She doesn't step back. Doesn't pull away from where my fingers linger against the curve of her cheek, still warm from the touch that just happened, from the streak of flour I brushed away. The space between us hums. Electric. Alive with all the words we're not saying, all the wants we're not naming.
"Grath." My name in her mouth sounds like a prayer and a warning tangled together. Breathless. Uncertain. Her pulse flutters visible at the base of her throat, a frantic rhythm I can't stop watching.
"Yeah?" My voice comes out rougher. Lower. The single syllable feels weighted with every truth I'm trying not to speak.
Her lips part. I watch the struggle play across her face, want battling sense, heat fighting caution. "We should probably..."
She trails off. Doesn't finish. Maybe because she doesn't know how to end that sentence. Maybe because finishing it means deciding what we are, what this is, what happens next.
The bell above the door shatters the moment. Bright and cheerful and utterly merciless.
We spring apart like we've been burned. Like we're sixteen and caught in a dark corner at a school dance. Guilty. Flushed. My hand drops back to my side and the loss of contact feels like amputation.
Nora strides through the doorway. Stops. Takes in the scene with one sweeping glance: Maris pink-cheeked and breathless, me standing too rigid, the space between us still crackling with interrupted something.
A slow, wicked grin spreads across Nora's face. The kind of grin that says she knows exactly what she walked in on and plans to enjoy every second of it.
"Am I interrupting something?" Pure innocence in her tone. Except for the gleam in her eyes that screams anything but.
"No," Maris says. Too fast. Too high. "Just. Planning. The fundraiser. For the thing. The community thing."
"Uh huh." Nora's grin widens. "I saw the forum post. Came to check on you both. Looks like you're handling it well."
Maris straightens. Professional mask sliding back into place. "We're fighting it. Hosting an event this weekend. Proving community support."
"Smart. I'll help. Spread the word, donate supplies, whatever you need."
"Really?"
"Of course. You're my best friend. And Grath's—" She pauses. Eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well. Grath's Grath. Can't let Vance win."
The tightness in me eases. Just slightly.
Maybe Maris is right. Maybe people will surprise me.
Maybe I won't have to fight this alone.
"Thank you," I say to Nora.
She waves it off. "Don't get mushy on me, big guy. Save it for the fundraiser. You'll need all the charm you can muster."
Maris snorts. "We're working on that. It's a process."
"I offered to talk about the weather," I say. "She said no."
Nora laughs. Full-bodied. Delighted. "Oh this is going to be fantastic. I can't wait."
Neither can I.
Terrified. Determined. Ready to prove I belong here.
Even if I have to learn to smile without looking like I want to eat someone first.
CHAPTER 5
MARIS
The choir collapses at seven forty-three.
