We both go still. It’s subtle but it’s there. Enough that I notice it. The warmth of his hand is one thing, but the way he’s now closer than he was a second ago is a whole other. The faint smell of mint from his ice cream, the feel of his breath on my cheek. The way the sun hits his face just enough that I can see the concentration there soften into something else when he looks up at me.
Our eyes meet. And hold.
There aren’t any fireworks. It’s not sweeping music and wind and anything you’d expect. It’s quieter than that. But to me, thishits harder, because suddenly I’m very aware of him. Of the fact that I kissed him a couple of weeks ago, and at the time it felt like a moment. A blip. Something I could tuck away and not think too hard about.
And now—now he’s here. And he’s this close. Holding my wrist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And I don’t feel like brushing it off.
My brain, however, is doing agreatjob of trying. This is just a moment. This is nothing.
This is ice cream and a sunny day and?—
His thumb caresses my skin, sending a cascade of flurries through my system.
Oh.
That does not help.
At all.
I swallow, my gaze flicking down to his mouth for half a second before snapping back up.
Dangerous. Those lips of his are dangerous. And we are getting close to something I’m not sure I’m ready to name.
Or handle.
Or—
“Hey. Sorry. But, excuse me, aren’t you Ty McCade?”
The moment breaks. It’s sharper than I’d like it to be, but hey, it’s a clean break at that. I whip my hand back as Ty straightens, turning toward the voice.
A guy, mid-twenties, maybe, stands a few feet away, already pulling his phone out.
“From the Dominion?” he adds, like he just needs the confirmation.
Ty exhales, something shifting back into place as he gives a quick nod. “Yeah. That’s me.”
“I thought so! That’s awesome,” the guy says, grinning. “You’re my favorite player. Can I grab a photo?”
“Sure,” Ty says easily.
I take a small step away from the pair, giving them space, myfingers curling slightly like they’re remembering something they shouldn’t.
The guy moves in beside him, lifting his phone. Ty leans in just enough, relaxed, practiced.
Click.
“Thanks, man. Good luck next season.”
“Appreciate it.”
The guy walks off, still looking at his phone unaware of the moment he’d interrupted or the fact that he’s left two people alone who have more to talk about than either is willing to admit to at the moment.
Ty glances over at me, one brow lifting slightly. “You good?”
“Oh, yeah,” I nod, maybe a fraction too quickly. “So good. Fine.” I lift my cone like proof. “Still intact.”
He looks at it, then at me, a hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.
