The space between them dwindled to a breath. She could see every fleck of gold in his eyes now, the subtle hitch of his throat as he swallowed. The faint scent of smoke and steel clung to him, grounding and familiar, and her heart pounded so loudly she thought he might hear it.
His hand which was resting on the table inched closer until his fingers brushed hers, making her breath hitch and her mind go spiral. She could not even move her head away, afraid he would notice how flustered she was if he did not noticed it already.
For a moment, he leaned in, close enough that her lashes fluttered, close enough that the next word might have been a kiss.
And Ilaria could not help it. She tightened her grip on the bench, her fingers that was on the table curling tightly and she swore her legs have lost their function. Her heart was beating so loud she knew he could hear it by the proximity.
Oh my— Saints, what should I do? What should I do?!
