My hand, almost unconsciously, stretched out toward the center of the seat, occasionally making contact with Chloe’s fingertips. Her doing. She’d made it clear the other night that as long as I was the one doing the rejecting, I wasn’t allowed to also do the flirting. I supposed that was fair. I couldn’t have it both ways. I took my forehead off of the window and looked over at her. Her gaze was on the view of the body of water just a football field’s distance from us, and when she used the hand that wasn’t playing with mine to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, I could see her smiling.
