He glances at me.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “You’d go into the basement, wouldn’t you?”
I smile. “I’d already know what was in it.”
His expression shifts, amusement flickering with curiosity. “Why does that sound more ominous than comforting?”
“Because you’re very perceptive.”
He studies me for a second too long.
He studies me a beat too long.
Heat crawls up my neck. I reach for my spoon and take another bite of ice cream.
Drew watches me now instead of the movie.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Maybe I’m mysterious.”
“You’re not.”
His brows rise. “I’m not?”
“No.” I lean back against the couch, studying him. “You’re careful. There’s a difference.”
The words land softly and precisely between us.
His face changes again, and I know I’ve touched a nerve.
I want to slide my fingers under every guarded part of him and pry gently until he opens for me.
But tonight isn’t for taking.
Tonight is for proving I can wait.
That I can let him come closer on his own.
Drew exhales, leaning back against the cushions. “Yeah,” he says after a moment. “Maybe.”
I soften my voice. “It’s not a bad thing.”
“It feels like one sometimes.”
My chest tightens.
There’s a crack. Small, but real.
I turn toward him fully. “Why?”
His throat works as he swallows.
For a second, I think he’s going to answer. To let me see past another locked door.
