That evening, Jerica stood by the door, nervously fidgeting with the handle as she glanced at the clock. She was excited about dinner, hopeful that maybe tonight she and Jared could reconnect.
They hadn't had a real conversation, not since that unexpected moment in the record room when Jared had pulled her close. That brief, heated encounter had awakened something in her—a flicker of desire and hope she hadn't felt in a long time.
Tonight, maybe they could rekindle that spark. Maybe over a hearty meal, they could find their way back to each other.
She had already started planning the conversation in her head. They could talk, laugh like they used to, maybe even—
"Jerica," Jared's voice interrupted her thoughts as she walked into the living room. He was standing there, holding up two ties—one in each hand, his face expectant.
"This one or this one?" he asked, completely oblivious to the evening she had envisioned.
