Page 27 of Their Arrangement
His shoulder brushed mine—not hard, not aggressive. Just… deliberate. Enough to unmoor me.
His breath grazed my cheek. Warm. Sharp. It smelled like mint and smoke and something darker. Something that didn’t belong in the air but lived in it anyway.
I froze.
Turned, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
But he was already gone.
Like he’d never been there at all.
The hallway was empty.
But my body wasn’t.
My hands shook.
I clutched my notebook like it could steady me, like it might absorb the heat crawling across my skin. It didn’t help. I walked—unsteady now—back to my desk. The sad little space at the end of the hall. No drawers. No privacy. No dignity.
Just a chair that hated me and a screen that refused to load.
I sat down.
The screen was still frozen.
Still blinking.
Still mocking me with its eternal spin.
I didn’t care.
Because all I could think about was Wolfe.
The look on his face—if it had been a look.
The pressure of his shoulder against mine.
The heat that lingered after he left. As if his silence was still touching me.
I hated it.
I hated him.
I hated that I couldn’t stop wondering?—
What would he have said, if he had stopped?
If he had leaned in close and spoken just behind my ear?
Would it have been cruel?
Would it have been quiet?
Would it have been something like?—
You don’t walk like you belong here, but your body tells a different story.
The thought made meflinch.
