The fire was safer.
Sunny swallowed. “That is a very smug marshmallow.”
“I told you.”
“It’s simple.”
“That’s not an insult.”
“It’s simple,” she said again, slower this time. “And it’s good.”
I looked at her.
The firelight moved across her face, softening nothing, sharpening everything I’d been trying not to want. “That sounded painful.”
“Personal growth is hard for everyone.”
She lifted the s’more toward me. “Bite?”
“I’ve had one.”
“Not this one.”
She was challenging me.
I took the edge she offered. My teeth broke graham cracker. Marshmallow pulled soft between us before snapping back against the chocolate. Sunny’s fingers held steady under mine, but her breath changed. One small hitch.
The coals popped.
She looked at the s’more, then at me. “You’ve got chocolate on your thumb.”
“I’ll live.”
“That’s not the point.”
She caught my wrist before I could move.
I let her.
Sunny brought my hand closer and used her napkin to wipe the chocolate from my thumb with careful, exaggerated seriousness. It should’ve been funny. It was funny. It also made every muscle in my back draw tight.
The napkin missed a streak.
Her attention lifted to mine. “I can’t tell if you did that on purpose.”
“I didn’t.”
“Shame.”
She reached into the bag of ice, wrapped one cube in the napkin, and dragged the cold bundle over my sticky thumb.
I stopped breathing for a second.
Sunny smiled. “Useful?”
“Dangerous.”
“Same thing in a better outfit.”
