“See?” she says. “This is exactly why I shouldn’t have let myself believe in any of it.”
I freeze.
“Any of what?”
She hesitates. Just a beat too long.
“Nothing.”
I don’t let it go.
“You don’t get to say nothing when your hands are shaking.”
She glares. “You don’t get to notice that.”
I reach up, fingers wrapping around her wrist, stopping the movement. Gentle. Firm.
“I get to notice everything,” I say. “I’ve been noticing you since we were sixteen.”
Her breath stutters.
“Let go.”
I don’t.
“Tell me what you want,” I say quietly.
Her voice drops. “I want you to stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re about to take something that isn’t yours.”
I step even closer.
“There’s nothing about you I haven’t wanted for years,” I say. “That doesn’t mean I’d ever take it without you asking.”
Her throat works.
“Dax…”
“That’s not a no.”
She yanks her wrist free. “This is why I didn’t want to decorate with you.”
“Because you can’t lie to yourself when I’m this close?”
She flinches.
“That’s not fair,” she whispers.
I soften just enough not to break her. “Neither is pretending you don’t feel this.”
She shakes her head, eyes shining. “You don’t know what I feel.”
“I know you don’t want to be alone tonight.”
The words hit harder than I mean them to.
