The space between them had filled with everything unsaid, and Maya knew that her biggest threat might be the simple, terrible fact that she was starting to care about people who could never know who she really was.
The rooftop moment wouldn't leave her alone. Every time Maya closed her eyes, she could feel the ghost of Ethan's nearness, the almost-kiss that had hung in the air between them like electricity before he'd pulled away like he'd touched fire. She told herself to forget it, to bury it under the mountain of other secrets she carried, but it clung to her thoughts with the persistence of smoke that wouldn't clear.
It didn't mean anything. He doesn't even know what he was feeling. Neither do I.
But the lies felt hollow even in the privacy of her own mind, because she could still remember the way his breathing had changed, the way his hand had started to reach for her before his conscious mind had reasserted control.
