Noah had moved the coffee table, leaving an open space before the couch.
“You planned the geography.”
“I know how your knees function.”
I almost laughed.
Then I saw the nervousness beneath his expression.
I stopped several feet away.
“We do not have to do this tonight.”
“I know.”
“We can change any rule.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me to sit?”
“Yes.”
I took the center of the couch.
Noah remained standing for another moment.
Then he lowered himself beside me. He turned slightly and brought one leg onto the cushion. His healing hip prevented him from folding it completely.
He reached for his phone.
“Timer.”
“You want an alarm?”
“I don’t trust my ability to measure ten minutes while kissing you.”
“That is optimistic.”
“It is based on prior evidence.”
He set the timer and placed the phone facedown.
Neither of us moved.
Noah looked at my mouth.
“Can I begin?”
“Yes.”
He touched my cheek first.
His fingertips moved into my beard, testing the texture as if it belonged on Dr. Whitcomb’s scale.
“Green?” he asked.
“Very green.”
