“Structurally sound,” he says.
“Barely,” I whisper, but let’s be honest. I’m kind of talking about myself now.
His eyes meet mine, and while he holds the gaze, I swear I can see them glimmer like he’s also holding a secret he wants to tell me. “Counts.”
I nod, turning back toward the street as we start walking again. Like nothing happened. Except—something did.
And I have a feeling pretending it didn’t is only going to work for so long.
CHAPTER 14
TY
We’re walking. Just a couple of people making their way down a street on a Saturday afternoon, enjoying the sunshine.
At least that’s what it looks like from the outside.
Side by side, same pace, same rhythm as before. Like nothing’s changed. Like the last five minutes didn’t change something for both of us. I know I felt it and I’m pretty sure she did, too.
I keep my eyes forward. Because every time I look at her, it gets worse, and I don’t need worse right now. I’ve got a cone in one hand, melting faster than I’m eating it, and the very clear memory of her standing too close, looking at me like?—
She bumps my elbow lightly as we step around a couple walking the opposite direction, and it’s nothing. Accidental. A sunny day with two people, hanging out, walking around like it’s our routine.
Except it’s not. Nothing about it is routine for me. Everything is magnified right now. Everything registers. The pressure, the angle, the exact point of any contact I have withher. It sticks longer than it should, like my brain doesn’t file it away fast enough.
I exhale slowly, dragging my focus back to the street. Brick buildings. People, lots of them, milling around us. A dog pulling at its leash like it’s got somewhere better to be.
Predictable. That’s what I like. Clear lines. Expected outcomes. Things that behave the way they’re supposed to.
Whatever is happening here does not fit into that category.
I glance over anyway. She’s looking straight ahead, focused, like she’s made a conscious decision not to look at me again. Her grip tightens slightly around her cone, her thumb moving back and forth across the paper, like she’s concentrating on not dropping it.
Or maybe she’s concentrating on something else entirely. I almost say something. But I don’t. Instead, I look ahead. Say nothing. That’s the move. Safe, Ty. Be quiet. Except?—
“You always do that?” I hear myself ask.
So much for keeping my mouth shut.
She turns her head, just enough. “Do what?”
I shrug, keeping my tone even. Casual. Like I didn’t just replay that entire moment in high definition.
“Act like nothing happened.”
She stops, mid lick, her eyes flicking to mine.
“Nothing happened,” she says with a tiny grin on her lips.
I nod once. “Right.”
We walk another few steps. I should leave it there. But I don’t.
“Would’ve been awkward if it had.”
That gets a reaction. She glances at me again, sharper this time, like she’s trying to read what I mean by that. Which—well, it’s fair. Still, I don’t elaborate. If she’s going to act like this is nothing, then I can be patient.
I just take another bite of my ice cream like I’m in the middle of an ordinary conversation and not choosing my words way more carefully than I need to.
