But when my gaze drifts back to him,
his blush is immediate.
Creeping.
Blooming.
Spreading.
A sunrise crawling up his throat.
My shoulders relax, giving up and giving in.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
His gaze quickly sweeps the store,
checking for exits,
or witnesses.
Then his eyes are back on me.
And he stares.
And stares.
He opens his mouth again.
But no words make it out.
Only the wide-eyed, blinking silence.
And a half-laugh,
as if he’s two steps behind himself.
Then finally?—
“Jesus, sorry, uh… Andrew. I think.”
He scrubs a hand over his smile. “You?”
“Allison.”
He fights a grin. “Allison.”
Then his eyes fall from mine,
to the chair,
then back to mine.
He holds out his hand.
“Wanna come up here with me?”
It’s something fierce pulling us together,
