"Some things will never change, I guess," I smiled.
Zack's hand was at my waist, and he was unconsciously playing with a belt loop on my jeans. Somehow, today I was hypersensitive to his touch, and it was all I could concentrate on. He kept twisting the thin strip of denim around his finger, then releasing it, twisting and letting go. The first time he slipped two fingers into the loop and rubbed the rough material of my jeans in that spot, I jumped a little (but not away from him) and my head snapped up from its spot on his shoulder. Our bodies ended up closer together.
He looked at me, his golden eyes surprised. "What?" he said.
"Nothing," I said, because somehow I didn't want him to stop. A few seconds later he began fiddling with it again.
"Oh," he said with a start, laughing. "I'm
