“You’re thinking,” she said.
“I usually am.”
She snorted. The alcohol had burned off, and with it went some of the openness. I could see it happen in real time. Her shoulders drew in a fraction. The humor stayed, but the access didn’t.
It intrigued me. It worried me. It made me want to earn whatever she was pulling back.
She turned and studied my face. “You don’t flirt.”
“Not often, no.”
“Why?”
“People tend to expect something when you flirt.”
She nodded like that confirmed a theory she had been playing around with. Steam drifted between us while I kept my hands braced on the stone, even though every part of me wanted to close the distance and touch her. I didn’t. She must have noticed because she inched closer, her shoulder brushing mine in a way that felt both casual and entirely intentional. My pulse kicked hard, and it took everything in me to stay still.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For earlier. For not making it weird.”
“It wasn’t weird,” I said.
“It could have been.”
“Yes,” I said with a smile. “It could have.”
She leaned her head back again, gaze returning to the sky. The moment felt balanced on something thin.
I wanted her—I couldn’t deny it. That was the easy part.
What unsettled me was how much I wanted tounderstandher, and how much it felt like she was deciding whether to let me.
Bracing my arms on my knees, I counted the lanterns again. Four on the left curve of stone. Four on the right. The waterline stayed where it should. Steam curled low and steady, but I didn’t look at it. I looked at Zoey instead.
Her posture said relaxed. Her jaw said not at all. She kept her hands folded like she was guarding a secret.
Every few seconds, I had to stop myself from reaching for her. From brushing the damp hair off her shoulder. From pulling her in until that guarded line in her body eased. The most ridiculous impulse of all was to lower my head against her shoulder and stay there like I’d earned it. I had not. My body didn’t seem interested in that distinction.
“Why’d you put me down as your emergency contact?”
She snorted. “You were there. And upright.”
That shouldn’t have pleased me as much as it did. Being chosen for availability was still chosen. I wasn’t proud of how quickly my instincts ran with it.
“That’s not what I meant.”
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing like she was deciding whether I was about to be annoying. “Then what did you mean, exactly?”
“I meant, why wouldn’t someone like you have someone else to put there?”
She blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh. That.” She waved a hand. “Bold of you to assume I come with a roster.”
“A roster?”
“Yes. A bench. A depth chart. A laminated list of trusted adults.”
I smiled. “You’re telling me you don’t?”
“I’m telling you that if I were charming, my life would look very different. I would own candles. I would have plants that are still alive. I would have at least one ex who doesn’t describe me as ‘intimidating but hot.’”
