The whole day felt like walking on a live wire.
They avoided being in the same room for longer than necessary. Breakfast was quick—Amara at one end of the kitchen table, Caleb at the other, coffee mugs between them like barriers. Every time their eyes met, the air crackled. She caught him staring at her mouth while she ate toast. He caught her watching the way his throat worked when he swallowed. Neither said a word about it.
Hallways were worse. Brushing past each other—shoulder to chest, hip to hip—felt deliberate. Electric. Her n****e grazed his arm through her thin tank top once; he sucked in a breath like she’d burned him. She felt the heat bloom low in her belly every single time.
By afternoon the tension was unbearable. She stayed upstairs pretending to unpack boxes. He disappear
