My gaze drops to our hands, hating how much I like it. Hating how much I want to press our palms together, interlock our fingers, rub my face against the back of his hand. For just a second, there’s no one on this bus but the two of us. I’m safe. If I look at him, will he be watching me or pretending it’s not happening? I curl my finger around his, testing the feeling of it. It’s strange how my heart pounds in my throat at the little touch. I flick my gaze back up to Jeremy’s face to find him watching me from the corner of his eye. No judgment, just comfort and maybe some hesitation.
