Page 71 of Show Me

Because if I fail, no one sees. Because expectations feel like cages. Because I’ve spent my whole life being what someone else needed. I swallow. “Because it was mine.”

He leans against the doorframe, giving me space instead of stepping closer.

“Vet tech?”

I nod. “Eventually. Maybe. Right now, I’m about to finish my general courses.”

He studies me for a long moment. “You’d be good at it.” The certainty in his voice hits harder than it should.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know you stayed calm tonight when most people wouldn’t.” His expression is so serious it’s unlike the Xavier I’ve always known, and it’s hard to meet his gaze. “I know you take care of things that can’t protect themselves.” He glances down the hallway where Squirt lies, making a low humming sound. “I know you notice details most people miss.”

“Thank you.” I lick my lips. No one has ever described me like that, and it makes my chest swell more than it should. I re-grab the pillow because I need something to do with my hands before I do something I regret. “I got you this.”

“Thanks.” One corner of his mouth arches upward, and his ridiculously attractive dimple pops.

My heart pounds in my ears. We’re alone in my bedroom. And his dimple is showing. “We should go to the living room.”

“Right.” He nods, drops the book on the dresser, and steps out of the way.

We move to the living room without speaking, like the conversation needs the safety of open space. I sit on one end of the sofa. He sits beside me, closer than I expected, but neither of us moves.

The house creaks. The motion light hums. The memory of the box on the counter sits just out of sight.

“You don’t have to do everything alone.” His voice is rougher than usual.

“I know,” I whisper. But being with him tonight feels like an unlocked door that should stay deadbolted for safety. I want him here, and that scares me.

Our hands rest on the cushion between us. Mine shifts first, barely. His fingers meet mine when I close the distance. Not a brush. Not something we can ignore.

He stills. I feel it in the way his hand tightens under mine. He doesn’t pull away, not right away. My pulse stutters.

He turns toward me, slower this time. “You were shaking.”

“I was scared.” Admitting it isn’t as hard as I’d expected. I don’t usually admit to weakness.

“I know.” His hand settles over mine, steady, warm. Not asking. Not taking. Just there. The space between us shifts.

“I know.” His hand rests over mine, steady, warm. Not asking. Not taking. Just there. The space between us shifts.

My breath catches. He leans in slowly, not sudden, not certain, giving me time to move if I want to. His perfect mouth is inches from mine.

I don’t move. I can’t. I’ve wanted to kiss Xavier for longer than I can remember, so standing still feels easy. It feels right. It feels like something I’ve wanted longer than I should admit.

But if this happens, it doesn’t stay small. My heartbeat thuds against my ribs. It doesn’t stay safe. And he doesn’t stay. At the last second, I turn my face away.

His breath brushes my cheek instead of my mouth. We both go still. Close enough to feel it. Close enough to know exactly what almost happened.

He exhales and leans back, his hand wrapped around mine. “Sorry.”

“I’m not.” My voice comes out shaky. The truth hangs between us, fragile and unfinished. I pull my hand free before it can mean more than it already does and stand. “You should take the bed.”

“I’m fine on the couch.”

“It’s not a question.”

“It wasn’t an answer.”