They don’t hurt exactly.
They land.
He sees it and curses softly. “That came out wrong.”
“No. It’s true.”
“It’s not all the truth.”
I wait.
He looks at me like he would rather step into traffic than continue.
“There is fake us,” he says. “For Vale. For the town. For anyone watching. And then there is this.”
“This?”
“You and me sitting here at midnight talking about almost kissing.”
My face heats again.
“Right.”
“I don’t know what this is.”
“Neither do I.”
“But it ain’t fake.”
My heart does something stupid.
Derby’s eyes stay on mine. “That’s what we need to be careful with.”
I nod slowly.
Careful.
I’m tired of that word.
I also understand why it hurts.
“I meant what I said in the alley,” he says. “I don’t kiss you until you know.”
“What if I know and it’s still a bad idea?”
He almost smiles. “Most fun things are.”
“Derby.”
“I know.” His face sobers. “Then you say it anyway. Clear.”
I want to kiss you.
The sentence appears in my head so vivid I almost say it out loud.
I don’t.
But he must see it. Or maybe he feels the shape of the silence it leaves.