The project was finished. The tiny house glowed softly on the floor between us, its lights flickering like a heartbeat I could feel in my own chest. Maybe it was because Blake was sitting so close. Maybe it was because the room had become too quiet, too warm, too small. Or maybe it was because I was finally starting to realize how dangerous it was to be alone with him like this.

He was in my body. I was in his. Everything should have felt distant or wrong or impossible.

But nothing about this ...