Page 29 of Having Henley
Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the book she’s holding and pull it from her hands. She lets it go, and her arms hover there for a moment before dropping awkwardly to hang at her sides.
I move closer, reaching past her to slide the book back into its space on the shelf. Hand still resting on its spine, arm angled over her shoulder, I look down at her. She’s looking up at me, her eyes wide. Unsure. Gaze settled on my ear. I could kiss her if I wanted to.
And I want to.
But I don’t. I can’t. Because she’s about two seconds away from bolting and if she leaves now, she’ll never come back.
And if that happens, if she never comes back, I don’t think I’ll ever feel this way again.
Real.
So, I tilt my head down and bring my mouth as close to her ear as I possibly can without touching her and do the only thing I can.
I tell her the truth.
“Same.”
