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Her lips part slightly, and I lift my hand, gently touching her temple with the tip of my finger.

“In here,” I whisper. “You make it quiet in here.”

My finger moves down, coming to rest lightly against her dress, just above her heart.

“And here.”

She draws in a breath, and I feel it beneath my fingertip. Her eyes stay on mine, and for one ridiculous second I wonder what would happen if I leaned just a little closer.

I know I should move my hand.

I don't.

“Doesn't matter how many people are around or how loud it gets.” My voice drops. “If you're there, Nora, it all goes quiet.”

For a moment, neither of us moves. Her gaze drops to where my finger rests against her chest, and when she looks back up at me, there's something in her expression I can't quite read.

Then she takes a small step back.

“We should go to the bonfire,” she says, glancing towards the gathering. “I bet the meat is ready.”

There it is.

The wall.

I lower my hand and give her the space she's asking for, even if she hasn't said it out loud.

“Let's go.”

We turn towards the others, and I shove my hands back into my pockets, trying to ignore the fact that I can still feel the warmth of her skin against my fingertips.

You're pushing too hard, asshole.

I know it. I knew it the second I touched her cheek, and I still couldn't stop myself.

I've spent my whole life knowing when to pull back, when to give people space, when to keep my fucking mouth shut. It's practically a survival skill at this point.

But when it comes to Nora, I seem to have forgotten every single thing I've ever learned about self-preservation.

I'm free-falling, and I can already see the ground rushing towards me.

This is going to hurt.

Eleonora

Today has been… weird.

On one hand, I feel like I've had Damiano walking right beside me all day, and on the other, I'm starting to notice things about Jude that I never paid much attention to before.

Little things. Like his different smiles.

There's the polite one he gives people he doesn't know very well. Quick, barely reaching his eyes. Then there's the one he gets when he talks about horses, Wyoming or his family. It's softer somehow, like just thinking about home settles something inside him.

There's the half smile he gives me when I tease him, usually accompanied by a shake of his head, as though I'm the most annoying person he's ever met. And then there's the full-on smile when someone says or does something funny or stupid. The rare one that changes his whole face and makes those little lines appear beside his eyes.

I like that one.

Maybe a little too much.