Chapter 8 The Line Between Us

Monday arrived with the weight of secrets. Noah stood at the glass elevator, straightening his tie for the third time. His reflection was confident, calm, in control. But his stomach was chaos. He'd spent the weekend thinking about Ethan. Not just thinking-reliving. Their second kiss. The feel of Ethan's hand against his back. The sound of his voice when he whispered, "This is real." And now they were back at work, surrounded by cameras, colleagues, and every unspoken rule about what was allowed and what wasn't. As the elevator doors opened to the executive floor, Noah took a deep breath.

Show time. He walked in like nothing had changed. So did Ethan. For hours, they were professionals. Emails, briefings, investor notes. A full strategy review on the Q3 expansion. Ethan barely looked at him-except once, when Noah handed him a report and their fingers brushed for a half-second too long. It was nothing. And everything. No one noticed. Or at least, no one said anything. But tension crackled between them like a current humming beneath the surface. Noah finally caught a moment alone with him after the investor call wrapped up. "Can we talk?" he asked quietly, still holding his tablet. Ethan glanced up, expression unreadable. "Five minutes in my office." Noah nodded. He waited exactly five minutes. When he stepped inside, Ethan had already shut the blinds. Noah closed the door behind him and leaned back on it. "Are we pretending again, or can we be honest?" Ethan looked tired. Not physically, but emotionally-as if he was carrying a thousand invisible weights. "I'm trying," he said. "I know." "This is new to me," Ethan added. "Not the attraction. The wanting something... real." Noah walked slowly toward the desk. "You mean with someone you actually see a future with." Ethan didn't respond, but his silence was answer enough. Noah sat on the edge of the desk. Close, but not touching. "So what's stopping you now?" Ethan looked at him. Really looked. "You." Noah blinked. "Me?" "You make me feel like I want everything I've avoided." "Is that a bad thing?" Ethan stood, paced once. "It could cost us everything." "Or it could give us something worth everything." Ethan stopped in front of him, face inches from his. "You really believe that?" "I have to. Otherwise, I'm just showing up to a job every day with a broken heart." The words hung in the air between them-sharp, honest, irreversible. Ethan's shoulders sagged. "I don't want to hurt you, Noah." "Then don't." They stood like that-locked in a moment that could crack everything wide open. Then Ethan stepped forward and kissed him again. It was different this time. Not urgent. Not risky. Just... true. And when he pulled away, his voice was barely above a whisper. "We can't let anyone find out." Noah nodded. "We won't." Ethan's hand lingered on his hip. "But I need to know you're in this. Even if we have to keep it hidden." "I'm in," Noah said. And for now, that was enough. They became masters of the unspoken. Glances across the room. Brief touches passed off as accidents. Texts sent in code and deleted within minutes. Noah never stayed late alone. Neither did Ethan. But they sometimes lingered in the break room after hours, pretending to discuss project specs while their knees brushed under the table. It was thrilling. It was maddening. It was real. Every time they got close, they had to step back. And yet, something in their connection grew stronger in the restraint-like fire denied oxygen. The danger of it made it hotter. The silence made it louder. Then came the offsite. A three-day leadership summit in the Catskills. Twenty executives. Endless panels. Shared rooms. Noah almost declined. But Ethan's eyes caught his during the planning meeting, and that was enough. They both knew what the weekend would be. Not a vacation. But a test. The resort was nestled in evergreens, the air crisp with pine and early spring wind. Noah arrived late Friday afternoon, tossed his duffel bag on the bed of his assigned room-and froze. There was one bed. Just one. He stared at the crisp white sheets like they'd betrayed him. Then the door opened. Ethan stepped in, dragging his own bag behind him. He paused. "They said the double rooms were full." Noah arched an eyebrow. "You didn't arrange this?" "I didn't," Ethan said. Then smiled faintly. "But I'm not complaining." Noah tried to stay casual. "Neither am I." Their eyes met. The air between them thickened instantly. Noah stepped forward, voice low. "This is a bad idea." Ethan closed the distance. "The worst." But he was already unbuttoning Noah's shirt. That night was not quiet. It was messy and clumsy and breathless and desperate. Ethan kissed like he was trying to undo every wall he'd ever built. Noah touched him like he was mapping out sacred ground. They moved in sync-like they'd done this a thousand times in another life. It wasn't perfect. But it was everything. Afterward, they lay tangled under the sheets, their bodies spent and silent. Outside, the forest whispered. Ethan turned to him in the dark. "This changes everything." "I know," Noah murmured. "Does it scare you?" "A little." "Good," Ethan said. "Because I haven't been scared in a long time. And I forgot what it meant to want something that badly." Noah rolled to face him. "Then let's be scared together." And just like that, the line between them disappeared.