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All those ordinary little moments that shouldn't mean anything. Except they do. And I'm starting to think they always will.

“Where'd you go?” Her voice pulls me back.

I blink. “What?”

“You got quiet.”

I brush my knuckles along her cheek. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

I hesitate. Then give her a small piece of the truth. “About how long I've wanted to do this.”

Her breath catches. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“How long?”

I could tell her.

Tell her about North Pines.

About that dance.

About the picture I've kept tucked away where nobody would find it.

But that's a conversation that deserves more than a few distracted sentences in the middle of a night like this.

“Longer than I should've,” I admit.

She studies me, then reaches for the first button of my shirt. “Funny.”

“What's funny?”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” Her fingers work the button free. Then the next. I watch her, letting her take her time. When she reaches the middle of my chest, she pauses. “You can tell me to stop.”

I almost laugh. “Not fucking likely.”

She looks up. “Bishop.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm nervous.”

That sobers me.

I cover her hands with mine. “Okay.”

“Not because I don't want to.”

“I know.”

“It's just...” She glances down at my shirt. “I haven't done a lot of this.”

I wait.

She takes a breath. “I've been with someone before. Two people, actually. In college. But neither time was anything serious.”