Standing this close, I am trying to breathe normally, trying to ignore how my heart rate has kicked up, how his touch has left behind a deliciously burning trail, and it’s ridiculous. I don’t usually react this way even when I’m making out with a boyfriend half-naked in his bedroom. And Hall and I aren’t even being physical! All he’s doing is barely touching me, watching me like . . . perhaps my pupils are dilating, too, like he hardly registers the play of light on my own face because he’s becoming illuminated to other parts of me instead.

His eyes are liquid, attention dipping to my mouth. My heart accelerates. But then he smiles brightly, and it dissipates the haze; my vision’s blurred his edges into the sunlight like a red-hot aura.

“What do you think?” he wants to know.

Oh, right. The whole bringing-me-to-the-sunrise-and-watching-it thing. A necessary experience, in his opinion. I haven’t been able to bring myself to look away from Hall.

“Very romantic.” My stomach drops. I wish I could rewind time like Hall can. “Kidding! Just kidding.”

The tiniest of furrows creases his brow.

I rip my gaze away. Teller City is aglow, its hues and the depths of its buildings transformed by the sun, each rooftop a canary diamond. Bursts of orange peek between mountains, low-drifting clouds haloed with it. Hall was absolutely right to lament that I’ve never watched this part of the day unfold. “I thought it would be indistinguishable from sunset, but it’s really not,” I marvel. “There’s a difference, isn’t there?”

The white roads are unmarred by tire tracks or exhaust, no cars in motion from what I can see. Hall leans so close that the curling ends of his hair brush my temple. Whispers low and conspiratorial, breath ghosting over my lips, “There is. New beginnings are special. We’re the only ones awake, watching the sky come alive.” He pulls back just enough to view my reaction, the heat of his gaze pinning me in place. “Very romantic . . .” His gaze skitters lower again, glancing off the hollow between my collarbones. “As you said.”

I think he’s teasing, but it’s hard to be sure. My mouth quivers slightly, as it does sometimes when I’m flustered and I like someone but I don’t know if they feel the same, so I desperately don’t want to be found out. “I—”

“If I’m going to be murdered, I want witnesses,” someone cuts in loudly, and I whirl in alarm, breaking Hall’s hold. Felix and Sean have wandered into the living room. “You have to pick Marilou up from the airport for me. I can’t be alone with her.”

I slide a hand up the nape of my neck, cheeks heating. What in the world were we doing? I remind myself, before I can start to feel too special, that he hugs everyone. He’s a zealous hugger.

However. I do not think his expression is quite so intent when it comes to everyone else—eyes growing dark, slower to blink. Jaw tightened. Breathing quickened, more uneven.