"Fair point." I guide her around a puddle. “Not to mince words, but your dancing form suggests some unresolved feelings about that responsibility."
"Says the man over-critiquing my form.”
“We’re in this together, remember? ‘Trauma twins’?” I echo her words from that fateful Vegas night, curling my fingers.
She laughs, then sobers. "It's just... a lot sometimes, you know? Being the one everyone depends on?"
"I do know." I stop walking, turning to face her. "But you don't have to handle it alone."
"Connor..."
"I mean it." I step closer, too close for professional anything. "Let me help."
Her breath catches. "That's dangerous."
"I'm okay with dangerous."
"Are you?" She tilts her head. "Because I’m not an idiot, Mr. Reeves.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means…you’re famous in these Seattle tech circles. I’ve learned enough about you in the last few weeks to know that Connor Reeves doesn't do relationships. Or feelings. Or anything that might compromise what he’s built for himself.”
"Maybe I'm willing to make an exception."
She blinks, brows furrowed. “Why?"
Because you make me laugh. Because you dance like you’ve got two left feet and it’s adorable. Because something about you makes me want to break all my rules.
Before I can answer, her phone buzzes.
FRANK (DOORMAN): Ms. Bristol? You might want to get home soon. There's a... situation.
"What kind of situation?" she types back.
FRANK: I’d rather wait for you to arrive, ma’am
"Oh no." She shows me the screen. "This can't be good."
"Only one way to find out." I hold out my hand. "Coming?"
She looks at it for several seconds before reaching for it. “Okay.”
I tug her gently, and we make a run through the cherry blossom night, laughing like goddamn teenagers, her hand warm in mine. And for the first time in a very long time, I'm not thinking about boundaries at all.
I'm just thinking about her.
14
PACKAGES AND PEACE OFFERINGS
ARIANA
"I swear to god," I mutter as Connor and I race up the stairs to my apartment, "if this is another Elvis-themed anything..."
"You mean you don't want more sequined kitchen appliances?" Connor keeps pace beside me, not even slightly winded. Show-off. "I thought the waffle iron was growing on you."
"The waffle iron tried to play 'Suspicious Minds' at three in the morning." I fumble with my keys. "My neighbors filed a noise complaint."
