Her stomach fluttered.
Professional, she reminded herself.
Just work.
He approached slowly.
Sat in her chair.
Met her eyes in the mirror.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
"How are you?"
"Good. You?"
"Good."
Awkward.
Stilted.
Nothing like how they usually were.
She started his skin prep.
Hands steady despite her racing heart.
He closed his eyes.
Let her work.
The room around them buzzed with activity.
Other stylists. Other members.
Manager Park barking orders.
Normal chaos.
But in their little bubble—
Just them.
Her hands on his face.
His breathing slow and even.
The familiar routine.
She'd done his makeup hundreds of times.
But this felt different.
Charged.
Every touch deliberate.
Every movement careful.
"You're tense," he said quietly.
Eyes still closed.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
"I'm working. I'm always focused when I work."
"This is different."
She didn't respond.
Just continued.
Foundation. Concealer.
