“You look cute in your party hat,” he says softly, tugging at a bit of the elastic string by her ear. Color creeps into her cheeks and he smiles down at her.

They’re standing close together in the kitchen. Outside, people are distracted by cake and conversation. He’s been telling her about his alliance with Dwight, but really she isn’t sure she’s heard a word. It’s been a day filled with whispers and games and secrets and her skin buzzes just a little now.

Now he’s laughing and smiling and showing off all of his teeth, leaving his finger there on her cheek just by her ear. But it isn’t tugging playfully at the string anymore. It’s just resting there and she turns her head a little to make it press harder against her skin. Then it’s his palm there and parts of it are rougher than others and the center is so smooth.

They’re quiet now, trapped in one of those moments that they aren’t allowed to be trapped in.

She takes a breath. He doesn’t move his hand. She steps closer to him until he backs into the counter and laughs nervously under his breath. He reaches up and takes off her party hat, slowly so the elastic string won’t snap at her. Her hand floats up to her hair, touching it slightly to fix any damage done by the hat. When it floats back down, it lands on his arm because she’s so close, too close to him.

He’s wearing his blue shirt. The one that makes his eyes look like spring. Her hand rests on the part that’s been rolled up, a few extra layers thankfully separating her fingers from his skin.

He looks at her with a half smile on his lips. Like a dare or a challenge.

She lifts her hand and rests it on her hip. She takes a step backwards and laughs awkwardly when she bumps into a chair.

He cocks his head to the side a little and says, “How far is Stamford again?”