“You always pace when you’re thinking.” Chris’s voice breaks through the quiet. He’s leaning against the frame of the doorway in his flight suit, sleeves pushed to his elbows, hands in his pockets like he’s trying not to touch you yet.

You pause. He just smiles. “Sorry. I’m observing. Occupational hazard.”

He steps in. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just intentional. “You know… I’ve been in the middle of spacewalks with 30 seconds of oxygen left. My heart never raced like it does when you look at me like that.”

Your breath catches. He notices. He always does. Fingers brush your wrist pulse point. His favorite place. “That’s not science. That’s you.”

And just when you think he’ll kiss you, he pulls back with a grin that could rewrite every law of attraction in the known universe. “So… you gonna let me run an experiment?” His tone drops, low and slow. “One where I find out how many ways I can make you forget the gravity under your feet?”