As they reappear on the second floor, Sterling doesn’t flinch at the shift. Just blinks once at the familiar rows of books and the stillness of the air around them—as if the rooftop had been a pocket of time that only the two of them got to step into. His fingers are still wrapped around hers like he’s afraid letting go might undo whatever spell just bound them tighter together.
Her question breaks the quiet. Soft. Steady.
He tilts his head, considering her, not the question. Like wherever she was planning to go would’ve been answer enough.
But he plays along.
“Anywhere you are,” he says, voice low with that familiar warmth, that drawl laced in affection. Then adds, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a walk.”
