He stands, silent, staring at my mouth. Then, slowly, he takes a step closer. For once, he doesn’t leave like he always seems to when I get close. He doesn’t run. He stays. “I think…” he says hoarsely, leaning a little closer. I lean a little closer, too. “You think…?” Axel swallows roughly as his fingertips brush mine. It’s the faintest touch, but it seismic-booms through me, in tempo with the music, as if it’s the soundtrack to this tenuous, almost-something-moment. “I think,” he whispers, “I have a new appreciation for charades.” My mouth falls open in surprise. The silent giant just
...more
