Soft and unsteady in a way I’d never heard from him before.
His nose brushed mine.
And for one suspended, weightless moment —
I thought.
This is it.
This is finally it.
• • •
Then he stopped.
Pulled back a fraction.
Not far.
Just enough.
He looked at me for a long moment without saying anything.
Something in his expression I couldn’t read — something complicated and wanting and afraid all at once.
Then he looked back at the screen.
His hand stayed in mine.
He didn’t let go.
And I didn’t either.
• • •
He stayed until I fell asleep.
For once.
When I woke in the night he was still there, on top of the covers, one hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
I didn’t say anything.
I just watched him exist in the dark for a little while.
Like something I was memorizing.
Like I already knew it was temporary.
Like I could hear his thoughts.
• • •
He was gone by morning.
But this time — this time he left the window open for us. And I tried not to think about what that meant.
CHAPTER TEN
