“What are you doing?” He’s towering above me from where I sit, and I feel very small despite my above average height.
Tieran puts an arm on each side of me. “You’re getting confused because you’re holding your hands wrong. When you watch Charlie, you’re seeing the inverse. This is how you need to be holding the hook and looping the yarn.”
He cups each of his hands around mine, placing my fingers in the correct positions, showing me how to best loop the thick thread.
I’m trying my best to concentrate, but the warmth of his chest is soaking through my blouse, making it hard to focus.
“Now try it on your own.”
It takes me a couple more tries with his gentle instruction before I finally get one down on my own.
“Good. Give me another one.” His voice is low in my ear, and it makes shivers skate up and down my spine.
I complete another few sequences of stitches, and before I know it, I have a whole row.
A self-congratulatory smile crosses my face. “I did it.” I look up at him towering over me, a humorous expression on his face. ‘Why was that so hard? I’ve been less angry in a conference room full of men who tried to explainmyfield to me.”
“Now do another fifteen rows, and you’ll have finished your piece,” he says.
I look from him, down to my single row of knots, and then trail my eyes back up, glancing over his torso until I meet his eyes. “Do I have to?” I whisper.
He tosses his head back, neck elongating and showing off the tattoo just below his ear, and barks out a laugh. “No, we can go. Class is about over anyway.”
Tieran runs over to say goodbye to his sister, and I try not to get stuck on theweso casually thrown around.
A few minutes later, we’re walking down the street toward the tube station in silence. When we make it to the entrance, I turn to say goodbye.
“Let me drive you home,” Tieran blurts out.
“That’s not necessary.” I try my best to keep my voice stable—strong. I can’t let him see that my resolve is weakening with each quippy retort and knee-weakening smile.
“The tube really isn’t safe at night. You should let me drive you.”
“I spent a couple years in New York City. I’m pretty sure if I can handle a man called The L Train Lunatic chasing down extra terrestrials at the 8thAve station, I can handle a university student named James who’s a little drunk.” I turn, ready to take the steps two at a time to get away.
Tieran’s hand shoots out and grabs mine, stopping my attempt to flee. “Please,” he hesitates, still holding onto my hand, “I know you can handle yourself but—please. Let me see you home safely.”
The earnest look in his cerulean eyes has me folding like a lawn chair embarrassingly fast. I vow to build a stronger backbone…starting tomorrow.
“Fine.”
Twenty minutes into the drive home, I finally break the bizarre silence.
“What kind of dog do you have?”
He seems surprised by the question but recovers quickly. “Blue Staffy. She’s my own tiny happy hippo.”
I want to throat punch him for becoming even more charming.
“What’s her name?”
“Pebble.”
“Pebble?”
“Yes.” He keeps his eyes on the road, following the instructions coming from the GPS on his phone and pulling up to park outside my building.
Facing him, I ask the question on the tip of my tongue, the one that threatens to undo me because it’s too goddamn endearing. “Your dog’s name is…Pebble Stone?”
