I tried to convince myself it was nothing.
Just a touch.
People brush against each other all the time.
It didn't mean anything.
It shouldn't mean anything.
But my body refused to agree.
Because even minutes later, I could still feel it.
That brief contact.
That barely-there moment.
It lingered.
Like my skin remembered something my mind was trying to forget.
I shifted slightly in my seat, exhaling under my breath.
Get over it.
This was ridiculous.
I wasn't supposed to react like this.
Not over something so small.
But every time I tried to focus—
My attention drifted back to him.
To the space between us.
To the memory of it.
And then, like he could sense exactly what I was thinking—
He moved.
Just slightly.
But enough for his arm to brush mine again.
This time, it wasn't accidental.
I knew it.
He knew it.
And the worst part?
He didn't move away immediately.
Neither did I.
My breath slowed, then quickened again in the same second.
My thoughts scattered.
Because now, it wasn't just a moment.
It was a choice.
A quiet one.
An unspoken one.
But a choice, nonetheless.
I turned my head slightly, just enough to look at him.
And he was already looking at me.
Of course.
There was no surprise anymore.
Only awareness.
Only that same charged silence that kept building between us.
"You felt that," he said softly.
Not a question.
A statement.
My heart skipped.
I hesitated for a second.
Then—
"…yeah."
It came out quieter than I intended.
But it was honest.
And something about that honesty made everything feel even more real.
He held my gaze for a second longer.
Then that same almost-smile appeared again.
And this time—
It didn't feel subtle anymore