Watching.
Still wondering what his hands would feel like on my skin.
And the worst part?
I want to find out.
Which is ridiculous, because since Keith and I slept together, he hasn’t touched me at all.
I shake that thought away.
Aunt Miranda flits past, giving me her signaturemove iteyes and a pointed glance toward another waving table.
Any breakdowns or emotional revelations will have to wait.
My shift isn’t over.
And whatever’s happening with Hunter Holloway?
It’s not a real crush.
It’s proximity. It’s biology. It’s... nerves.
But the way his forearm flexed when he leaned on the table?
Yeah.
I pretend not to notice how my thighs clenched.
“Hey, Faith,” a voice calls from behind me.
I turn, startled.
One of the high schoolers bussing tables peers at me with wide eyes.
“Did table eighteen ever get their fish dinner?”
I blink.
Right.
The damn fish dinner.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Crisis averted.”
Barely.
3
HUNTER
Iwasn’t planning to come here tonight.
And I sure as hell didn’t come to see her.
That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
But then she walked up to the table—pad in hand, eyes tired, hair pulled back like she was barely holding it together—and everything I’d been telling myself?
