"Perfect. We met there a few times. Just talking. Catching up."
"And then it turned into more."
"Right. But we're taking it slow."
"Why?"
Riley looked up again. "Because we have history. Because we don't want to rush anything. Because—" She stopped.
"Because we don't want to get hurt again," Grant finished quietly. He cleared his throat and spoke with more confidence. “We’re older now.”
Something flickered across Riley's face. "Yeah. That."
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken things pressing down.
"Physical contact," Grant said, breaking the tension.
Riley nearly spilled her coffee. "What?"
"We talked about it last night. We need to figure out what's comfortable."
"Right. Comfortable." She set down her mug, hands twisting in her lap. "So. Hand holding?"
"Yeah. That makes sense."
"Arm around the waist?"
"Probably."
"Shoulder?"
"Sure."
"Kissing?"
Grant's brain short-circuited. "What?"
Riley's face was bright red now. "I mean—people might expect it. If we're dating. But we don't have to if it's?—"
"Only if it helps the illusion," Grant said, his voice rougher than he intended.
"Right. The illusion."
"And only if you're okay with it."
"I'm okay with it if you're okay with it."
"I'm okay with it."
"Okay."
They stared at each other across the table, both clearly not okay with any of this.
Riley cleared her throat. "Should we—I don't know—practice?"
Grant's heart slammed against his ribs. "Practice?"
"Not kissing! Just—the other stuff. So it looks natural. So we don't freeze up when everyone's watching."
