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table. “So where do we start?”
    He had the basic, graphic art and technical drawing skills all architecture kids had. He admitted to that—he could draw a building easily enough. But he couldn’t draw it to life, he said. Not like me.
    So for the next few hours, we sat side by side at my table with my grid pad and pencils. Sometimes our knees bumped, sometimes our thighs were completely touching, sometimes he’d rest his arm on the back of my chair, sometimes our hands would be so close they’d almost be touching.
    And we talked, and we laughed, and we told stories and he smelt so good. But he listened, and he studied, and he copied and it was pretty obvious this kid had talent.
    It was also pretty obvious there was something between us. I wasn’t imagining it. I’d catch him staring at me, or sometimes his breath would catch, and every now and then when our hands touched, it’d make my heart rate take off and my mouth would go dry.
    Sometimes I’d catch myself staring at him. I was lost in his brown hair and hazel eyes and kissable, pink lips. When he was concentrating, or lost in thought at the drawing in front him, I’d have to make myself look away.
    When he turned to ask me about something, our faces were so close, within leaning distance. His question was long forgotten, and his eyes darkened as he stared at me. He licked his lips and leaned in just a fraction.
    He was going to kiss me. And I wanted to. I wanted to feel his lips, I wanted to taste him, touch him, and it was that want that made me panic.
    I shot out of my seat and went into the kitchen, shaking my head of the Cooper-daze it was apparently in, and tried to calm my hammering heart.
    I turned to find Cooper stand up slowly. “I should probably go,” he said quietly.
    “Okay,” I said, out of breath.
    His brow furrowed and he collected his laptop and stuffed it into his satchel. He exhaled through puffed-out cheeks and mumbled something about seeing himself out. Unable to do much else, I nodded, compliantly.
    He walked out of my apartment and not three seconds later there was a knock on the door. Knowing who it would be, I looked through the peephole and nervously ran my hands through my hair before opening the door.
    Cooper looked rattled, confused even, so I asked, “Everything okay?”
    He stared at me for a long second then blurted out, “I think we should kiss.”

Chapter Six
     
     
     
    “You what?”
    “I think we should kiss,” he repeated, clearly flustered. “We should just do it, and get it out of the way. Then we can forget about it and get over it, move on, clear the air, whatever. But it’s just always there,” he said, almost pacing in my doorway. “It’s right there between us and it’s driving me mad. I can’t concentrate, all I can think about is what the fuck kissing you would feel like, or taste like.”
    My heart was hammering and my stomach was in knots. He was standing right in front of me, telling me he wanted to kiss me.
    “I’m not concerned about work,” he went on to say. “Because I’m sure, I’m absolutely certain that if I just kiss you once and get it out of my system, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back to normal and we can just act like nothing happened. I know you want to kiss me too,” he said, still ranting. “I can see it when you look at me. You stare at my mouth and you lick your lips, and it’s like you’re trying to not want to kiss me and I don’t blame you, because it’s weird, I get that. But I think if we just did it and got it out of the way, we could work together without all this wondering about what you might taste like…” His words died off quietly. The look on my face must have scared him. “Or not,” he mumbled, taking a step back from me. “I’ve obviously misread the signs and you’re not saying anything and I’ve just ruined everything.” He turned and almost ran for the elevator.
    “Cooper, stop,” I said, following him and grabbing his arm. “You