I looked at him instead of the house. The glow behind him lit the edges of his hair and turned the brown strands almost copper. “I think my bed is calling my name. The party can survive without me tonight.”
Bennet lifted his brows. “Since when does a hotshot like you skip parties?”
“Since Peanut gets too excited when the whole house turns loud. He’ll bark at every new person who walks in. I should keep him calm tonight. I’m tired anyway.”
“That sounds surprisingly responsible.”
“Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
A faint smile curved his mouth. He dipped his chin a little and pushed his glasses up, even though they hadn’t slipped. That single gesture made my stomach flip like a coin tossed into the air. It caught me completely off guard. I rubbed the back of my neck and tried to act normal.
We stood at the end of the walkway, just outside the reach of the porch light. The vines along the railings swayed gently. The faint scent of cold leaves drifted by. It felt like a moment that should have ended, but neither one of us moved.
Bennet shifted his weight. His voice came quieter. “I do wish my house had a pet. Something soft that runs around and makes everyone feel welcome. All we have is Rodrigo’s cactus garden, which tries to kill us every few weeks.”
“Peanut would love the Thinkers’ House. He’d stick his head in every room and wag himself into a frenzy.”
“We’d fail all our assignments with that level of distraction.”
“You say that like it would be a bad thing.”
Bennet let out a tiny breath that almost counted asa laugh. He looked toward the house again, then back at me, and I couldn’t ignore how his eyes lingered a moment too long. It didn’t feel accidental. It felt like the air thinned between us.
His gaze dropped to my sweater. “You still smell like the field.”
“Grass or sweat?”
“Grass. Mostly.”
“That’s the best compliment I’ve received all week.”
Bennet rolled his eyes, but his cheeks warmed again. He tried to hide it by tucking his chin into the scarf, but the small change in color betrayed him. I felt something in my own body respond to it. A recognition. A quiet wanting. It rose slowly and spread like the warmth from a fire.
He cleared his throat. “Well. You made it home.”
I looked at him without moving. “Walk me to the door.”
“You don’t need someone to walk you ten steps.”
“I know.”
His breath caught. He hesitated. Then he stepped forward with a small nod. We walked together to the porch steps. He moved with that careful posture he always carried, but there was something more relaxed in his steps now. Something that hadn’t been there when we first met. I wanted to think I’d put it there.
The porch light cast both of our shadows across the boards, and leaves rustled near the columns. I could hear the low hum of the party echoing through thewalls, but the sound felt far away. The night wrapped around us with a strange sense of privacy.
I stopped at the door. Bennet stopped beside me. His shoulder almost touched mine. He looked at the door, then at me. His lips parted as if he meant to say something, but nothing came. The tension pressed in from every angle. It felt like standing at the edge of something I had never named.
I broke the silence first.
“Thanks for walking me home.”
He nodded. “I didn’t walk you home. You walked me to your house.”
“Still counts.”
He shifted his weight. His eyes searched my face, not boldly, but in quick glances that felt like a hand brushing over my jaw and pulling away. There was caution in his look, but there was something else, too. Curiosity. Something warm that slipped through the cracks in his composure.
I felt that warmth hit me like a pulse under my sweater. “You really enjoyed tonight,” I said, quieter than I planned.