Page 12 of Safe Place

I glance at it, then back at him. “What if I take it and run?”

His mouth curves as he takes a step backward. “Then I’ll know I made a terrible mistake trusting you.” Another step, grin widening. “But I’m feeling reckless today.”

“Hm. I’ll think about my next move.”

He just smiles and walks toward the exit.

I can't remember the last time I interacted with someone without it being about class or work. The last time I joked around like this. Or the last time I let my guard down enough to just feel comfortable. I don't let myself dwell on it too long though. I have a bookstore shift right after class, so I need to get as much studying in as I can before then.

“Hey, I’m back,” Micah says twenty minutes later, his voice close behind me. “Miss me?”

I jump, and hope he didn’t notice. “Back already? I was incredibly productive with no distractions.” I say, not looking up.

He laughs. “Incredibly productive. Sure.” He drops into the seat across from me anyway, like he wasn't just gone for twenty minutes. “What'd you get done?”

“More than I would have if you'd stayed.” I glance up with a small smile I don't totally bother hiding.

“Ouch.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I'm wounded.”

“You'll survive. You seem resilient.” I close my laptop and start stacking my notes. “Anyway, I was just about to head out. I can't be late.”

“We have so much time.” He leans back, completely unbothered. “Class isn't for another⁠⁠—“

“I'm an early bird, Micah.” I give him a look. “Some of us like to arrive before the professor.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”

I'm already reaching for my bag when he gets to it first, swinging it over one shoulder and his own backpack over the other like it's nothing. I watch him for a second before I say anything.

“I can carry it.” I reach for the strap. “It's heavy.”

He gives me a look. “Sophie.” His eyes shift to the bag, then back to me. “Have you seen these arms? You really think this is heavy for me?”

I'm almost certain he flexes on purpose. I give him a flat look.

“I'll survive.” He turns toward the door like it's already settled.

We leave the library and head toward Intro to Comm—the only class we have together. He walks beside me, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks, my bag hanging off his shoulder like it weighs nothing. His effortless confidence is still there, softened now by the smile he hasn't quite let go of.

“You really couldn’t stop staring, huh?” he says, voice light but with an unmistakable edge of teasing.

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Wyatt. You kept sneaking looks like he was some kind of celebrity.”

Heat climbs into my cheeks. “I told you I wasn’t staring. He just looked out of place. That’s all.”

Micah raises a brow, grinning. “Out of place because he’s too distractingly attractive?”

I bump his arm lightly with my shoulder. “Yes, but don’t worry. I prefer you.”

His hand flies to his chest in mock sentiment. “I’m honored.”

“He’s too handsome, it’s overwhelming,” I say, trying to sound casual. “You’re easier to be around.”

His smirk flickers, like he wasn’t expecting that. “Wow. Not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“Up to you,” I say with a shrug, trying to hide a smile.