“He did,” I said. “Not like he was ashamed. Not like I was wrong. He just… stopped. Like he cared enough to.”
Regan nodded.
“That matters.”
“I know.”
And I did.
That was the most confusing part.
I knew Dylan had wanted to kiss me. I knew I had wanted to kiss him. I also knew he had pulled back before the kiss could become something grief and fear tried to turn into a lifeline.
He had not taken.
He had waited.
There was a difference.
A knock sounded at the door.
I jumped.
Regan stood immediately, wiping under her eyes with one quick motion that erased every trace of the conversation except the softness still sitting in her face.
“That’ll be food,” she said.
But when she opened the door, Nate stood there carrying a tray and wearing an expression so serious it had to be fake.
“Ladies,” he announced, stepping inside. “Room service has arrived. Also, emergency update. We have suffered a tragedy.”
His sunglasses were pushed up on top of his head.
Which meant there was absolutely nothing hiding his face.
His beard was gone.
Completely gone.
I blinked.
He looked ten years younger and deeply offended by his own jaw.
Regan stared.
Nate pointed at her. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“You look?—”
“Don’t.”
“You look like you sell boat shoes to freshmen.”
He closed his eyes. “I knew this would happen.”
