"This is probably a terrible idea," I say.
"Definitely."
"We're business partners. Sort of. I'm your program liaison. There are probably rules."
"Several rules."
"And the timing is awful. The festival. Blair. The grant review."
"Truly the worst timing."
"So we should stop."
"Absolutely should stop."
Neither of us moves.
"I don't want to stop," I whisper.
"Me neither."
He kisses me again. Slower this time. Deliberate. His hand slides from my jaw to the back of my neck. Fingers spreading. Holding me like I'm precious.
I make an embarrassing sound into his mouth. He swallows it. Angles his head for better access. The kiss turns hungry. Desperate. Like we're both trying to prove something to each other through touch alone.
When we step back again, I'm halfway in his lap. Not sure how that happened. His hands bracket my hips. Steadying. Not presuming.
"Come over tonight," I blurt.
His eyes go wide. "Tonight?"
"After we finish this. Come over. We can order takeout and talk and figure out what this is."
"What if what this is, is a complication we can't afford right now?"
"Then we'll figure that out too." I cup his face. Feel the slight scrape of stubble under my palms. "But I want to know. I want to try. Do you?"
He searches my face again. Whatever he finds there makes something settle in his expression.
"Yes."
"Okay then."
"Okay."
We grin at each other like idiots. Then I extract myself from his lap because if I don't, we'll never get this display finished.
"Right." I clear my throat. "Festival display. Cohesive visual story. Bridge metaphor."
"Bridge metaphor," he echoes. Still looking slightly dazed.
I pick up the green linen. Hold it against the poster board options.
"What if we arrange it chronologically? Your journey from the settlement to here. Show the evolution. Traditional to fusion to whatever comes next."
He blinks. Focuses. His brain clearly rebooting.
"A timeline," he says slowly.
