Glass Ambitions

The office was dead as a graveyard past midnight. All the usual clatter, keyboards clacking, people jabbering, was gone, sucked up by this creepy quiet that made every little noise sound huge. The glass walls bounced back the dim lights, throwing weird shadows across ZenithTech’s slick, fancy setup. Computer screens glowed with lines of code, the only damn things still alive in here. Just me and Liam left, busting our asses to squash a bug before tomorrow’s big show-and-tell.

I rubbed my eyes, fighting to stay awake. The place wasn’t the same as daytime, none of that buzz, people darting around. At night, it was off, too still, like it was holding its breath waiting for something. I flicked a look at Liam next to me. Guy was glued to his screen, fingers flying over the keys like a machine. He was locked in, focused in a way that got under my skin more than it should’ve. Told myself it was just respect, Liam’s a wizard at this crap, probably the best coder here. But nah, there was other junk mixed in, stuff I didn’t wanna own up to. Like how his messy hair caught the light just right, or how his quiet vibe reeled me in. Shoved that noise down deep, locked it up tight.

“We gotta nail this,” Liam said, not even glancing up. “Client demo’s tomorrow, if it tanks, we’re screwed.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, staring at my own screen like it’d cough up answers. “I’m trying. Feels like the code’s screwing with us on purpose.”

He smirked, just a twitch. “You’re doing alright, Nate. We’ll crack it.”

That hit me harder than it had any right to. Liked that he thought I could hang with him. “Thanks,” I said, forcing a grin. “Let’s keep going.”

We hammered away in silence for a bit. Just the tap-tap of keys and the low hum of the machines. My eyes were burning, screaming at me to quit staring at the screen, but I didn’t stop. Neither did Liam. Then he piped up.

“Yo, hold up, check this,” he said, jabbing a finger at his monitor.

I scooted closer, chair creaking like it was pissed. Our heads were damn near touching as I squinted at his code. “What’d you catch?”

“This function, it’s choking on empty values. That’s why it keeps crapping out.”

I blinked at it. He was dead-on. “How’d I miss that?”

Liam let out a quiet laugh, this soft little sound that flipped my stomach. “Late nights’ll fry you. Happens to everybody.”

“Guess so,” I said, fixing it on my end. Our shoulders bumped when he leaned over to peek, and I froze up. Barely a brush, but it hit me like a jolt, zinging all over. Heart started pounding loud in my ears.

He didn’t clock it. “Looks solid now,” he said, nodding. “Let’s run it.”

I hit the button, and we both stared. Code ran smooth, no crash. I let out this shaky breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “We did it.”

Liam grinned, eyes lighting up. “Hell yeah, Nate.” He clapped my shoulder, all casual-like, but his hand hung there a beat too long. Warmth seeped through my shirt, and I couldn’t budge. My brain went haywire, did he mean something? Nah, no way. I jerked my eyes back to the screen, pretending to double-check, hoping he didn’t catch my face going red.

Before I could say jack, the door flew open. Harper strutted in, heels clicking loud and sharp on the floor. She was all dolled up, crisp suit, hair perfect, like she’d just rolled out of some late-night meeting. Didn’t fit the empty office vibe, and it made me sit up straighter.

“Still at it, huh?” she said, voice smooth but icy, like she was sizing us up.

Liam spun around with that easy grin of his. “Hey, Harper. Yeah, just wrapping up. You?”

“Checking the server,” she said, but her eyes stuck on Liam, didn’t budge, like she was dissecting him. “Seeing how you’re holding up.”

“We’re good,” Liam said. “Bug’s toast.”

“Nice.” Her smile was tight, didn’t touch her eyes, sharp like she knew something we didn’t. “Don’t burn out. Big day tomorrow.”

“We won’t,” Liam shot back.

She gave a quick nod and bailed, but not before throwing Liam another look. Something about it felt off, wrong, like she was measuring him for something. Left a sour twist in my gut, couldn’t pin why.

I let out a jittery breath when the door clicked shut. “She’s a lot,” I said, keeping it chill.

Liam shrugged. “Just doing her thing. Keeps the wheels turning.”

“Maybe,” I muttered, but I wasn’t buying it. Harper always seemed like she was playing chess while the rest of us were stuck on checkers.

Tried to shake her outta my head and focus, but I was off. Earlier, when the code had me slamming my head against a wall, I’d cracked open my email and started typing. Dumb as hell, a draft to Liam, spilling all the crap I’d buried. How I felt, how I couldn’t stop noticing him. Wasn’t gonna send it, just a dumb vent to unclog my brain. But after Harper’s creepy drop-in, I remembered it was still sitting there in my drafts.

My stomach knotted up. Had to kill it. “Hey, Liam,” I said, voice tighter than I meant. “Grab me a coffee? I’m crashing hard.”

He quirked a brow but nodded. “Yeah, sure. Back in a flash.”

Minute he was gone, I lunged for my laptop. Hands were shaking as I yanked up my email. There it was: “To Liam.” Words glared back at me, all raw and ugly. Went to delete it, finger hovering. For a split second, I pictured hitting send, what if he read it and felt the same? Stupid. It’d torch everything, our vibe, our jobs. Took a deep breath and clicked.

But I didn’t trash it. I sent it.

“No,” I hissed, heart slamming so hard I thought it’d bust out. Email zipped from drafts to sent. Panic clawed me up. We shared email access for work stuff, so I dove into Liam’s inbox fast. There it sat, unread. Deleted it, then checked his trash, gone for good. Hands wouldn’t quit trembling, but I’d dodged it. He’d never know.

Liam strolled back with the coffee right as I slapped the laptop shut. “Here ya go,” he said, handing it over. Frowned a bit. “You good? Look like hell.”

“Yeah,” I lied, grabbing the cup. “Just wiped. Long night.”

He nodded, but his eyes hung on me a sec too long. “Let’s bounce. We’re done.”

“Cool,” I said, faking a grin.

We packed up and headed out together. Whole way, I kept telling myself I’d pulled it off. Email was history, Liam didn’t suspect a thing. I was in the clear.

What I didn’t know was the company’s email system tracked every damn move. Down the hall, in some dark office, Harper’s monitoring crap had snagged it all, my sent email, my scramble to erase it. It was stashed away, waiting, and I didn’t have a clue.