The Little Accidental Touch

Author POV

It was already an hour since the discussion started. Their project document was open, half-filled with notes and edits, the cursor blinking patiently in the middle of an unfinished sentence.

"Wait," Amelia said, leaning forward, "I think we should reword that part about the case study–make it more direct."

Justin nodded, reaching for the keyboard at the same time she did. Their hands met - briefly, lightly, skin brushing skin.

For a moment, neither moved.

Justin's fingers froze mid-air, hovering just above hers. Amelia, too, stilled, eyes flickering toward him with a startled look that wasn't quite surprise–more like awareness.

"Sorry," he said quickly, drawing his hand back.

"It's fine," she replied, just as fast, her voice even.

They both shifted slightly, an almost imperceptible readjustment in posture—as if to restore the space that had unexpectedly vanished. The air between them wasn't tense exactly, but something had changed. A thin thread of unspoken attention now lingered where there had been only focus.

Justin cleared his throat, tapping a key with a little more force than necessary. "So, you were saying - about the case study?"

Amelia nodded, picking up right where she'd left off.

They didn't mention the overlap again. But the silence afterward carried a new kind of quiet-still professional, still polite–but no longer quite the same. And the time fled by.

Amelia POV

Justin yawned stretching his hands behind his back. "I think we shall have short break," he suggested.

We had discussed almost every segment of our project. I did not expect to work at this place with Justin. He suggested a lot of ideas and easier time-saving tasks. And right now, we both are equally tired. So yeah, a short break is a must for both of us.

"Yeah, sure. Let's chill for a moment", I said while keeping my notebook and the pen aside.

"Wait for me. I'll make some coffee for us."

By the time I could register his words, he already fled to the kitchen. No doubt I really needed caffeine at this point, so I didn't try to stop him.

I stood slowly, stretching my arms as if to shake off the stiffness from sitting too long. My eyes drifted toward the cozy and lightly dimmed balcony, but something else caught my attention-a room just adjacent to where we had been sitting, it's door slightly ajar.

I didn't mean to look, not really. But my gaze flicked upward, landing on a small set of photo frames lining a narrow shelf just inside the room. For a moment, I stood still, blankly observing.

The photos weren't arranged to show off-they just seemed... Placed. Natural. Personal.

In the first, Justin was sitting on the grass with a young girl, both of them laughing. His sister, maybe?

Another frame showed a family of four, pressed together under a wash of evening light. The same girl, a woman with kind eyes, and a man-tall, with sharp features and a calm expression. The man's arm rested protectively on Justin's shoulder.

Then one smaller frame caught my attention – a black-and-white photograph, slightly older. A younger version of that same man held a newborn in his arms, looking down at him with a faint, tired smile. The baby was unmistakably Justin.

In the last frame, Justin stood proudly in a football jersey, holding up a trophy with both hands, eyes lit up with excitement. His grin was wide, carefree.

My brow furrowed slightly, not in confusion but in thought. I hadn't known Justin had a sister. Or that he used to play sports. Or much of anything, really. He didn't talk about himself.

My gaze lingered for a few seconds more, then I turned quietly and stepped out toward the balcony, the faint breeze brushing against my face. I said nothing when Justin returned. Just accepted the coffee with a small nod and sat back down, the images still gently flickering in my mind.

Next Day

Author POV

"You seriously call that a sandwich?" Daisy asked, staring in horror at the monstrosity Andrew had just assembled in the kitchen-two slices of bread drowning in peanut butter, chips stuck in the middle, and, for some reason, a pickle.

Andrew looked up, deadpan. "It's gourmet chaos. You wouldn't understand."

"I wouldn't eat that if I was stranded on a deserted island," she shot back, arms folded.

"Please," he scoffed, taking a proud bite. "You'd beg for it after a day of coconuts and regret."

Daisy snorted. "I'd rather eat sand."

"Well, that explains a lot."

She narrowed her eyes, grabbing a spoon and tossing it at him-not to hurt, just enough to make a point. He dodged it easily, grinning like a victorious kid.

"Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Resorting to weapons now?"

"You insulted my culinary standards," she replied, dramatically offended.

"You don't have culinary standards," he countered, holding up an accusatory finger. "I saw you put ketchup on pasta last week."

"That was one time," she huffed. "And I was experimenting."

"Sure. And the fire alarm was just an 'artistic expression,' huh?"

Daisy picked up a dish towel and flung it at him. It hit his face and fell with a soft plop. He blinked.

"I'm calling the authorities," he said. "This is assault."

"Good. Tell them you were attacked with fabric for crimes against sandwiches."

For a moment, they just stood there, both trying not to laugh, staring each other down with mock intensity.

"I still hate you," Daisy muttered.

