Nick.

Nick is the kind of person you'd like to forget, like your worst nightmare. He's been your enemy since childhood: kindergarten, school, college, and even now—the same damned job. Wherever you are, he's there. You hated each other sincerely, without a hint of romance.

My friends have asked me more than once:
"Why don't you leave?"
But you decided otherwise - let him go.

One day, lost in thought by the window, you heard a knock on the door. Leah, your colleague and friend, entered with a mug of coffee.

• Here you go, miss, you're clearly tired.
• Thanks, Leah, you're helping me out.

During the conversation she suddenly said:
— Do you want to know something you won’t really like?

You nodded.

— I like Nick.

"Do you like Nick?!" you blurted out.

At that moment, Nick passed by the half-open door. He heard, grinned, and moved on.

Later that evening, you were waiting for the elevator. The doors were almost closed when a man's hand held them shut. Nick walked in and, leaning against the wall, chuckled.

• So you like me?

• What?

He came closer.

— Do you like me? You don't have to answer. I overheard your conversation with Leah.

And then you realized: he'd decided he liked you, not Leah. Correcting that felt awkward and mean to your friend.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping, I was just passing by,” he added.

• And it seems to have been successful?

Another smirk.