Connor noticed.
“Habit?” he asked gently.
“Tonight,” I said, and only realized after that it sounded like an invitation and a confession all at once.
He nodded once. No judgment. No comment.
The overhead light was too bright. I crossed the room and turned on the lamp instead, letting the space fall into soft shadows. Pale walls, uneven floors, the window reflecting us back at ourselves—two figures standing too close, pretending not to notice how the air vibrated between them.
I gestured toward the chair. “Sit. Let me see your arm.”
“It’s nothing,” he said automatically.
“Sit,” I repeated.
Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe. Or approval. Then he obeyed.
I crouched in front of him, carefully unbuttoning his coat, sliding it off his shoulders. My fingers brushed his wrist, then his forearm, and my breath caught at the warmth of his skin.
This wasn’t accidental.
I was aware of every choice I was making.
The cut was shallow but angry-looking, red against his skin. I went to the sink, grabbed a cloth, dampened it. When I knelt again, his knees were spread just slightly, and I hated myself for noticing.
I pressed the cloth to his arm.
He sucked in a breath.
“Sorry,” I murmured.
“Don’t be.”
His voice was low. Steady. Controlled in a way that felt like a hand at the base of my spine.
I cleaned the cut carefully, aware of how close I was—my shoulder nearly brushing his thigh, my hair falling forward. Itucked it behind my ear with one finger, and when I looked up, he was watching me like I was something he didn’t trust himself to touch.
The silence stretched.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I said quietly. “Out there.”
“Yes,” he said.
The word landed heavy.
I wrapped the cut, my fingers lingering longer than necessary, then sat back on my heels. The shift brought my face level with his chest. I could smell him—clean, dark, something underneath that felt dangerous in a way my body responded to without permission.
I stood too quickly.
Distance felt safer.
Except it didn’t.
I paced once, then stopped near the desk where my camera sat. My heart hammered as if I’d been running again, even though I’d barely moved.
“This—” I started, then stopped. “Tonight doesn’t feel real.”
Connor stood slowly, like he didn’t want to spook me. “It was real.”
