Page 56 of Over the Edge

I don’t want to back up and apologize, not really. I want to fall into this feeling. But I need to remember that it will pass. This hum of connection that makes me want to have his fingers reenact what they just did on the piano on my body, it will pass. It will pass and we’ll still be friends living in the same city once my time here is over because that’s what we are now.

Friends.At least I hope we are.

He’s what I need, and I can’t ask for more because I’ve already been given more of him than I ever dreamed of.

“It’s okay.” He pulls his hands from the keys to his lap. His eyes map my features, parallel canyons carved between his brows.

“What’s with that face?”

“You’re smiling.”

“As I tend to do,” I say, then nudge my knee into his thigh. He reaches out his hand landing on my folded leg.

“No.” He gives the slightest shake of his head. “This one’s different.”

“Oh.” My heart claws for purchase at the implication.

I take in his face, how he’s looking at me but it feels like he’s looking into me. Everything in me wants to reach out again, to touch him with intention. We created this song together and it’s built some tentative bridge that I want to run across. I want him to let me in more than ever, but not out of pure curiosity anymore. I want to know him. A small voice of wisdom reminds me that I’m probably just associating this rush of feeling from the song with him.

His eyes catch mine, pools of amber that threaten to drown me. Neither of us look away. The moment we do this spell will break. I lean in, so does he, I don’t know who does first.

It’s late. We’re tired. It’s a bad idea.

His forefinger starts to make small circles on my knee. I don’t look down out of fear that if I do, he’ll remember his hand is there and stop.

He’s here. I feel more like myself than I have in ages. I’d be stupid to ignore that he’s made me feel this way.

“Eve,” he says on a breath, and I’m not sure if he’s trying to get my attention or if it slipped out by accident. The tip of his nose grazes my cheek. It’s infinitesimal but sets off a chain reaction of fireworks bursting from the point of contact.

“Yes?” I ask anyway, hoping that I might be the answer.

If I just tilt my head up my lips will brush against the corner of his mouth. That’s all it will take. He breathes and the puff of air tickles my cheek. One small movement to change the course of everything.

I could just lift my face then—

A phone alarm goes off, and I jerk away so quickly that I nearly topple off the side of the stool. Garrett fumbles for his pocket and presses the stop button. When he looks back his eyes flash with panic. The damage is done. Whatever almost happened, that bridge isn’t safe to cross anymore.

“It’s eight,” he says.

“That desperate to get away from me?” I ask but my voice comes out shakier than I would like. “You could stay.”

“I think we’ve hit a perfect stopping point.” Still, he doesn’t move.

“Sure.” My tongue darts out to wet my lips and his eyes track the movement. “I think I need a drink. You know, to celebrate.” Among other reasons.

“A drink. I could go for a drink.” He nods and now it’s my turn to stare as I watch the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I’ll drive?”

“I think I’m going to walk. It’s nice out.” And I don’t need to be stuck in a car with him right now.

“I’ll see you there,” he says as he collects his belongings.

The tapping of his parting footsteps syncopates with the anxious rhythm of my thundering heart.

Before I forget, I get the demo recording ready to send off to Vincent. It’s a relief to have it done, but I’m having a bit of trouble getting excited about the small victory when every atom in my body is vibrating with need. The ghost of our almost kiss sinks its claws into the back of my mind as I listen back to cut the recording at the appropriate spot.

“Eve?”My name sounds more like a plea than it did before.

Then my breathy,“Yes.”

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