“Oh,” I said, brilliant as always.
He winced. “That’s exactly what I was afraid you’d say.”
“I didn’t mean it like—” I stopped, then started again. “I don’t think less of you.”
“Good,” he said quietly. “Because I just … needed you to know.”
My body hummed with awareness, my skin suddenly too tight again.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either,” I admitted.
His eyes darkened.
The space between us vanished—not physically, not yet—but the tension coiled tight, undeniable. His hand rested on the sofa cushion between us, close enough that I could feel the heat of it.
“Joy,” he said, my name heavy on his tongue.
“Yes?”
“I’m trying very hard not to touch you.”
My breath stuttered.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because if I start,” he said, voice rough, “I don’t know that I’ll stop.”
Something inside me opened at that. Not fear, but recognition.
He leaned in, just slightly. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes. Close enough that the air between us felt charged, alive.
We didn’t kiss.
We didn’t touch.
But the moment stretched, taut and trembling, and I knew—deep in my bones—that it was only a matter of time.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to wait.
Then I laughed—soft, breathless, a little unsteady. “We should probably … actually talk,” I said, though my body clearly disagreed with that plan.
He huffed a quiet sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Yeah. Probably.”
We both stayed exactly where we were.
“I don’t even know your name,” I said finally, the absurdity of that hitting me all at once. “Which feels … important, given everything you just told me.”
His mouth tilted slightly. Not quite a smile. “Micah.”
The name landed low and heavy in my chest. It fit him in a way that felt unfair.
“I’m Joy,” I said, even though he already knew that.
“I know,” he replied. And the way he said it—like my name already meant something to him—sent a shiver through me.
I wrapped both hands around my mug, though the coffee had gone lukewarm. “So,” I said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “What were you doing at Dominion Hall?”
His jaw tightened. Just a fraction. “Job. I think.”
