“You don’t need to be nervous,” I tell him. His Adam’s apple slides in his throat. “What makes you think I’m nervous?” “The way you’re avoiding me like I have the plague.” There’s no frustration in my voice, no judgment—it’s just a keen observation. “Okay, maybe you make me a little nervous,” Hayes admits, unwrapping his sandwich. “I do?” I cock my head to the side, genuine curiosity breaking over the syllables. “You do,” he reaffirms, covering my hand with his. “You’re amazing, Aeris. You’re one of my favorite people to be around. I’m not going to say you always know what to say, but you
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