"You're nervous," Grayson said.
Neville's attention snapped back to Grayson's eyes and said, "I'm not."
"But why are your hands sweating?" Grayson pointed out with a playful tone.
From the corner of Grayson was the floor-to-ceiling window. Neville could see a meteor shower, dropping from the sky. But to him, it felt like the meteor shower became a star and enhanced Grayson's handsome face.
"It's naturally sweaty," Neville said, trying to stay calm.
"Is that so?" As if trying to confirm if it was true, Grayson reached a finger on the underside of his wrist, feeling his pulse.
Neville couldn't stop his eyes from drifting down to watch the motion.
They looked wrong wrapped around Neville's smaller hand.
Wrong in a way that felt terrifyingly right.
His gaze began to burn Neville, making him stifling his breathing.
Grayson noticed every micro-expression that flickered across Neville's face. The slight parting of his lips. The almost undetectable tremor in his captured hand.
