“What about that eight-hundred-page biography about jazz history you bought and then used it as a laptop stand.”
“In my defense, it was structurally supportive.”
She laughs harder this time, shaking her head as she reaches automatically across the table toward me.Her fingers brush the back of my hand.Its a tiny thing.Barely contact at all.But neither of us pulls away.The laughter softens between us when her fingertips remain against mine.
Then my hand turns instinctively beneath hers.No thought.No decision.Just muscle memory and something far more dangerous than that.Her fingers slide between mine naturally.Like they still belong there.The entire café seems to disappear for half a second.
I look down at our hands.Then back up at her.Vanessa’s gaze drops briefly too, and I catch the smallest change in her breathing before she looks at me again.Aware.Not retreating.Not running.Just, there.And Christ, this feels more intimate than kissing her did.Because I don’t remember deciding to hold her hand.I just know I don’t want to let go.
Neither of us moves first.Our hands stay tangled together across the small table while conversation buzzes around us and October wind rattles against the windows beside us.
Vanessa glances down at our fingers once more before looking back up at me, something quieter settling into her expression now.Not guarded, not entirely.But softer than before.I shift my thumb against the inside of her hand without thinking.Her breath catches almost imperceptibly.Fuck.
“There’s a bookstore next door,” I hear myself say.
One corner of her mouth lifts.“Is that your attempt at a smooth transition?”
“I already told you I’m not smooth.”
“No,” she agrees with a soft shake of her head.“You really aren’t.”But she doesn’t let go of my hand.That feels important.
Outside, the cold hits sharper after the warmth of the café, wind tugging loose strands of hair across Vanessa’s face the second we step onto the sidewalk.Instinct takes over before thought does, and I reach out, sliding the strands gently behind her ear.
Her eyes dart up to mine.The touch lingers half a second too long.Not enough to turn into something else, but enough that we both feel it anyway.
“You always did that.”
“What?”
“Take care of things before anyone asks you to.”
The observation lands somewhere directly beneath my ribs.I don’t know what to say to that.So instead, I open the bookstore door and let her walk in first.
Warm air scented with paper and cedar wraps around us as we step inside, the store quieter here than the café next door.Soft classical music filters through hidden speakers somewhere overhead, while narrow aisles stretch between towering shelves lined with everything from art history to philosophy to worn paperback fiction.
Vanessa lets out a soft exhale beside me.“Okay.I love this place already.”
I glance toward her, my brow lifting.“You’ve never been here?”
“No.”She steps further inside, her gaze drifting over the shelves with visible appreciation.“I knew it would be dangerous.”
“For my wallet?”I chuckle and give her hand a light squeeze.
“For my apartment storage situation.”She covers her mouth as a soft giggle escapes.
We wander without direction after that.And somehow that’s the best part.No destination.Just moving through the aisles together while conversation slips easily from one topic to another.
At one point, Vanessa pulls a massive photography book from a shelf and nearly drops it due to its size and weight.“Oooof!This thing is heavy!”
I take it from her before she can struggle further.“Give me that before you hurt yourself.”
“Always have to be the hero, huh, Hayden?”
“Only when I am.”I slide the book back into its original home on the shelf.
A grin tugs at my mouth as she narrows her eyes at me.“There’s the ego.”
“You like the ego.”
