“This doesn’t bother you?” I asked, nodding toward the room.
His jaw tightened briefly. “No.”
“Does it … affect you?”
His gaze returned to me, darker now. “Everything affects me.”
The honesty of it landed hard.
We fell silent again.
Watching together felt different than watching alone. More intimate. Like a shared secret.
I became acutely aware of how close he was. Of the fact that if I moved my hand even an inch, I’d touch him. Of the way his attention never drifted far from me, even as he tracked the room.
“You look like you’re trying not to think,” he said.
I huffed softly. “I look like that?”
“Yes.”
“Is it working?”
“No.”
I smiled despite myself.
His gaze dropped to my mouth. Stayed there a fraction too long.
The space between us thickened.
“I didn’t think places like this actually existed,” I admitted quietly.
“They do,” he said. “Usually for people who’ve already decided what they want.”
“And you?” I asked. “Have you decided?”
His eyes lifted back to mine.
“Yes.”
The word landed between us like a held breath.
I didn’t ask what he meant.
I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer yet.
A couple nearby shifted, drawing our attention. A woman’s soft laugh. A man’s low murmur. The sound of skin against skin.
My body responded before my mind could stop it. Heat. Awareness. A subtle ache that startled me with its intensity.
Connor noticed.
Of course, he did.
His hand moved—not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the heat of it through the air.
“If you want to leave,” he said softly, “we can.”
