"I wanted to." Harlow clasped her hands in front of her, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. "I always want to. That's kind of my thing. Wanting to do things for people. Making things for people. It's easier than, you know. Talking about feelings. Or admitting that I'm scared."
She hadn't meant to say that last part.
Isaiah's expression shifted again. Deeper. More focused. Like he was really looking at her now, past the twin tails and the pink clips and the smile that everyone assumed was permanent.
"Scared of what?"
Harlow opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"Of losing you."
The words came out smaller than she intended. Quieter. The kind of voice she usually saved for three in the morning when she was alone in her room and the darkness felt heavy enough to crush her.
