“NowI’mstuck, and you’re still stalling,” I point out.
Andrew peeks around the shelf.
“Ain’t stallin’.
“Just workin’ up the dialogue to end this shit.
“Didn't click the first time.
“I’m tellin' you—girl hears what she wants.”
He looks down at me,
then around the shelf again.
“Didn’t mean to snatch your hand like that, but you gave it to me earlier, and well, now I’m attached. That one’s on you.”
“Andrew?!” Elle calls again?—
“Jesus Christ, we're gonna be late!
“Do I gotta come drag you?”
I clear my throat. “You can touch my hand.”
My hand.
My fuckinghand.
Like it’s special.
Like it means something.
The sentence leaves me quiet.
But he still catches it.
His gaze slams back into me,
and everything breaks open.
“Yeah?”
I nod. But my breath won’t calm down.
Because I want him.
And I don’t trust wanting anything.
Then his warm fingers find mine at my side,
dragging over my knuckles slow.
His chest rises, taking a deep breath.
Mine follows like it’s tied to him.
My heart?
