Dane lounged in the DanCo break room, feet shamelessly propped on the coffee table. A half-empty mug of coffee rested between his fingers, steam curling lazily upward. Monday mornings dragged, but Dane seemed unfazed—too smug to care, too cool to try.
Cole stepped in, impeccably dressed in a navy suit. Sharp, clean. He looked like he'd just walked out of an ad—fresh, alert, every detail in place.
Dane's grin widened.
"Well, well. Look who survived the weekend. You look like you just sidestepped a wedding proposal."
Cole smirked, heading straight for the coffee machine. "Lifelong commitments? Not my style. Except for espresso."
Dane raised a brow. "So, what's the story? You disappeared with that caramel-cutie—Naya, right?"
Cole paused mid-pour. His jaw ticked.
"Naya. Yeah. I offered to get her home. That's all."
Dane nearly choked on his drink. "Wait, you didn't make a move? You? What's going on with you?"
Cole shrugged. "She's not like the others. She's… different. I used a call as an excuse. But I almost."
Dane leaned back, eyes sharpening. "Big words coming from Mr. One-Night-Only." He took a slow sip. "Meanwhile, your boy Dane here had a lapse in judgment. Jenny's texting me 'good morning' with sparkles and stars. Miguel even saw her photo pop up. Now he's giving me that HR look."
Cole chuckled. "You're a walking disaster, man."
"I'm the wild card," Dane said with a smirk. "But you? You're catching feelings. Should I be worried?"
Cole's smile faded into something quieter, heavier. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just waiting for the right kind of fire."
Dane whistled. "That sounds dangerously poetic. You okay, boss?"
Cole didn't answer right away. His mind drifted—back to the softness of her laugh, the steadiness in her eyes. The way silence didn't feel awkward with her. He hadn't planned on seeing her again.
"You gonna text her?" Dane asked, more gently this time.
Cole shook his head. "Didn't even take the number."
Dane sat up straight. "Bro. You had the perfect in. You helped her out, walked her home, and you didn't even take the damn number?"
Cole didn't answer. Around her, everything slipped—confidence, charm, control. And that scared him.
Dane stood and stretched. "Alright then. But don't come crying when someone else swoops in."
Cole smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Won't mind," he muttered, though his chest told a different story.
Dane narrowed his eyes, then grinned. "Liar."
Cole exhaled, the smirk fading. He straightened, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve. "Anyway. What's the situation with today's shoot?"
Dane caught the pivot but let it go. "Model might bail again. Miguel's already halfway to madness. Swears he'll shoot the mannequins if no one shows."
Cole shot him a flat look, but the edge of his mouth curled.
Dane checked his watch, then slung his duffel bag over one shoulder.
"Well, this is me clocking out for the week. Dubai calls."
Cole raised an eyebrow. "Still jealous you got that pitch."
"You snooze, I schmooze." Dane winked. "But seriously—take good care of the place."
Cole lifted his cup in salute. "Always do."
Dane was almost at the door when he paused, tossing one last grin over his shoulder.
"And hey—better hope someone photogenic walks in today. Office could use a little spark."
Cole chuckled. "As long as they're not another walking mood board with no concept of deadlines."
Dane laughed, pushed open the door, and disappeared into the hallway.
The room went still.
Cole stayed where he was, leaning against the counter, coffee cooling in his hand.