Ansel’s hand stilled.
I kept going, not sure why. “I think I miss the idea of safety, you know? The idea that someone could hold me. Could touch me and I could just… trust that I was safe. That he wouldn’t hurt me.”
His voice was hoarse. “Yeah. I know.”
We sat in the quiet for a while after that. Just the sound of themovie and the soft hum of the refrigerator across the open floor plan. And then?—
“I should be more careful,” I said suddenly.
He turned his head. “With what?”
“With this.” I gestured vaguely — to us, to the couch, to the long stretch of blanket draped across both our legs. “This is too easy, with you.”
“Easy doesn’t have to mean bad.”
I finally looked at him. His eyes were darker in the low light. Heavy. Serious. And soft in a way that made me feel like I might break apart.
“You’re… good at pretending,” I said.
Ansel didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. But his voice was quiet when he answered. “Who said I’m pretending?”
I forgot how to breathe.
The room went still. The air pulled tight around us. I couldn’t look at him — not really — so I looked down, instead. To where his hand had slipped just under the hoodie again, warm against my ribs. Familiar, now. Like it had always been there.
I could’ve pulled away.
I didn’t.
Instead, I leaned just a little closer, let my head fall against his shoulder like I was tired. Like I wasn’t trying to figure out how the hell I was going to survive this without falling in love with someone I was never allowed to keep.
The movie played on.
And I sat in the dark with a boy who had kissed me like it mattered and held me like I was already his. Even when it was all pretend.
And all I could do was try not to fall apart.
CHAPTER 28
She was so close I could barely breathe.
I could barelythink.
Curled into my side like she belonged there — like I hadn’t been holding my breath the entire night, pretending I didn’t want to memorize the weight of her against me. My hoodie hung loose around her frame, sleeves too long, her knees tucked under her. She smelled like vanilla and clean laundry and maybe something sweeter underneath it all. Something that made my heart thud like a goddamn drum.
My hand had found its way under the hem of the sweatshirt hours ago — innocent at first, just a gentle press to her waist. A point of contact. A reminder that this wasn’t a dream.
But I hadn’t moved it.
And neither had she.
I let my thumb brush against her skin. Once. Twice.
She didn’t flinch.
Sheleaned.
And I had lost all my common sense.
