Chapter 5: Close Enough to Feel
Saturday morning was quiet, almost too quiet.
Sunlight streamed through the window, casting warm patterns across the floor.
I found Alex in the kitchen, methodically making breakfast. The way he moved—careful, precise—made it impossible not to watch.
"Morning," I said, trying for casual.
He didn't reply right away.
Instead, he slid a plate toward me. "Toast."
"Thanks," I muttered, my fingers brushing his as I took the plate.
Even such a small touch made my heart race.
I looked up. He was pretending not to notice, but I caught a flicker of awareness in his eyes.
We ate in silence, the kind that felt heavy, electric, charged with all the things neither of us said.
After breakfast, I carried my mug to the living room.
Alex was already there, sitting on the couch, reading.
I hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to him.
Our shoulders brushed.
A tiny spark shot through me.
He didn't flinch. Didn't pull away.
Instead, he shifted slightly closer, just enough for our arms to nearly touch.
I swallowed hard, trying to act normal.
He glanced at me, eyes soft, almost… warm.
A faint smile touched his lips, the kind that made my chest tighten unexpectedly.
I wanted to speak, to say something—anything—but my throat went dry.
For a long moment, we just sat there.
Close enough to feel the presence of the other.
Close enough to wonder if this quiet, slow intimacy could ever turn into something more.
Sunlight danced across the floor, illuminating the small apartment, and for a brief, perfect second, it felt like the world outside didn't exist—just the two of us, sitting side by side, dangerously close.
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