"Yeah," Andrew said, turning back to his sandwich. "Hate you more."

But the grin that tugged at the corners of their mouths said otherwise.

💘

"People have five levels of needs-starting from basic ones like food and safety, upto self-fullfilment. In the workplace, if lower level needs aren't met, higher levels don't matter as much."

Sarah sat comfortably, listening carefully to every word of the professor.

Though it was the fourth lecture of the day, she didn't feel even an ounce of tiredness or fatigue. Half of her classmates were already slumping and leaning on to their desks lazily.

Her attention was completely on the smart board and the professor. Yet, she felt a pair of eyes on herself. Those eyes flickered towards her, time to time.

Liam sat two rows behind, pretending to take notes but failing miserably. His pen hovered uselessly over his notebook, his eyes betraying him every few minutes as they flickered toward Sarah.

He knew he shouldn't stare. He knew it was obvious. But something about the way she listened–so focused, so present–made it impossible to look away.

Her hair was tied up in a loose ponytail, a few strands slipping free and catching the glow of the projector light. Every now and then, she tilted her head slightly, just enough to make Liam's heart stumble in his chest.

He shook his head, trying to force his gaze back to the professor. Maslow's hierarchy, five levels, something about motivation... but all Liam could think of was how Sarah's handwriting looked when she scribbled her notes, or the quiet way she tapped her pen against the desk when deep in thought.

Then, for just a fleeting second, Sarah turned her head-maybe to stretch, maybe for no reason at all–and her eyes met his. Briefly. Questioningly.

Liam's breath hitched. He looked away too fast. Too obvious.

He mentally cursed himself.

"Smooth, idiot," he muttered under his breath, flipping a blank page in his notebook just to feel like he was doing something.

💘

Katherine tugged at Ryan's sleeve, dragging her feet with exaggerated frustration as they strolled through the university courtyard. Her face was scrunched into a pout, her eyebrows knitted, and her voice came out in a dramatic sigh.

"Everything feels like trash," she grumbled. "My back hurts, I'm bloated, my emotions are on a rollercoaster, and the vending machine ran out of chocolate. Ryan, this is a crisis."

He looked over at her, lips twitching in amusement. "Do you want to sit for a while?"

"No," she said, stopping in the middle of the path. "I want to dance."

He blinked. "You want to what..?"

"Dance. With you. Right now. To Senorita."

Ryan looked around, half expecting a hidden camera crew to pop out and confirm he was being pranked. Students were milling about, heading to classes, chatting, scrolling on their phones. Definitely not the place for spontaneous dance requests.

"We're in the middle of the campus," he reminded her gently. "You want us to go viral on someone's Instagram story?"

Katherine crossed her arms, lower lip jutting out stubbornly. "You said you'd support me through my period madness."

"I did," he replied, holding up his hands. "And I am. I'm just saying, let's not make it into a flash mob."

She huffed and kept walking, muttering under her breath about how useless men were during crises. Ryan followed beside her, pretending to be unaffected, though he couldn't help but smile at how expressive she got when she wasn't feeling her best.

Then, just as they were about to round the corner back to the main building, Ryan gently reached for her wrist and pulled her toward a hallway instead.

"Where are we going?" she asked, eyes narrowing, confused but not resisting.

"You wanted a dance, didn't you?" he said over his shoulder, a quiet mischief in his voice.

Down the hallway, he pushed open the door of an empty classroom and motioned for her to step inside. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows, casting warm pools of light across the floor. The room was silent except for the low hum of air conditioning.

Ryan pulled out his phone, quickly scrolled through his playlist, and within seconds, the familiar beat of Senorita began to play.

Katherine blinked, her expression softening as he extended his hand. "I believe you requested this song, ma'am?"

She laughed, genuinely this time, and took his hand without hesitation.

There, surrounded by empty desks and chalkboard scribbles, they danced—no choreography, no pressure. Just soft sways, quiet steps, and playful spins. He twirled her once, and she laughed too loud. She stepped on his foot, and he pretended to be mortally wounded. But in those few minutes, nothing else mattered-not her cramps, not the lectures, not the world outside that door.

"You're ridiculous," she whispered against his shoulder as the music faded.

"And you're impossible," he replied, smiling.

But neither of them let go.

Not just yet.

💘

So, did you like the little accidental touch between Amelia and Justin? And Amelia is definitely going to know more about Justin's life, his family and his past... Well, you'll also get to know everything in detail, let's not worry about that. And also let me know in the comments about our other couples-Sarah and Liam, Ryan and Katherine, Andrew and Daisy... Oh sorry, Andrew and Daisy aren't a couple yet, they are still our children, hehe.

Please vote and comment if you liked this chapter. The new chapter will be updated soon. Take care, cuties 💙

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