The whole time, my hands were steady, but my heart?
My heart was doing somersaults.
Eleanor waited beside the car, arms wrapped around herself against the cooling air, light from the lone street light catching in her hair like embers.
I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Any of it.
Her kiss.
Her wanting me.
Her asking me to come home with her.
It had been a long time since I’d been with anyone. A long time since anything felt simple or natural or . . . possible And God, I wanted it.
I wantedher.
We got into the car, and the moment I started driving, the silence settled warm and electric between us. Nothing tight or anxious, just charged. Like the air right before a summer storm.
I kept my eyes on the road longer than necessary, trying not to stare, trying not to let my brain run too far ahead.
But then I risked a glance.
She was looking out the window, cheeks flushed, lips still a little swollen. Then she turned toward me with just a small movement and gave me a shy, soft smile.
Then she lifted her hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
And I swear to god, that tiny gesture just about ruined me.
How could something so small hit so hard?
Because it was her.
Because everything she did felt like it vibrated straight through me.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, a helpless laugh pushing up in my throat.
I am done for.
It hit me in a flash. The realization, sudden and solid, that I was already wrapped around her finger. Completely. Hopelessly. Happily.
She had no idea.
And honestly? I wasn’t sure I wanted her to.
Not yet.
I just wanted this moment, this impossible, unbelievable moment, with her beside me, my hand resting lightly on her knee, the air humming between us, the road stretching ahead like the beginning of something big.
We turned onto her street, my pulse kicking up another notch.
She exhaled softly, smoothing her hands on her thighs.
“I’m . . . a little nervous,” she said.
I glanced at her again. “Me too.”
