I grab her hand without thinking.
“Delilah,” I say, barely able to contain the thrill in my voice, “nobody else is going to think of this.”
She glances down at our hands like she’s trying to decide if it’s real, then looks back up at me. A slow smile starts to spread across her face—not the sharp, guarded kind I’m used to, but something softer. Brighter.
Genuine.
“You really think so?” she asks, quiet, almost like she doesn’t want to want the answer as much as she does.
“I know so,” I say, and I squeeze her hand. “This is how we win.”
And then something breaks loose between us. I’m not sure who moves first but suddenly, she’s in my arms and I’m spinning her off the ground right there on the sidewalk at 8:20 AM, traffic buzzing in the distance, the morning sun catching in her hair.
She lets me.
That alone is wild.
She lets me lift her, hold her, laugh like no one’s watching. And the sound that escapes her? It’s not a chuckle. It’s not a smirk. It’s a full-body, breathless, utterlyDelilahlaugh; free and unfiltered and so beautiful it stops me cold.
I set her down, but my hands don’t move. Neither do hers.
She’s still holding onto me. Still smiling. Still standing close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath and count the freckles across her cheekbones.
We’re grinning like idiots.
“Did you just giggle, Greer?” I ask, eyes wide in mock horror.
She tries to scowl. It barely lasts a second. “Shut up, Hawkins.”
“You did.” I’m glowing. I know it. I don’t care. “Yougiggled.”
“I swear to god?—”
“I didn’t know you were capable of such human sounds. Are you malfunctioning? Should I call the IT department?”
She groans, but her hands stay on my shoulders. Mine stay around her waist. Neither of us is moving.
And in the middle of a morning that should’ve just beenanother work session, I realize something quietly, terrifyingly simple…
Ineverwant to stop making her laugh like that.
“We're going to be late,” she says, but doesn't move away.
“Worth it.” My voice comes out softer than I intended. “Your idea is brilliant. You're brilliant.”
Something flickers across her face before she steps back, smoothing down her wild hair.
“Well,” she says, gathering her sketchbook and backpack. “We should probably get going."
I nod, already missing her closeness like it's a physical ache. What the hell is happening to me?
“We could skip our first classes? Go to CC's and flesh out some of these ideas?”
I really wasn't looking forward to more fluid flow dynamics anyway. This—her—sounds way more entertaining.
“Yeah. I mean I don't have a class until 11 today anyway, I just couldn't wait to tell you my idea.” She slides into the passenger seat, but the smile hasn't left her face. “That sounds good.”
I walk around to the driver's side, watching as she immediately opens her sketchbook again, diving back into her notes. Her excitement is contagious, filling the car with a kind of energy I can feel in my bones.
