We walk into the aquarium side by side, catching up with Sem, Luke, Mal, and Bree, who are all chatting in the lobby.
“Alright, they made it,” Sem says and slaps Caleb on the back before fist-bumping me. “Where to, Mal?”
Mal lights up like a child on Christmas, his face brightening as we step inside.
We wander through a few exhibits, stopping to look at the colorful sea life through the glass. Soft blues and greens ripple around us as we watch schools of neon fish dart through seaweed and coral. Jellyfishdrift like orbs, their tendrils almost hypnotic. I spend far too much time reading the signs explaining what we’re looking at. Caleb spends far too much time looking at me.
As I lean closer to the glass, Caleb lingers beside me. I feel his gaze on me, his eyes slipping across my body like a caress. It’s warm and deliberate, like he’s running his fingers over my skin.
I can feel his gaze.
I can feel him.
Fuck. The feelings he’s sparked, they aren’t embers anymore. They’re flames, impossible to ignore.
He steps back, and I feel his absence. He’s speaking to Bree, their voices low. I try not to look, but try desperately to listen. Not that I can hear anything.
But then suddenly, Caleb nods, and he’s moving toward me, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me into him. His head rests on my shoulder, his lips kissing my neck.
I stiffen for a moment, the touch so unexpected. But he leans in, his voice brushing against my ear, his whisper soft and unsure.
“I want to hold your hand.”
My heart stutters before slamming back to life. When I finally manage to breathe, I whisper back, “You can. If you want.”
He kisses my neck once more, right above my frantic pulse, before stepping to my side and holding out his hand. Open. Waiting.
I stare down at it. I shouldn’t. But I do.
I slip my fingers into his hand, and his curl around mine, like it’s the easiest thing he’s done all day.
For a long moment, we just stand there, hand in hand, watching the jellyfish drift around us.
“Just so there’s no confusion in the future,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing lightly against my knuckles. “I always want to hold your hand, Whit.”
Oh god.
I let out a weak breath and nod.
“Okay.”
Caleb grins, and then the moment is broken. He tugs me forward, leading us out of the jellyfish exhibit and to a place where we can petstingrays. We step into a wide, open room centered on a shallow pool. Inside, I can make out two giant stingrays that glide across the sandy bottom, their tails flicking back and forth as they move. A cluster of children crowds around the edge, leaning so far forward, their hands trailing in the water, eager to touch.
It makes me nervous.
That can’t be sanitary.
“Come on,” Caleb says, his hand squeezing mine. “You going to pet one?”
“No,” I reply. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“They’re slimy. I’d prefer not to.”
“Come on. New experiences stretch you.” When I don’t budge, Caleb leans into me slightly, his eyes twinkling. “For me, yeah?”
I stare at him for a beat. I’ve already stepped so far outside of my comfort zone since meeting him. What’s one more small step? For Caleb. For him.
