"Maya."
"Yeah?"
"Stop talking."
She stopped.
They lay there in the grass, breathing together, the forest filtering afternoon light around them in shifting patterns of gold and green.
Somewhere far away, a bell rang—probably signaling the end of some period neither of them cared about.
Maya slowly, carefully, rolled off him. But she didn't go far. She curled onto her side in the grass, close enough that as Phei stretched his arm out, she could—
She did.
Pillowed her head on his bicep like it was the most natural thing in the world. Snuggled closer. Let out a small sigh of contentment that did something dangerous to his chest.
And then—so subtle he almost missed it—she turned her face slightly into his arm and inhaled.
Was she smelling him?
She was. She was absolutely smelling him, her eyes half-closed, her expression soft and dreamy, breathing in his scent like it was oxygen she needed to survive.
It should have been weird.
It wasn't.
