Hallie wasmesmerized.
“Can I ask you something?” Even as Hallie said the words, she was smart enough to know that a sentence like that rarely led anywhere good. Or safe.
Definitelynot safe, as doe eyes landed on her, Brynn’s pouty lips forming into an O before she answered, “Anything.” She took a small step toward Hallie as the coffee machine whirred to life again.
Hallie desperately needed to know what was going on in Brynn’s incredibly interesting mind. Because, as with some of their other interactions, if Brynn had been someone Hallie had met on a dating app, there’d have been no doubt in her mind that they were flirting.
And it definitely seemed that she’d just been checked out. Pretty heavy-handedly, too.
Only, thiswasBrynn that they were talking about. And Hallie already knew that Brynn’s brain didn’t work exactly like other people’s. For all Hallie knew, Brynn was trying to make sense of seeing Hallie in sportswear for the first time, when she was generally used to seeing her in loungewear or her work uniform.
It was one of the things that Hallie liked most about her. The constant searching and synthesizing to better understand the world around her. Beyond those impossibly big eyes. And the adorable freckles that dotted her stomach. And the fact that, last night, Hallie had discovered that Brynn’s hair really was just as soft as it looked.
All of those things paled in comparison to watching Brynn watching the world. It would probably take a lifetime to do, but Hallie desperately wanted to understand how Brynn saw things.
Then last night, on top of everything else, Hallie had learned that Brynn, who did come from a life of undeniable privilege, also understood true loss. In a way Hallie couldn’t even begin to fathom.
Knowing more about Brynn was only making her more appealing, not less; it was the exact opposite situation than Hallie usually found herself in with new people.
She felt a hand on her forearm at the same time Brynn questioningly said her name. “Hallie? Are you okay?”
And then, Hallie realized, regretfully, that she didn’t know whether she wanted them to be on the same page about the undeniable attraction that she felt toward Brynn.
She walked over to the fridge to grab the oat milk, also pulling out the container of half-and-half, which she’d started stocking there, too.
If it was Hallie alone in this, then she could put it in a box. Explain it away. Rationalize it so that things didn’t have to change. So that she didn’t have to worry about what would happen if she’d misconstrued everything.
Not that she thought for even a second Brynn would make her feel stupid or hold it against her. But once it was out there, she couldn’t take it back.
Hallie had never been known for her bravery, especially not when it came to pushing headfirst into the face of rejection.
She bit her lip and focused on fixing her coffee, not looking at Brynn. “I wanted to make sure that you’re okay. After last night.” It wasn’t what she’d wanted to say, but it was still the truth.
She’d phrased it purposely so the answer could go in whatever direction Brynn wanted. It was, maybe unfairly on Hallie’s part, very open to interpretation.
But she was a woman on the edge, and she needed all the help she could get right now.
Brynn had moved closer again, and from Hallie’s peripheral, she could see her face scrunching up. Immediately, it cut through Hallie’s lust, so that a softness expanded in her chest.
It was a confounding mix of sensations that she’d been trying to get used to over the last week. It felt like she was on a seesaw that was constantly teetering back and forth. And every time that she thought she’d found a balance, some interaction they had would send her flailing hard in one direction or the other—onlyfor Brynn to right things and slide Hallie right back to the other side.
It was emotional whiplash, and the most exasperating part was that she didn’t even know if Brynn was doing it on purpose!
Take this morning, for instance. They were coming down from the soft moments of last night’s vulnerability, and then Brynn did something like walk out in a towel and unabashedly check Hallie out.
Hallie was going mad. Well and truly mad.
She stiffened her upper lip and her resolve. “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she repeated.
“That’s not a question,” Brynn responded quietly, their arms brushing.
“Are we watchingJeopardy?” Hallie teased lightly, though her hand shook as she tried to pour the oat milk.
Brynn looked at her thoughtfully. “I’m okay. I have that dream a lot, so, really, it’s not a big deal.”
Hallie opened the drawer to her left and took out spoons for both of them before she used hers to stir her coffee. “About your sister?”
Brynn nodded. “She died when I was six. She was eight. Leukemia.”
