Page 62 of True Colors

I give an exaggerated eye roll. “That easily?”

He tips his head back and bursts out laughing. The sound settles inside me like sunlight slipping through my ribcage.

After lunch, we walk along the beach, the late-spring wind working to loosen my braid.

We talk about everything. He tells me about his rotations. He tells me about his sister and his parents.

I listen.

I ask questions.

I don’t stutter.

We keep walking as the sky shifts from pink to lavender to navy.

Behind us, the city lights come on one by one. The ocean hisses steadily against the sand, patient and indifferent.

I catch myself looking at him.

He catches me doing it.

When he drives me home, we’re quiet. It’s a comfortable silence.

Surprising.

The engine purrs to a stop, a lazy hum. He turns to look at me, his hands stay on the steering wheel.

“Thank you f-for today.” My hands twist together in my lap. “It was…b-beautiful.”

Was this a date?

It feels like one.

But I don’t quite know the rules.

“Thank you, Anouk.” His mouth softens into a hint of a smile. “I loved learning about exoplanet atmospheric signatures.”

His gaze holds mine, and something unfamiliar stirs in me.

Arousal.

I’ve never reacted to a man like this before. My history has made closeness complicated. Walls were necessary once. They kept me alive.

But Miss Helen’s voice floats up from my past. “Walls keep you safe, but they also keep people out. And sometimes they trap you.”

“Anouk,” he murmurs huskily.

The space between us changes.

My breath catches.

I’m not sure who moves first. Maybe both of us.

He leans closer.

His hand lifts, hovering near my jaw—close enough to feel the heat of his skin, far enough that I still have a choice.

He waits.