She doesn’t hesitate.
She sits on my lap.
The world narrows instantly.
My hands hover awkwardly, unsure where to go. Not touching her feels deliberate. Touching her feels impossible.
She smells faintly of citrus and something softer underneath. Something warm.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asks.
She’s close enough that I can see the tiny scar just above her eyebrow. Close enough that I can feel the heat of her through both our clothes.
I try to answer.
Nothing comes out.
She grins, entirely unbothered by my silence, and reaches forward to steal a chip from my plate.
“Oh, thank god. I’m starving.”
She eats it without ceremony, completely at ease.
My heart is beating too fast.
I am aware of everything. The weight of her. The warmth of her thigh against mine. The way her fingers rest briefly at the back of my neck for balance.
The rest of the pub fades.
There is only her.
She picks up another chip and holds it out to me.
“Open.”
I stare at it.
Then at her.
Her eyes soften slightly, like she’s waiting to see what I’ll do.
I shake my head because I’m not sure if I will be able to swallow anything.
“Be a good boy and open,” she coos like I’m five years old.
I open my mouth on command.
She feeds the chip to me.
Her fingers brush my lower lip.
It lasts less than a second.
It stays much longer.
She laughs quietly, like she’s pleased with herself, and stands, moving away as easily as she arrived.
Air returns to my lungs.