“Okay?” He sounded surprised, like he expected more resistance and had prepared arguments and counterarguments and maybe a PowerPoint presentation.
“Don’t look so shocked. I’m very friendly.” I moved toward the sink, hip-checking him as I passed. “Move. I’ll wash, you dry.”
He shifted aside, but not far enough. Now we were standing shoulder to shoulder at the counter, close enough that I could feel heat radiating off him. Close enough that when I reached for the faucet, my elbow brushed his arm.
The contact sent a jolt of awareness through me. Every nerve ending in my body suddenly focused on the point where we’d touched. The world shifted for a moment, reality snapping into sharper focus, and I had to grip the edge of the sink to steady myself.
What the hell was that?
“You okay?” His voice was close to my ear, amused. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Fine,” I managed. “Just cold.”
“Liar.” But he didn’t push it, just picked up a towel and positioned himself beside me, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine with every movement.
I turned on the water, started washing, pretended I was fine while being hyperaware of every inch of him.
“So,” he said, beginning to dry the glass I handed him. “Tell me about yourself.”
“That’s vague.”
“Then I’ll be specific.” He set down the dry glass, took another wet one. “What made you want to write?”
I scrubbed at a stubborn wine stain. “Escape, mostly. I had a weird childhood. Books were where I could be someone else. Eventually I figured out I could create those worlds myself.”
“What kind of weird?”
“The dead parents, raised by a godmother, never quite fitting in anywhere kind.” I kept my voice light, like it didn’t still hurt. “Classic orphan backstory. Very Disney.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It made me interesting.” I handed him another glass, and our fingers brushed. Neither of us pulled away quickly. “What about you? What’s your tragic backstory?”
“What makes you think I have one?”
“Everyone does.” I glanced at him sideways. “We’re all traumatized here.”
He laughed, a low, warm sound that made my spine tingle. “Fair point.” He was quiet for a moment, drying the glass. “I have responsibilities. Expectations. My family needs things from me that I’m not always sure I can give. I came here to escape that for a while.”
“To Lysmont? Of all places?”
“Yes. I wasn’t lying when I said I found something interesting here, and I don’t feel like going away right now.”
The way he said it made my stomach flip.
“What caught your attention?” I asked, not looking at him. “The world’s best grocery store? The fascinating parking situation?”
“Something better.” His voice dropped, and I could feel his gaze on the side of my face. “Though the parking situation is riveting.”
I risked a glance. He was already looking at me, his gray eyes dark in the kitchen lighting. I could see myself reflected in them.
“You’re deflecting,” I said.
“So are you.” He held my gaze. “We can both pretend we don’t know what I’m talking about. If that makes you more comfortable.”
My heart was pounding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar,” he said again, softer this time, almost fond. Good gods.
