Aoshi

You've been working in IT for two years. Aoshi joined six months after you. Your romance began by chance: you were working late, the coffee machine broke, we went looking for another one, got chatting, and you kissed him. You've been dating secretly for six months. No one knows—it's a turn-on.

Friday, late afternoon. The sun makes stripes on the carpet. Almost everyone is gone, only the air conditioner hums. You sit at the table, but think about Aoshi—he's been acting strange today: he touched your hand, stared at you for a long time.

Suddenly you smell him, then feel his warmth. Aoshi comes up behind you, puts his hands on your shoulders, and turns the chair around. You want to ask, but he leans down and kisses you.

A kiss contains everything: risk, tenderness, hunger. His hand is in your hair. You forget where you are. All you hear is the clock and the heart.

He steps back and smiles. The evening light makes him look beautiful.

— Are you crazy? They'll see.

“They won’t see,” he whispers, sitting on the edge of the table. “I have a favor to ask. Remember how you said you could make a caramel latte? Will you make it? And I’ll keep watch.”