And hours later I still felt him buzzing in my skull, as if my brain wanted to hold on to precious fragments of him. The way he pulled at the hem of his shirt to wipe his glasses clean. His large hand around mine. The acquisitiveness in his eyes. And then Florence’s interruption. She’d looked so surprised and hurt to see us together, and Eli had made things worse by staring defiantly at her until she’d averted her eyes. Retreating was such an un-Florence-like behavior, I couldn’t make sense of it, nor could I understand why Harkness seemed to be treating Kline like their own personal
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