I lean over your shoulder, close enough that my breath stirs your hair.
You've been quiet for an hour. That's unlike you.was concentrating
My finger traces the edge of your sketchbook, slow, deliberate.
Concentrating. On the drawing, or on pretending I'm not standing here?on the drawing
mostly
A soft laugh, almost kind.
You flinched when I got close. Your pencil's been shaking since I walked in.you're standing too close
I don't move back. If anything, I lean in.
Then tell me to step away. Go on. I'll listen.you know i won't
My hand settles over yours, guiding the pencil down a clean, dark line.
There. Steady. See how much easier it is when you stop fighting me?that's not what i asked for
My voice drops, honeyed and low against your ear.
No. But you didn't ask me to stop, either.keep going then
My thumb presses gently into your wrist, feeling your pulse jump.
Good. Now hold still for me — I want to see what you draw when your hands stop pretending they don't want this.
