Regular Gracie would roll her eyes. Make some dry, sarcastic comment about how nice it is to know chivalry isn’t dead after all.
But I’m not regular Gracie. Not right now.
I’m a new, different me, and this Gracie has no idea how to act.
We take off our coats and set them on the small kitchen table by the door. I have a second to appreciate that Beck doesn’t have any roommates. No one to witness how we clear our throats and stare at our feet, like we’re suddenly strangers.
“Um, you can…make yourself comfortable,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward the living room as he walks to the kitchen. “Want a drink?” he calls over his shoulder.
I glance toward the living room like he suggested but don’t go that direction. Instead, I follow him into the kitchen. The entire time I’m thinking about how if I misread this situation, if I step forward and he steps back, there’s no pretending after. No going back to how things were.
“Maybe a water,” I tell him.
He gets me a glass and one for himself. The water is cool and soothing as it slides down my throat. I hadn’t realized how thirsty all those beers made me, but I don’t feel drunk.
I feel awake. Alive.
Every nerve humming.
Beck watches me out of the corner of his eye, like I’m too bright to stare at directly.
I wait.
For him to move. For him to close the distance.
He doesn’t. He just stands there, tense and uncertain, hands flexing at his sides.
I think back to prom and almost smile.
Some things never change.
Guess it’s up to me.
I lift my finger to my mouth, chewing lightly on the tip while I think. Beck’s gaze snaps to the movement and stays there.
“Oliver?”
“Yes, Gracie?”
“Have you been working out?”
I take a step closer. His eyes widen, just a fraction. Apprehension. Desire. Both at once.
He swallows. “Uh. Yeah. A little more than usual.”
“I thought so.”
I reach out, tracing one slow fingertip from his shoulder down to his elbow, over the cuff of his sleeve, and onto bare skin.
He shivers. Goosebumps rise instantly.
I school my face into calm as I circle him slowly, like I’m studying something priceless, a statue or a piece of art.
Beck freezes. Holds still. His breathing is shallow, careful, like he’s afraid to disturb the moment.
I trail my finger from the back of his neck down his spine.
“I don’t remember you being so—”
