Font Size:
Careful.
Slower than I expect.
His fingers brush my temple, wiping away dried blood.
And—
That was a mistake.
Not his touch.
The way my body reacts to it.
Warm.
Steady.
Gentle.
No.
Nope.
We are not doing that.
Focus.
“Head injury?” he asks quietly.
“Just a hit,” I say. “I’ve had worse.”
“You’ve said that.”
“Because it’s true.”
His eyes flick to mine.
Search.
Assess.
Too perceptive.
I look away first.
Because if I don’t—
I might lean into his hand.
And that would be a very bad decision.
“…this is definitely a test…” I whisper under my breath.
“What was that?” he asks again.
“Nothing.”
“Seems like a pattern.”
