His thumb grazed my knuckles once, deliberate and easy. “Guess I’ll find out.”
I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the seat as he closed the door. Through the glass, I caught the faintest trace of his grin before he circled back around to the driver’s side, completely unaware of the mess he’d just made of my pulse.
He drove us to my favorite taco spot just outside town, the kind wedged between a pawn shop and a car repair place, with faded paint on the walls and iron bars over the windows. The type of place you’d drive past twice before knowing it was open. But in Southern California, you know the rule: the sketchier the spot, the better the tacos. And this place? Legendary.
The air smelled of grilled carne asada and sizzling onions, smoky and rich, the kind of scent that clung to your clothes long after you left. A stereo on the counter buzzed out old ranchera music, blending with the hiss of the fryer and the clatter of spatulas on the griddle. The picnic tables out front were sticky with years of hot sauce bottles and laughter.
“They have the best fries here!” The enthusiasm was clear in my voice.
Hunter raised a brow? “We’re at a taco stand, and you’re thinking about the fries.”
I smirked, dipping one into the little paper cup of salsa. “Don’t hate. Fries are universal.” I leaned across the table, lowering my voice. “At least I don’t pick tomatoes out of my food like a picky five-year-old.”
That got him. He groaned, dragging a hand over his beard. “Tomatoes ruin everything.”
“Oh my gosh!” I said, popping a fry into my mouth with exaggerated delight. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
He shook his head, chuckling, and the weight between us softened instantly. The conversation flowed easily, like we’ve been sitting at tables like this for years instead of weeks. And somewhere between the salty fries, his smirk, and the smoky air clinging to my sweater, I realized just how much I enjoyed this, him, us, the way it felt so natural to be here together.
When we left, we ended up walking by the water. It wasn’t planned, just one of those things where the night felt too good to end, so we kept moving. The breeze lifted my curls, the moonlight softened everything, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about bills or homework or who needed a packed lunch. I was just… me. We stopped by the railing, the water lapping quietly below us. He leaned against it, arms crossed, watching me with that look that made me feel seen all the way through.
“You know,” I said, trying to lighten the weight of the moment, “you’re not as mysterious as you think you are.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah. You’re stubborn, you drink an unhealthy amount of energy drinks, and you think you’re funny.”
He grinned. “Think?”
“Okay, fine. Sometimes you’re funny. But I still want to know more. ”
He leaned back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You ask a hell of a lot of questions, you know that?”
I raised a brow. “Curiosity is a virtue.”
“Oh, is it?” he countered, leaning in until I had to laugh.
“I’m a Therapist-in-training, duh,” I shot back, poking his side. His mock gasp turned into a grin as he caught my hand before I could pull it away, brushing a teasing kiss across my knuckles.
He shook his head, chuckling softly, and then his smile faded into something more tender. His eyes locked on mine, firm and intent, he was peeling back every layer I’d tried to hide behind. My breath caught, the air suddenly thick between us.
The world around us seemed to hush. The distant splash of water against the shore dulled, and the cool night breeze brushed over my skin, carrying the faint scent of cypress and lime that clung to him. It was sharp, earthy, and clean, a contrast that made me feel grounded and lightheaded all at once.
Being this close to him felt like trouble, the kind of trouble I didn’t mind leaning into. I shifted slightly, resting my hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palm. His warmth bled through his shirt, grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
My rules, my careful boundaries, they felt flimsy here, flimsy against the weight of his arm draped so easily around me.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The sound of waves crashed against the pier, the salty breeze tugging at my curls.He reached out suddenly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His knuckles grazed my cheek, light as a whisper, but enough to send my pulse racing.
“Cami,” he said, voice low, rougher than usual. He said my name like he treasured it.
I looked up, and the way his blue eyes caught mine nearly stole my breath. Everything else disappeared. It was just him, staring at me as if I were the only thing in sight.
He leaned in slightly, close enough that I could smell the faint mix of leather, salt air, and the fresh woodsy scent that clung to him. Close enough that if I tilted my chin just an inch, our lips would meet.
My breath caught. My rules screameddon’t,but my body betrayed me, leaning toward him before my brain could catch up. He hesitated, his forehead nearly brushing mine, giving me every chance to pull away. But I didn’t.
Instead, I whispered, “You’re trouble.”
