They had been dancing around it for weeks—stolen glances, lingering hands, accidental touches that weren’t really accidents.
But tonight, under the dim lights of the hallway, his fingers brushed hers. That’s all. Just one touch.
Her breath caught. Then she reached for his hand again, like her body had already made the decision her mind was afraid to say.
“No one’s ever made me feel like this,” she whispered.
He moved closer, slowly. “I barely did anything.”
“Exactly,” she said, pulling him closer. “And yet, I can’t stop thinking about it.”