Emma's pov
Being friends with Alex Volkov was both easier and harder than I thought it would be. Easier, because when we were in the moment—talking, laughing, sharing stories about work—it felt natural, like this was always how it was supposed to be. But harder, because there was always this undercurrent between us, this pull that I couldn't ignore. No matter how hard I tried.
And I was trying. Hard.
I glanced across the table at him as he sat there, quiet, lost in thought. The Alex I knew at work was always sharp, always focused, but there was something different about him in moments like this—when it was just the two of us. His guard was down, even if just a little. He was softer, more relaxed, and honestly… it was hard not to notice.
God, this whole "just friends" thing was proving to be a challenge.
"You okay?" I asked, because he had been staring at his drink for the last five minutes without saying a word. That wasn't like him.
He blinked, like he'd forgotten I was even there, and gave me a quick smile. "Yeah, just thinking."
About what, I wanted to ask. But I didn't push him. Alex was a complicated guy—intense, guarded, and impossibly hard to read. And for some reason, that just made me more curious about him. More drawn to him.
He leaned back in his chair, his expression softening as he looked at me. "So… what's next? Another club night with your friends?"
I laughed, shaking my head. "Not anytime soon. Celine and Serena keep asking me, but I need a break from all that." I paused, thinking about the last time we went out, about the way Alex had been at the club, about how everything had changed in that split second when our unspoken attraction had nearly blown up in our faces.
God, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about it.
"I think they're convinced I'm avoiding them," I added with a grin.
"You are," he said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at me.
I shrugged, not denying it. "Maybe. But honestly, I just needed a reset."
And I did. A chance to figure out what I was doing with this whole thing with Alex. We'd been walking a tightrope ever since that night, and while we'd both agreed to this friends thing, I could feel the cracks. They were there, just beneath the surface, threatening to split open if either of us let our guard down for even a second.
But he didn't need to know all that. I wasn't about to dump my conflicted feelings at his feet. So I smiled, playing it off. "Don't worry, though. When I'm ready, you're definitely coming out with us next time."
"Oh, am I?" he asked, his voice amused, but his eyes sharp, studying me in that way he always did—like he was trying to figure me out.
"Yup," I said, nodding emphatically. "You owe me, remember?"
"For what?"
"For being my friend," I teased, but there was a truth underneath it. We were friends, after all. I'd made sure of that.
He rolled his eyes but smiled, and for a moment, it felt easy again. Just the two of us, without the tension lurking in the background. But then I had to go and push it, because, well… I couldn't help myself.
"Besides, I'll need you there to fend off the creeps." I shot him a playful grin, though I didn't miss the way his expression darkened just slightly at the mention of guys hitting on me.
That night at the club… I hadn't forgotten how he'd reacted, how furious and possessive he'd gotten when some random guy had the audacity to dance with me. It was still vivid in my mind, the way he'd crossed the room in seconds, his eyes burning with something fierce. And if I was being honest, I hadn't hated it.
But that was the problem. I didn't want to like the way he made me feel—possessed, wanted, like I was his, even though we'd barely started to be friends.
"I'll be there," Alex said, his voice low, almost too serious for the playful tone I'd been aiming for.
I blinked at him, my heart stuttering at the sudden intensity in his voice. He wasn't joking. He meant it. If I needed him, he'd be there. No questions asked.
The air between us shifted, thickening with the weight of everything we weren't saying. My stomach flipped, the familiar pull between us making itself known again. I could see it in his eyes—he felt it too, no matter how hard we both tried to ignore it.
For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to navigate this thing between us that was growing more complicated by the day. So I did what I always did when things got too real—I smiled, brushing it off, pretending like my heart wasn't racing in my chest.
"Well, that's settled then. I'll let you know when the next girls' night is," I said, my voice lighter than I felt.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, can't wait."
But the truth was, I wasn't sure how long we could keep this up—this delicate balance between friendship and something more. Because every time we were together, it felt like we were inching closer to the edge. And part of me wondered how long it would be before one of us gave in.
Or if we'd both fall, together.