Holden blinks up at me. If he’s confused, he’s hiding it well.
With the door closed, I brace my hands on the edge of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror.
“Get a grip,” I mutter. “It’s nothing.”
It was literally nothing! Our shoulders touched. That’s it. We’ve always been that way. Some even call us touchy. It’s not new. It’s not—shit, who am I kidding?It’s all new. My heart has never felt like it was flinging itself off a cliff just from Holden touching me.
I rub my sternum, exhaling hard. I’d splash cold water on my face if it didn’t ruin my makeup. I need to come to my senses. The ground beneath me seems to sway, and the lights overhead seem to get brighter.
I slam my eyes shut.
I can’t do this.
The feeling is twice as strong. Ican’t.This is Holden. My best friend. I can’t be feeling things for him… if that’s even what this is.
I stay in the bathroom so long I’m surprised Holden doesn’t come to check on me. When I come back out, Holden has cleaned up the empty ice cream containers and replaced our dirty spoons with two glasses of ice water. A different movie is queued up on screen, and right away, I can tell it’s something more to my taste. Something cheekier.
He glances up when I walk in, but says nothing.
I was prepared to leave, yet here I am, dropping back onto the couch as if nothing happened. I purposely leave more space between us, though. Once again, if Holden is confused or even disappointed in my choice, he doesn’t comment on it. Just hands me a drink.
“Thought we’d try something you might actually pay attention to.”
“Ha. You’re assuming I’ll even be able to stay awake.”
I glance toward the door without meaning to. We both have work in the morning, and it’s already late. Plus tonight has already crossed back over into what-the-fuck territory and I’m not sure how to handle it.
“Stay,” Holden says, like he can hear the thoughts rapid-firing in my head.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
My heart squeezes. How easily Holden reads me…
“Holden.” I don’t finish the thought, because what can I say? This weird, unsettled feeling is exactly why I don’t open my heart to people. It’s pulling me under. I don’t know how to control it.
“I should probably—”
“Stay,” he says again, softer this time. Not pushing, exactly. Just… pleading. Hoping. For what, though? That’s the question. What are we even doing?Is he even feeling any of this?I can’t be sure. He’d noticed my spiral—no doubt. But is hefeelingit? Is Holden feeling anything I am?
“Fine, but like I said, I might fall asleep. And if I do, that’s on you.”
He starts the movie, and the room gets quiet except for the drone of the TV. Once again, I’m aware of everything. The way he shifts beside me. The sound of his breathing. The faint brush of fabric when he moves his arm along the back of the couch.
I keep my focus locked on the screen like it’s the most important thing in the world, but it’s not working.
At some point, his hand drops down from the back. He clears his throat, shifting his weight. It’s not a big movement, but enough to lessen the twelve-inch gap I had purposely set between us.
His hand lands on the couch, right in the middle, only an inch from my own. His whole body seems stiff now. Even his leg has stopped bouncing, which is a miracle for him.
I worry my lip, frozen and captivated at the same time.
A minute passes, and I canalmostfocus on the movie again. But then his fingers brush mine, so light I almost miss it. It could have been an accident. Hell, it probablywasan accident—except Holden doesn’t pull away.
And neither do I.
My pulse kicks in again, sharp and insistent.Thump, thump, thump.I stare at the screen, but am not seeing a damn thing. For the second time tonight, all I can think about is that point of contact—as tiny as it is.
