Breaking the Pattern

The portfolio review was supposed to take thirty minutes. It had been two hours, and Riley Chen still couldn't look away from the woman across the conference table.

Jordan Matthews—the new creative director everyone had been talking about for weeks—sat with one ankle crossed over her knee, her button-up shirt sleeves rolled to reveal forearms that Riley had no business noticing. She had short dark hair with an undercut that Riley's fingers inexplicably wanted to touch, and when she smiled at something in Riley's mockups, her whole face transformed.

"This is really strong work," Jordan said, tapping a design with her pen. "But I think you're playing it safe."

Riley's stomach did something complicated. She'd been with the agency for three years, consistently praised for her clean, professional aesthetic. "Safe" felt like criticism wrapped in compliment paper.

"I deliver what clients want," Riley said, hearing the defensive edge in her voice.

"Do you?" Jordan looked up, and Riley felt pinned by eyes the color of whiskey in sunlight. "Or do you deliver what you think they want before they have a chance to want something more?"

The question hung in the air between them like smoke.

Riley had spent twenty-eight years being exactly what people expected. The dutiful daughter who went to the right college. The girlfriend—three serious relationships, all with nice men her parents approved of—who said yes when she meant maybe. The designer who made beautiful, safe choices.

She looked at Jordan's confident posture, the rainbow flag pin on her laptop bag, the way she took up space without apology, and felt something crack open in her chest.

"I'd like to push you," Jordan said, and Riley's mouth went dry for reasons that had nothing to do with work. "If you're willing."

Riley nodded before she could overthink it. "I'm willing."

Jordan's smile should have been illegal in twelve states. "Good. Let's start over. This time, show me what you'd create if you weren't afraid."

Three weeks later, Riley was spending more time in Jordan's office than her own cubicle. It started professionally enough—brainstorming sessions, design reviews, Jordan teaching her to trust her instincts instead of second-guessing every choice.

But somewhere between the late nights and the easy conversation, something shifted.

Riley noticed things she'd never let herself notice before. The way Jordan's laugh was lower and more genuine when they were alone. How she smelled like cedar and something citrus when she leaned close to point at Riley's screen. The casual way she'd touch Riley's shoulder or back when walking past, leaving warmth in her wake.

"You're staring again," her best friend Mia sa...