Scarlett had to steady herself, even though she was kneeling. Eric stopped moving, but his arm was still touching hers. Just barely, but it was, maybe just a millimeter of contact she could feel through her whole body. He turned, his face just inches from hers, looking her right in the eye. They were alone in an empty apartment (except for Murray, who had calmed down and was meditatively chewing on the inside of his own thigh).

“Come here often?” he said, slipping into a leer.

Scarlett tried not to smile. A smile would be giving in—to what, she didn’t know. But he kept the face up until she cracked. The wall was down completely.

“Gotcha,” Eric said, clearly very satisfied with himself. He stood, taking the wad of used paper towels into the kitchen to dispose of them. Scarlett grabbed the water and the roll. They shuffled for position at the sink, sharing the soap and the flow of water, washing their hands. But the current passing between them was impossible to ignore. He moved back to make room for her but didn’t leave the small room. He just leaned against the refrigerator until she was done.

“So,” he asked, “you’re good?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett said, picking up an empty ice cube tray and twisting it. “I’m…good.”

“And school?”

“Same crap, new year. But, good. I guess.”

“NYU is scary,” he said. “I guess I knew when I moved to New York that I wouldn’t be the big kid on the block anymore, the guy who got all the leads in the school show…but I didn’t know how much better everyone would be.”

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and let out a long sigh—the song of insecurity.

“You’re good,” Scarlett said before she could help herself.

The speed of the compliment seemed to ruin whatever feeling was in the room.

“I guess I should get back,” he said. “I have a rehearsal in an hour. But I just wanted to drop by. Say hi to your boss for me?”

“Sure,” Scarlett said. She tried to sound casual, but her voice had gone all croaky. He looked at the granite floor for a moment, black and twinkling with golden flecks of mica.

“Okay,” he said, “so…”

Some decision was being made. Something was being considered. They were so close. Scarlett had the mad urge to step forward and grab him around the waist, hug him close. He would be, at the very least, too polite to push her away. He would hug her back, and he would look down into her face, and then they would…

No. You can’t go flinging yourself at people. Especially people you are trying not to think about even if they are standing in a tiny kitchen with you and even if you have just cleaned up dog pee with them.