Page 48 of Tell Me What you Think

That's how it goes until almost five in the afternoon. Olga has been tense for a while because there are only three boxes left and the document still hasn't turned up.

"What are the odds it's in the last ones?" she asks, frustrated, staring at the shelf.

"Don't start, Olga."

But Olga jumps to her feet and positions herself in front of the boxes, cold sweat on the back of her neck and her hands shaking. She thinks about her cousin and wants to wring his neck and—

She goes completely still when she turns at the sense of someone close and finds Marina's body right there. She's right in front of her, almost pressed against her, and then she feels a hand settle on her waist, and she watches as the other one rises and brushes a strand of hair from her face.

Marina holds her eyes steadily and all Olga can hear is the sound of her own pounding heart.

"Look at me," the vice president says quietly.

Olga looks up. They're close enough that she can see the exact point where the scar on her boss's lip begins, and the length of those infuriatingly long lashes.

"What?" she breathes, because Marina's hand is still on her waist and Olga is so tense she can barely breathe.

"Nobody's giving up until we open the last box."

Olga inhales through her nose, and the drug of Marina's perfume floods her veins, but just as she's about to do something stupid, Marina takes a step back, picks up another box — which was why she'd stood up in the first place — and returns to her armchair.

Her pulse was racing and the tips of her fingers were tingling as she started going through the papers inside. She didn't understand what she just did. Nothing justified having moved that close to her, or placing a hand on her waist as if Olga's body belonged to her, let alone brushing that strand of hair away — but Olga was standing there with her shoulders caved in and that lavender scent in her hair, and she felt dizzy when she breathed it in, and by the time she realized, she had pressed herself against her back.

What was she trying to do? Smell her like a dog? She'll never know, because when Olga turned and looked at her with those blown pupils, her brain short-circuited and all that was left inside her was the jolt her heart gave and the sharp knot in her stomach.

She reviews a paper and sets it on the discard pile, but then she blinks and something in the lines she just read flashes through her mind. Marina picks it up again and reads it more carefully than she was a moment ago, and suddenly she feels a drop in her stomach, a kind of vertigo that stretches her lips wide and has her shooting to her feet.

"What's going on?"

Olga stands up too, on instinct, as if Marina has sensed danger and they both need to run — except she doesn't know which way.

"What's wrong? Why are you smiling?"

Marina's eyes are bright with a blue so intense that Olga forgets to breathe.

"I've got it — this is what you're looking for." Her boss shakes it in the air.

"What?" Olga's voice comes out as a sharp squeal, just like the one she let out on the first day she walked into Marina's new office.

"Here, check for yourself."

The vice president hands her the two stapled pages and Olga takes them with shaking hands. She starts reading, and as she does, emotion and relief pour into her. She doesn't finish it — she's already read enough to know it's what she's been looking for — so she sets the paper on the table and when she turns around, she lets out a loud cry and throws herself into Marina's arms without thinking.

She wraps herself around her neck, laughing and crying at the same time, and Marina catches her, staggering back, before wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close while she breathes in the scent of her neck. The hug stretches on without either of them doing anything to end it, until Olga starts thinking that her reaction was too much, that she might be making her boss uncomfortable. She pulls back slowly, but doesn't step away from her body — because Marina is staring at her mouth in a way that sends a desperate, aching pulse beating between her legs.

"Marina—" Her boss's eyes lift and lock onto hers.

They meet each other's gaze. Olga undone by the need she's feeling, Marina trying to find a clearer sign of what she's suspected for a while now.

"What are you thinking, Olga?" she whispers, running the tip of her tongue along the inside of her scarred lip.

Olga opens her mouth. She wants to tell her there are too many things running through her head right now — that she wants to kiss her and doesn't dare because she doesn't want to mess this up and push her away, not now that it feels like she might be getting closer. She also wants to tell her how much she likes her, to finally confess that she's been in love with her for too long and can't take it anymore, but her tongue has gone rigid and heavy, like it's turned to concrete.

"Tell me what you're thinking, please," Marina presses, same low, warm tone as before.

Olga swallows and opens her mouth, but all that comes out is a trembling exhale that leaves Marina uncertain, because she can't tell whether it happened because she wants to kiss her or because she still needs to let out the adrenaline that built up when they found the document. And given that lately she feels like she doesn't understand anything, and that her life has probably been full of signs she never noticed, the last thing she needs right now is to take the wrong step and kiss this woman who seems more lost than she is.

"I should go," she says, stepping back.