“Nothing,” I say, shaking my head. “Just… feels nice.”
He smiles softly. “Yeah?”
I nod, feeling a little breathless, lifting my eyes to meet his. “Will you do it again?”
His grin widens as he leans in, brushing his nose against mine. “You’re so cute.”
His hand slides lower, his fingers spreading wider across the small of my back, pulling me a little closer.
I never thought I’d be here, in Austin’s bed, with his hands on me and his face a few inches away. My breath catches, my skin prickles. I want to memorize this feeling, tuck it away somewhere deep.
He doesn’t say anything else, just keeps rubbing up and down along my spine, watching me for a while.
He tilts his head on the pillow. “I’m gonna be your first customer.”
My eyes flick up. “What?”
“You said you wanted to open a bookstore café.” He pauses. “I’m gonna be the first in line when you do. I’m gonna spend my life savings there, even though I hate reading.”
A soft laugh escapes before I can stop it. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”
He shrugs, lazy and half-asleep. “I might look dumb, but I pay attention.”
My throat tightens. “You’re not dumb.”
His smile softens, a little smaller this time, like he doesn’t quite believe it.
“I’m serious, Austin. You’re not. You just learn differently. And you’ve been trying.”
He doesn’t reply. Just keeps looking at me. His hand drops from my back and lifts slowly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I hold my breath as his fingers trail down, feather-light against my jaw.
Everything inside me tightens when his gaze drops to my mouth.
No.
No, he wouldn’t. Not me.
He’s drunk. He’s flirty. That’s all this is.
But I still close my eyes. Just for a second. Because it’s too much to look at him and not want it to mean something.
The room goes quiet.
His breathing shifts—slower, heavier.
When I open my eyes again, he’s already out, his head tilted toward me.
And I’m still lying there, wide awake, my heart pounding, every part of me buzzing from the memory of his voice in the dark and the way he looked at me.
But I don’t move. I tell myself I’ll stay five more minutes. Just long enough to let my pulse settle. Just long enough to stop memorizing the shape of his mouth.
Five more minutes.
That’s all.
But my eyelids grow heavy. The buzzing in my chest fades into something slower, softer. And by the time my thoughts blur into dreams, I forget I ever meant to leave.
When I wake up, everything’s warm.
