Chapter 30

Waking up next to Thomas is not awkward even if I'm half-naked and he's… happy to see me? I scoot away from the warmth of his body before I auto-combust and do something stupid. After putting a little space between us, I drink in his beautiful sleeping face like a total creep who watches people sleeping.

I groan.

Eyes still closed, he reaches out for me and pulls me back in, careful to keep a respectful distance between us. "Don't freak out, Campbell, we're fine."

And somehow, I believe him. I snuggle back into his embrace until the alarm sounds and we're jerked back to reality.

Our time in Rome flies by all too quickly and before I know it, we're headed to the airport and back to the States.

As the plane takes off, I can feel Thomas's eyes on me. I turn to face him and find him smiling at me; the smile quickly turns into a mischievous smirk. He reaches for my hand and our fingers intertwine, the usual tingles shooting up my arm.

The entire time on the plane, I can't stop smiling like an idiot whenever our eyes meet. And when we land, I'm not even that tired—mostly energized. Admittedly, traveling comfortably nestled in the first-class thrones might've helped.

We make our way through customs and baggage claim—which takes forever—and when we reach the arrivals hall where all the other passengers are being met by friends and family, a company driver is waiting for us with Mercer Robotics spelled out in black pixels on a white screen.

It's a jarring return to reality. One where Thomas, as of now, is still on a path to becoming my future boss and therefore undatable. Untouchable. Unkissable.

Subconsciously, I take a step away from him, putting some professional distance between us.

Since it's Sunday, at least we're not going straight to the office but back to our respective places. Thomas insists on driving to mine first.

We're quiet on the drive, lost in our own thoughts. When we reach my apartment, I want nothing more than to invite him in—and if we'd ridden here in a regular cab, I probably would have. But our driver works for the company, he could spread gossip, and so I purse my lips and keep quiet.

We end up having the most awkward parting on the curb. Thomas seems undecided on how to say goodbye, when it looks like he's going in for a hug, I push my arm forward and offer him my hand to shake.

Thomas smirks but still takes my proffered hand—but in a way that's not strictly professional. I don't know how a handshake can be turned sensual, but he manages it. It could be the way he touches me, the twinkle in his eyes, or the playful smile that tugs at his lips.

And when he winks at me and says, "See, you tomorrow at the office, Campbell," my heart does a somersault.

I watch him climb back into the car and wave at me through the window. As the car pulls away, a pang of sadness hits me. I turn around and head into my building, feeling despondent. In my apartment, I sag onto the couch and grab my purse, wanting to send him a text or at least stalk his Instagram a bit. Instead, hidden in the folds of my bag, I find a blue note.

The thrill is so intense because I wasn't expecting this one.

Rome wasn't built in a day, but I'll talk with my dad soon.

Thomas, x

PS. What do you call an invisible droid?

C-through-PO.

The joke is so cringe that I laugh my head off. Then, I hug the Post-it to my chest as I smile at the ceiling. Monday morning can't come fast enough.