“He lives at your place,” he notes smugly.
“He lives at your place too,” I counter.
“He was here before I moved in.”
“Then you live in his place.” I grin, enjoying the lightness that’s slowly returning between us.
Jericho freezes mid-sip and lifts his head. “S’pose I do.”
Hiding my smile, I get a cup for myself to make myself busy. I feel awkward just standing here and gawking at him.
“You sleep?” I ask quietly, trying carefully to touch base about yesterday.
He shrugs. “Enough.”
“You didn’t punch a wall or anything, did you?” I say as a joke, even though we both know it’s not.
He snorts. “No. Tempted though.”
I nod. “Me too.”
“You too what?” he asks with a curiously quirked brow.
“Was tempted to punch the wall.”
He watches me for a few moments before he starts chuckling.
“What?” I ask when his giggling starts playing on my nerves. I mean, I’m all for laughing, but together. “What?” I repeat in a more annoyed tone when he doesn’t answer right away.
He pushes away from the counter and walks up to me.
“You, Nora Moon,” he starts, gently touching my chin with his thumb, “are not capable of any kind of violence.”
“You haven’t seen me mad,” I whisper back, dumbfounded that he’s figured me out in such a short amount of time when the majority of people in my life haven’t after years of knowing me.
“I have,” he says softly. His eyes move between mine for a few short moments before dipping to my lips. “And you were graceful.”
The sudden sting behind my eyes makes my vision blurry, and the pressure on my chest makes it hard to breathe. I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but graceful was never one of them.
After another long pause of us just watching each other, he says, “I meant what I said.”
Somehow, I know exactly what he’s talking about.
“Are you sure?” The loud insecurity in my own voice makes me hate myself.
“Never been so sure in my life.” His thumb moves to my mouth and gently pushes on my lower lip. “Never.” His attention is focused on my mouth, and when my tongue peeks out to lick my suddenly dry lips, his does the same.
“I’m not trying to mess this up,” he says, voice low and gruff. Like something is preventing him from speaking clearly. “I just… I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”
“What kind of thing?” I ask on a whisper while trying very hard not to suck his digit into my mouth. And it’s a real battle.
“This.” He drops his head, taking a small step backward. “Whatever’s going on. I don’t know the right steps.”
“There aren’t any steps,” I say. “Right or wrong.”
He looks skeptical. “People don’t usually like when things are not done the right way.”
“I’m not people.” I smile, feeling the confidence returning to my voice. “I’m the granddaughter of the Moon, remember?”
