The reality is messier. The reality is me tracking her across the hotel lobby like some lovesick idiot, pretending I’m checking my phone while I watch her talk to Dana about tomorrow’s schedule. The reality is catching her eye for half a second and feeling it everywhere.
“You’re staring,” Banks says, dropping into the chair next to me.
“I’m not staring.”
“You’re absolutely staring.” He doesn’t even look up from his phone. “You’ve been staring since we landed.” For a guy with the resting expression of someone plotting violence, Banks is annoyingly perceptive about other people’s emotions.
“Mind your business.”
“This is my business. You’re my ride or die, Bish. If you crash and burn, I have to hear about it.” He finally glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “You two being smart about this?”
“We’re being careful.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I don’t answer, because the truth is I don’t know anymore. Smart would be keeping my distance. Smart would be waiting until the season’s over, until she’s not technically part of my medical staff, until there’s no risk to her career.
Smart went out the window somewhere around the third time I kissed her.
“Just... don’t get caught,” Banks says quietly. “For her sake, if not yours.”
“I know.”
He nods once and goes back to his phone, and I return to not staring at Tori across the lobby.
She’s wearing that gray sweater again. The soft one that slips off her shoulder sometimes. I want to put my mouth on that shoulder. I want to do a lot of things I shouldn’t be thinking about in a hotel lobby surrounded by my teammates.
She glances over. Our eyes meet.
One corner of her mouth twitches—barely there. A secret meant just for me.
Then she turns back to Dana like nothing happened, and I remember how to breathe.
• • •
The in-between moments are where we live now.
The hotel hallway at midnight, when everyone else is asleep, and I “happen” to need ice from the machine near her room.
She opens her door on the second knock, wearing an oversized T-shirt and sleep shorts, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes widen when she sees me.
“Zayden, what are you—”
I crowd her backward into the room, kicking the door shut behind me.
“Five minutes,” I say, my hands already finding her waist. “Just give me five minutes.”
“Someone could have seen you.”
“No one saw me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Tori.” I tip her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Five minutes. Then I’ll go.”
She stares at me for a long moment. Then her shoulders drop, and she fists the front of my shirt, pulling me closer.
“Five minutes,” she says. “And then you’re gone.”
