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She exhales sharply.
“Do you have anything else in your vocabulary?” she snaps.
“Yeah,” I reply. “But you wouldn’t like it.”
She turns back to me.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
“Try me.”
Careful.
That’s a dangerous invitation.
Especially right now.
Especially when I’m already thinking about the way she just felt in my arms.
The way she still does.
I step closer.
Slow.
Deliberate.
She doesn’t move.
Doesn’t step back.
Doesn’t stop me.
Also dangerous.
“Not a great idea,” I say quietly.
“Since when do you care about great ideas?” she fires back.
Fair point.
A beat.
Then—
“I don’t,” I admit.
Her breath catches.
There it is.
That shift again.
That pull.
That thing neither of us is fighting very hard anymore.
