Being with Grace was intoxicating.
For months—years, really—Noah had held himself well outside her personal space, smothering every fleeting impulse to lean closer, touch her arm, brush a curl off her face.
Now, having indulged just a little, he couldn’t get enough.
Following her out of the restaurant, he stretched out his arm to hold the door, seizing the opportunity to keep one hand on her waist. The supersoft material of her shirt begged for more attention, her curls grazing his cheek as she passed through the door. A whiff of what he used to associate with the math lab assaulted his self-control, begging him to bury his face in her hair for more.
Intoxicating.
“So where have you been?” she asked, space forcing itself between them as they moved beyond the exit.
“Huh?” he asked. Smooth. Idiot.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you . . . around.”
How could he explain? He rubbed his hand across his jaw, but that only reminded him how she’d studied his whiskers at the table.
“Noah?”
“Sorry,” he said, shaking off the pleasant buzz of being near her. “Just, uh, processing.” She looked worried. He scrambled to put some processing power toward logical thought and conversation. It was difficult. He looked around the parking lot, realizing he had no idea where he’d parked. He barely remembered the drive there, he’d been so nervous.
She was still waiting for him to answer.
He laughed to cover his embarrassment. “Do you want to go . . . do something? I don’t know what there is to do here.”
“Why are you here?” Her eyes narrowed like they did when she tackled algebra, widening as the pieces clicked together. “You drove all the way here for this. For me.”
Noah shrugged, looking down and shoving his hands into his pockets.
“How long have you and Ryan been . . . talking?” Her voice was soft.
He couldn’t tell if she was impressed or angry. Avoiding her gaze, he gestured to some big trees across the road. “Is that a park? Can we go over there?”
She nodded, gears still clicking, judgment pending.
I’d better get this right.