Page 15 of Kisses and Paperclips

She taps her chin as if considering. “Especially you. You strike me as the type who gets away with too much already.”

I let her words settle for a second, watching her eyes hold mine, steady but teased. I’m enjoying how she doesn’t shy away. Letting the weight between us shift but not disappear.

I leaned in, dropping my voice just a fraction.

“That’s why you’re watching me so closely?”

Her lips curve, slow and knowing. “You always have this big a head, or is it just special for me?”

“Just for you,” I murmured, gaze locked on hers.

I should pull back. Give her space. But she doesn’t break, doesn’t fidget under the weight of my attention. Instead, she meets me there, holding the moment between us like she knows exactly what she’s doing with it.

“You always stare this much?” she asked, one brow lifting, teasing, but there’s something else woven in. Curiosity.

I take my time, letting my gaze drop to the curve of her lips before dragging it back up. Letting her feel me looking.

“No,” I said, voice low, words deliberate. “Most things aren’t worth looking at this long.”

Her breath catches—small, almost imperceptible—but I don’t miss it.

The air between us thickens. The bar fades—the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of ice against glass, the slow, honeyed pull of jazz weaving through the space. None of it matters. Not when she’s looking at me like that.

Like she’s already decided something. Like she’s waiting to see if I’ll follow.

Then—

“Man, y’all might wanna go ahead and get a room for the night—if you haven’t already.”

The moment shatters.

I blink, annoyance curling in my chest as I drag my gaze to the bartender. He’s older, salt-and-pepper beard, wiping down the counter like he’s seen a thousand moments like this before.

I narrow my eyes. The hell’s that supposed to mean?

Before I can say anything, he keeps talking.

“Storm came in hard,” he nods toward the doors. “Roads are already icing up. City wasn’t ready—again. No cabs, no Ubers, nothing. If you not tryna sit stuck on Peachtree all night, I’d get real comfortable.” He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Only in Atlanta.”

I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back, forcing the tension out of my muscles. For a second, I thought the old man was about to say something out of pocket—something that would require me to check him. Not that Serena needed my help. She’d already proven she could handle herself, sharp tongue and all.

But still.

Something about her put me on high alert. Like some instinct buried deep in my bones had decided—without my permission—that keeping an eye on her was now my problem.

I glanced over at her, and just like that, I felt it. The shift.

It wasn’t obvious. Not something anyone else would notice. But I did.

Her grip on her phone tightened slightly as her eyes scanned the screen; a slow inhale and exhale, as if preparing for something.

“Damn.” The curse slipped from her lips, so soft I almost missed it. A muscle ticked in my jaw.

“Serena.” My voice dropped, low and steady. Controlled. “What’s wrong?”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. “Serena.” My voice dipped low, steady, controlled. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answered.

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