didn’t give a shit, because even if she’d completely fucked up his hair it would be worth it. Worth it to sit there for a while and have the full force of her exhilarating focus. Worth it to feel that electric thrill when she ran her fingers through his hair…
“What if I could take your picture without you knowing?” he asked suddenly. His mouth had decided to run away again. He’d be giving the thing a stern talking to. There is no I in team, mouth. And talking shit like this is not going to result in the outcome you so clearly want. Give it up.
He had a feeling his mouth would never listen, though. It did, after all, belong to him.
She arched her brows, standing in front of him with those scissors still in hand. “Like… when I’m not looking?”
“So you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. That helps people, sometimes.”
She shrugged. “I think I’d know, even if I couldn’t see you. I feel it when—when people look at me.” Hannah faltered for a moment, but her next words were smooth as silk. “You’re welcome to try, though. Don’t blame me if you end up disappointed.”
He stood, an odd sort of anticipation spreading through his body like low heat. He had permission. His rogue mouth had actually done something useful. Unbelievable. “We’ll see,” he said. “I might surprise you.”
She gave him a wry look over her shoulder as she walked towards the house. “I am rarely surprised.”
And he, after grabbing the chair they’d dragged outside, followed like the obsessed mess that he was. “Then I’ll definitely surprise you. Someone has to.”
She snorted. “Good luck. You’re covered in hair, so brush it off before you come into the kitchen.”
Nate shrugged and put the chair down on the patio, pulling off his T-shirt. He probably should’ve done that before, to be honest, but he hadn’t been thinking. Or rather, he’d been too busy thinking about Hannah. He shook the shirt out on the concrete, then followed her inside.
And found her leaning against the kitchen island, staring at him as if she’d been frozen.
“What?” he asked.
She continued to stare.
“Hannah. What?”
Her name seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. Her lips pressed into a tight line, and he watched her throat shift as she swallowed. “Nothing!” she said brightly, and turned to hurry off.
Which struck him as exactly the sort of thing Hannah would do if, say, the apocalypse was nigh, but she didn’t want to worry anyone.
So Nate reached out to take her hand, tugging her gently to a stop. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He reeled her in closer, frowning at the odd expression on her face. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes I am.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m just worried about you running around half-naked all the time. You’ll catch your death.”
“…It’s at least twenty degrees outside.”
“But it’s about to rain!”
“Hannah, we’re in the house.”
She spluttered for a moment, looking completely un-Hannah-like and thoroughly adorable. Finally, she burst out, “I think you might be anaemic.”
“Why would I be anaemic?” And what does that have to do with my shirt?
“You’re so pale!”
He laughed. “Ouch.”
“Oh, stop it. I didn’t mean it like that. You look…”
Nate arched a brow. “Terrible? I feel like we’ve covered this before.”
“What? No. You don’t think that, do you?” The strange expression on Hannah’s face turned to worry, that little arrow appearing between her brows as she frowned. “You’re gorgeous.”
He almost collapsed in shock. The words were unbelievable enough, coming from Hannah of all people. But even better was the way she slapped her hands to her cheeks after she said it, like a character in a play. She spun away from him, her hair whipping through the air.
“Oh dear,” she muttered to herself. “Why, Hannah, why?”
Good fucking question. Because he really didn’t think Hannah came out with statements like that very often. Especially not accidentally. An impossible explanation flashed into his head, bright enough to leave him blinking rapidly. Really, it was more of a fantasy—maybe a side-effect of excessive shower masturbation—than an explanation. Yet something wicked and hopeful coiled inside him, urging him to ask… “Hannah, do you—?“
“There is really no need to finish that sentence,” she said. Her voice wasn’t cool and calm as usual. It was clipped in a way that told him, loud and clear, how nervous she was.
Which made Nate actually consider that the impossible explanation he’d dreamt up was more than just wishful thinking. And then she turned to face him, her expression somewhere between