"Yeah, I've heard that too," he said. "You want to take a quick 60-second nap."
"Sounds good."
So, we closed our eyes.
Or at least, I pretended to before squinting one eye and opening both to look at him.
Tolliver's head was resting back against the couch.
He looked so peaceful.
I wondered what he would look like when I confessed my love. Would that peace fade away? Would he even be surprised? I thought I'd made it fairly obvious. But I'd had trouble admitting my feelings to myself, and now, I was having that same issue conveying them.
And he was right.
I was jumpy.
Every time Tolliver came close or his hand brushed mine, I startled. Each of his breaths that ghosted against my cheek made me visibly shiver. I couldn't say it, but my body was doing a brilliant job of telling Tolliver how I felt.
Why didn't anyone ever tell you how hard this was?
Once you figured out you'd fallen for someone, they always made it seem so easy.
But it wasn't.
Tolliver was still sitting there, looking too beautiful for words.
Slowly, his lips pulled up in a smile.
"I can feel you watching me," he murmured.
"You can?" I asked. "What's that like?"
"Feels good."
"I guess I'll just keep staring then."
"Ah, but then I might get the wrong idea."
"Which would be?"
Tolliver opened his eyes, capturing me effortlessly, making my breath catch too.
As his hand lifted to cup my cheek, caressing the skin there with a sweep of his thumb, I forgot to breathe altogether.
"Freya, I think I know why you're acting weird."
"Do you?" I said.
He nodded. "And it's okay. I don't mind."
It took me several seconds to process that.
"Wait, what do you mean?" I asked.
"Your feelings for him."
I blinked.
