“To the paint section!” She throws her arms wide, nearly knocking over a display. “Onward,noblesteed!”
“You’re going to get us kicked out.” But I head towards the paint section anyway.
“What about this one?” She holds up a swatch.
“That’s the same pink as before.”
“No, this is ‘Ballet Slipper.’ The other one was ‘Rose Petal.’ Completely different.” She waves them in my face. “See?”
“They’re identical.”
“Your color blindness hurts me, Spencer.” She steps closer, holding them against my chest. “Look at the undertones.”
All I can focus on is her hands on my chest, how easy it would be to back her against the shelves and show her exactly what she does to me. The thought of her pressed between my body and the wall makes my blood run hot. But the night in the geology department was a mistake, I can’t give in again.
An elderly couple appears and Tara immediately slides into character, pressing herself against my side. “Baby,” she says sweetly, “what do you think about this one for our room?”
Our room.
“Whatever you want, Tink.” The nickname comes out rougher than intended.
She wraps her arms around my waist, andfuck, shefeels good. Small and warm and perfect against me. “See? This is why I love you. So agreeable.”
My hands find her hips automatically. Even through her clothes, her skin burns hot under my palms. “Agreeable?” I raise an eyebrow. “Tell that to Professor Hammond after our lab notation argument.”
“That was different. You were wrong.”
“I was not?—”
“You two are adorable,” the elderly woman says as they pass. “Young love is so beautiful.”
Tara beams at them, then turns that kilowatt smile on me. “Hear that? We’re adorable.”
“You’re something.” My voice drops lower as I notice how her pupils dilate. She’s still pressed against me, and I swear I can feel her heart racing. Or maybe that’s mine.
“Good practice though, right?” Her voice has gone breathy in a way that makes me think about how she’d sound underneath me.
“Very convincing.” I brush hair from her face, letting my fingers trail down her neck. Her pulse jumps under my touch. “Though we should probably work on?—”
“Can I help you folks find anything?”
We spring apart at the clerk’s voice. Tara launches into questions about paint types, but all I can think about is how she felt against me. How much I want to pull her back.
She’s telling the clerk how we’re painting a mural, her hands moving animatedly as she explains it.
I’m only half listening because I’m too focused on how her eyes light up, how she gets this little crease between her brows when she’s really into a topic.
“Oh!” She stops mid-sentence, eyes going wide.
“Look!” Before I can ask what, she’s grabbing my arm, pulling me to the guy.
“And my boyfriend, Alfie, is the artist behind the whole thing. It’s going to be amazing having some color on there!” She’s practically bouncing with excitement. The clerk looks confused but smiles politely back.
And fuck, watching her get this excited about the project, about everything - it hits me.
This feeling in my chest whenever she’s around, how I can’t help smiling when she rambles about science, the way my skin burns where she’s touching my arm... I think I might be falling for her.
The realization should terrify me. Probably would if I let myself think about it too hard.
