And I look down, noticing the way his hands are fisted against his thighs. White-knuckled.
Like he’s doing his best to keep them in place.
We’re close.
Too close.
His shoulders are set, and I can feel the tension in him.
The restraint.
His eyes roam over me from where I’m still standing between his legs, slowly taking in every inch until he raises them to mine.
And just like that—everything shifts.
Again.
It’s that same pull that got us in trouble in the first place.
That same undeniable gravity.
That thing between us that never really went away, no matter how much distance we put between it.
I swallow hard.
“Try not to get gored by any more livestock,” I say, because I need to say something before I do something incredibly stupid.
“Can’t make any promises,” he replies, voice low.
Of course he can’t.
Because that’s Benji.
Always has been.
I step back.
Just enough to breathe.
Just enough to remember who I am.
Why I’m here.
“I should, um, shower,” I say, gesturing vaguely behind me.
“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
Doesn’t look away.
And for one dangerous, stupid second—neither do I.
Because the truth is?
This isn’t over.
Not even close.
And if I’m not careful—I’m going to fall right back into him.
