His muscles become tense and tight like a rod is passing through his shoulder blades. His hand hovers over the machine as he slowly turns to stare at her. It feels like an hour passes as they lock eyes: his gaze soft and easy, but his eyes?
His eyes hold a storm of thoughts and confusion, and she sees the struggle in his eyes and the fluttering of his lips like he wants to speak to her. He opens his mouth and it hangs for a few seconds before he shakes his head and turns back to the machine.
Her eyes squint as he packs the papers and rapidly counts through them. Her mouth opens, ready to repeat the question for emphasis, but she hesitates. Her brows arch in confusion and she feels something strange, something she didn't know she could ever feel for Zane at this point in her life: worry.
