Chapter 8: Close Enough to Hurt
Tuesday evening, and the apartment felt smaller than usual.
I was sitting at the desk, trying to focus on my notes, but my mind kept wandering to Alex.
He appeared behind me, stretching slightly, and I felt the brush of his arm against mine.
I froze, my pen hovering over the page.
"Long day?" he asked quietly, leaning against the desk.
"Yeah… just a lot to finish," I muttered, avoiding his gaze.
He leaned a little closer, close enough that I could feel his warmth on my back.
My chest tightened.
I wanted to turn, to look at him, but my hands wouldn't move.
Then, almost teasingly, he rested his hand lightly on the edge of mine.
Not holding. Not touching fully.
Just… hovering.
My pulse raced.
Every instinct screamed at me to pull away.
And yet… I didn't.
"Alex… I…" I tried to speak, but the words got stuck.
He smiled faintly, that soft, unreadable expression that made my heart ache.
"Shh," he whispered, leaning just slightly closer. "It's okay."
The proximity was dizzying.
I could feel the heat of his body, the rhythm of his breathing.
We were two people, so close, yet still apart.
After a long, tense moment, I finally turned and grabbed my notes, needing to escape the intensity.
Alex didn't move.
He just watched me, eyes calm but alert, as if daring me to notice how much I wanted him.
The city lights outside the window flickered, casting shadows across the room.
And I realized…
every small touch, every near contact, was leaving a mark I couldn't ignore.
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