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"Am I distracting you right now?"

"You've been distracting me for three days straight." The honesty came spilling out before I could stop it. "I can't sleep. Can't focus. Keep replaying—" I stopped.

"Keep replaying what?"

"You know what."

The air between us was thick with unspoken words. With memories. With the weight of what we'd almost done and couldn't attempt again.

"I can't stop thinking about it either," Harper admitted quietly. "About you. About that kiss. About how close we were to—" She shook her head. "This is torture."

"I know."

"We said we were going to be friends."

"We are friends."

"Friends don't look at each other the way you're looking at me right now."

"How am I looking at you?"

"Like you're remembering exactly what I taste like." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Like you're thinking about all the things we didn't get to do."

I was. God, I was thinking about all of it. About finishing what we'd started. About getting her alone somewhere private and taking my time instead of desperately grinding against her in someone's kitchen.

"Harper—"

"Don't. Please don't say anything that's going to make this harder." She finished her drink in one long swallow. "I need another one. Want anything?"

"Just water."

She signaled the bartender, and while we waited, we stood in a heavy sort of silence. The kind of silence that screamed everything we weren't saying.

Her new drink arrived. She took a sip, then looked at me with eyes that held too much. "Can I ask you what you're feeling right now?"

"About what?"

"About us. About this. About the fact that we're standing here trying to have a normal conversation when we both know—" She stopped. "When we both know this isn't normal friendship behavior."

I should've deflected. Should've made a joke or changed the subject. But there was raw honesty in her voice that made me match it.

"I'm feeling like I made the biggest mistake of my life when I let you walk away the other night." The words came out completely unguarded. "I'm feeling like being near you is the best and worst thing that's ever happened to me. I'm feeling like every time you laugh at what I say, every time you look at me like you're doing right now, I want to find the nearest private space and finish what we started."

Harper's pupils dilated. "Cam—"

"You asked what I'm feeling. I'm feeling like I'm losing my mind. Like I want you so badly I can't think straight. Like three days wasn't nearly enough time to get you out of my system, and I'm terrified I never will."

"You can't say things like that to me." Her voice shook. "Not when you know we can't—"

"I know. I'm sorry. I just—" I ran my hand through my hair, frustrated. "Being around you makes me forget all the reasons I should be careful."

"That makes two of us."

The silence stretched again.

"Tell me how you're feeling," I said. "It's only fair."

She was quiet for a long moment, studying her drink. "I'm feeling like I want to be understanding about where you are. About the fact that you're still figuring out what coming out means for you, what it would cost you. I know that takes courage. I know you're not a coward just because you're not ready." She looked up at me. "But I'm also feeling like we're at completely different places in our journeys. You're still in a place where being private feels necessary. I'm past that stage. I can't go backward. And that means we're incompatible in ways that matter, even though it kills me to say it."