Page 68 of Glitched Play

Warm.

Breathing.

Real.

And somehow my brain insists on comparing them even though it shouldn't.

They're nothing alike.

Except...

They challenge me.

They ask better questions than anyone else.

They refuse easy answers.

They make me want to become a better version of myself.

Coincidence.

Has to be.

My hand lifts before I consciously decide to move it.

Not toward her face.

That's too much.

A single strand of silvery-pink hair has escaped whatever impossible arrangement women create before formal events.

It's resting against her shoulder.

Crooked.

I gently hook it with one finger.

Tuck it behind her ear.

My fingertips barely brush her skin.

Warm.

She inhales sharply.

So do I.

My pulse, usually dependable and consistent, becomes... less dependable.

This is a mistake.

I know it is.

Employee.

CEO.

Temporary roommate.