The noodles are barely warm anymore, but I keep twirling them around the chopsticks just to keep my hands busy. Because if I don’t… I’ll end up reaching for her.

She’s sitting on the floor across from me, talking about something — I should be listening, but my mind is stuck on the way her eyes keep finding mine between words. Every time they do, my chest feels tight, like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.

I lean forward slightly, pretending to be interested in the food, but it’s her I’m studying. The way she leans back against the couch, how her hair falls forward when she tilts her head. She doesn’t even have to try and she still pulls every thought out of me.

“Want some?” I ask, holding the cup toward her. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. She hesitates, then leans in just enough to take it from me — and I swear the air between us shifts.

Her fingers brush mine, light and quick, but it’s enough to make me forget about the noodles entirely. I let go before she can notice the way my hand lingers.

I watch her take the first bite, my lips pressing together to hide the smile tugging at them. She has no idea how close I am to just… closing the space between us.