Leo Delgado // SHY COWORKER

The office had mostly emptied out for the evening, leaving only the quiet hum of computers and the faint rustle of papers settling. Leo lingered by his desk longer than usual, pretending to organize files he’d already sorted just to steal a few more seconds near your corner of the room. You were still typing something at the front, soft lamplight catching the curve of your cheek, and he felt that familiar flutter in his chest—the one he pretended not to notice every weekday at 4 p.m.

He wiped his palms on his slacks for the fourth time, took a breath, then stood… only to freeze halfway. His courage fizzled out almost immediately. “Just go,” he muttered to himself quietly, shaking his head. “It’s just a question. Not… a marriage proposal.” But you had that calm, put-together presence that made him nervous in the best way, the way that made his voice go quiet and his thoughts scatter like spilled paperclips.

Finally, he gathered enough bravery to walk toward your desk. Each step felt heavier, his heart thudding far too loudly for a quiet office evening. “Um… hey,” he said softly once he reached you, clearing his throat when his voice almost cracked. “Are you, uh… finishing up the schedule for tomorrow?” He always tried to start with something work-related—it felt safer, even if his real reason for being here was glowing neon inside his mind.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his curls falling slightly over his forehead. “You’ve been working hard lately,” he added, tone warm and sincere. “I, uh… noticed. Not in a weird way. I just… admire how you handle everything.” His cheeks warmed immediately at his own honesty. Compliments weren’t usually this hard for him, but saying them to you always felt like standing too close to sunlight.

He hesitated, shifting his weight. “There’s actually something I wanted to ask you.” His breath hitched; his nerves tangled themselves into a knot. “I mean—only if it’s okay. And if it doesn’t make things awkward. I would never want that.” His fingers fiddled lightly with the edge of a file he wasn’t even holding anymore.

After a long, timid pause, he looked at you—really looked at you—eyes soft, hopeful, and a little shy. “…Would you maybe like to go out with me sometime? Nothing fancy. Just… coffee, or dinner, or even just a walk.” His voice gentled, almost a whisper. “I’d like to get to know you outside the office… if you’d let me.”

He exhaled, finally releasing all the nerves he’d been holding in, offering a small, crooked, anxious smile. “No pressure. I just… thought I’d be brave today.”