It happened in the narrowest of spaces. The bench wasn’t built for two people to sit so close, but neither of them suggested moving. Their shoulders brushed—at first, just lightly, the kind of accidental contact that could be excused. But she didn’t shift away.
Instead, she drew in a slow breath, her lips pressing together before her teeth caught the lower one. That small gesture—biting her lip—betrayed everything she was trying not to say aloud. Her eyes flickered downward, avoiding his gaze, but the tension in her body spoke louder than words. She wasn’t uncomfortable. She was savoring it.
He felt the heat spread where their shoulders touched, an electric current that seemed to thrum straight into his chest. He told himself to lean back, to give her the space she deserved, the space he needed to maintain control. But he didn’t move. His body stayed still, betraying his conscience.
When she finally glanced up, her lips were still caught between her teeth. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, daring, questioning. She released her lip slowly, her breath unsteady, then whispered, “Sorry—too close?”
He should have said yes. Should have shifted away, broken the tension with distance. Instead, his throat tightened, and the word never came. His silence was louder than an answer.
She noticed. Her smile deepened, and she let her shoulder press more firmly against his, the heat of her body a steady reminder of what they were both pretending not to want. Her hand rested lightly on her thigh, fingers drumming once, twice, before drifting closer to his leg—not touching, not yet, but near enough that he felt the pull.
He forced himself to breathe, to think, but the rhythm of it was broken by the sound of her exhale, soft and deliberate, brushing against his ear. Every nerve in his body ached for more, though his mind screamed restraint.
“Funny,” she said quietly, “you haven’t moved.”
The words landed between them like a challenge. He met her gaze then, and in her eyes, he saw it—desire laced with daring, the silent question of how far he was willing to let this go.
Their shoulders remained pressed together, neither giving an inch. She bit her lip again, slower this time, her gaze steady, unflinching. And when she didn’t turn away, he realized the danger wasn’t in the accidental brush of their shoulders.
The danger was in how much they both wanted it not to end.