“I’m beginning to think you enjoy using that word.”
Stefan tilted his head. “Which one?”
“Good.”
He gave a small shrug. “I use it when it applies.”
“And when it doesn’t?”
Stefan’s gaze held mine. “Then I say nothing.”
I wrapped my fingers around the mug, welcoming its heat. Suddenly, everything felt a little less steady than it had a moment ago.
I cleared my throat. “And what happens if I don’t do what you expect?”
Stefan didn’t answer immediately. He reached for his own coffee, taking another measured sip before setting it down again.
“That depends on whether you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
My pulse raced. “And what are the right reasons?”
Stefan’s expression didn’t change. “Yours.”
I sipped my coffee, the caffeine barely registering.
Coffee didn’t feel nearly strong enough for the day I was about to have.
I followed Stefan out the door, and the icy morning air felt like a slap compared to the warmth of the café.
He pointed towards the main road. “Let’s head to Nollendorfplatz.”
We started walking, falling easily into step, settling into a rhythm. I was aware of everything again: the people passing us by, the sound of traffic and trains…
And him. Always him.
Our hands moved at the same time, fingers brushing accidentally—then stilling.
I didn’t hesitate. I turned my hand slightly. Beside me, Stefan’s step faltered, and he glanced at me.
I met his gaze. I wasn’t about to pretend or retreat.
Then his hand shifted, a deliberate motion as he closed the space between our fingers, the contact warm and certain.
We kept walking, neither of us commenting on it. After a few steps, Stefan adjusted his grip, the movement subtle, controlled.
“You’re not holding back today,” he said after a minute or two.
I exhaled. “No.”
There was a pause. “Good.”
There it was again, that word.
I glanced at him. “What about you?”
Stefan smiled. “I told you. I don’t ignore things that interest me.”
My pulse notched up. “That’s becoming very clear.”