Bash strolls a few feet into the space before he turns back to face me, hands in his pockets. He almost seems… nervous? Is it possible that my stalker is just as anxious about having me here as I am about being here? “This is home,” he announces, leaning his shoulder against one of the wood columns, a cocky gleam in his light eyes. Nope, I was wrong before. This man is definitely showing off.
