“YOU’RE RIDICULOUS,” Katie said as they walked towards the locker rooms. They were holding hands, though she couldn’t remember when that had started or who had taken whose hand first. Physical contact with Brendan was a lot like breathing: Almost constant, rarely conscious, always natural.
“You love me for it.”
“You’re also an asshole,” Katie said fondly.
“Probably.” Brendan gave her a teasing, sidelong smile. His thumb slid across the inside of her wrist in a gesture that he probably wasn’t aware of, though it made goosebumps stand up on her arm.
She gently disentangled their hands so she wasn’t tempted to do something ill-advised. Like press her lips to the hollow of his throat and taste his skin, salty with sweat. They were getting back on the horse with skating, and so long as they
