Henry
I tuck a loose coil of hair behind her ear, moving slowly and deliberately.
I’d be an idiot not to have noticed the way she sometimes startles, the way she maintains physical distance. The way she’s hesitant to touch. I don’t remember her being like that three years ago, and speculating about why she’s changed ignites a firestorm of anger in me.
She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t lift her palm from where it rests against my sternum. She doesn’t tug her hand free of mine.
I put everything I’ve got into decoding her expression, the pace of her breath.
“Are you okay?” I ask, because it seems crucial to be sure.
She smiles. “I think so.”
“You’ll tell me if that changes? If you’re ever not okay?”
She lets out a breath and nods.
I gesture toward her apartment door. “Do you need to go in?”
“Probably. If Tati’s home, she’ll be waiting up.”
“What if she’s still with my dad?”
“Then we should start a matchmaking service because holy balls, we have a gift.”
I laugh. Chemistry is what we have. She’s got to feel it too.
As frantically as my brain’s shouting about how I should back off, keep my priorities in mind, remember what happened last time I went all-in on a girl, my skin’s buzzing where it touches hers, and my muscles twitch with the need to pull her closer.
“We should do it again,” I say.
Her eyes flash with curiosity. “Do what again?”
“Kiss.” And then I scramble to backtrack. “I mean, if you want. Or not. But I want to. You should know that. So if the urge ever strikes, I’m”—my face is hot even before I finish making my witless admission—“a willing participant.”
She gives my chest a playful shove. “You had better game when you were fourteen.”
I take her teasing in stride. She’s exactly right.
“I’m not here to run game. I’m here so you can out-putt-putt me and judge my condiment choices, then school me on Delphina and the Talking Turtle in the Trench.”
“That’s not one of the titles—” she starts before realizing I’m messing with her. She drops her head back, laughing, setting loose the lock of hair I tamed a minute ago.
That’s it—making Piper Nixon laugh is my new life’s goal.
“Where do you come up with this stuff?” she asks.
I tap my temple. “There’s a lot going on up here. You’ve barely scratched the surface.”
“I’m starting to understand that.”
She squeezes my hand, her gaze holding mine.
I’m a willing participant.
Jesus H. She must think I’m the world’s biggest tool.
Or…not.
Okay, no, she doesn’t, because holy shit—she’s rising up onto her toes, leaning toward me, sweeping her tongue across her bottom lip.
A shiver of anticipation rolls through me.
Inches separate us, a single breath.
My eyes have just fallen closed when the sound of an unlocking dead bolt makes them fly open again. Piper pulls back, slipping her hand from mine as she whirls around.
The apartment door swings wide. Tati sticks her head into the hallway. “Oh, I thought I heard voices. Glad you made it home safe.” She looks from Piper to me, then back again. She smiles. “I’ll…leave you to it.”
And then she disappears behind the closing door.
Piper swivels to face me, eyes dinner-plate round. “Who the hell was that?”
“That was your sister,” I say, playing along, “who clearly spent an enjoyable evening with a very pleasant companion.”
She snorts. “Are you, like, seventy-five?”
“Practically.”
Now she laughs. “I should go in. Want to hang out tomorrow night?”
I grin. “I’ll check my day planner.”