“It’s… it’s not finished yet,” Leo whispered, instinctively closing the sketchbook and pressing his palms against the cover.
Ethan didn’t look offended. Instead, a knowing, incredibly soft expression crossed his face. He reached across the small wooden table, his fingers gently brushing against the back of Leo’s hand. The touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity straight down Leo’s spine.
“Leo,” Ethan said softly, using his name for the very first time.
“I know what’s in there. I’ve seen you drawing me. Honestly… I’ve been waiting for you to look up and notice that I’ve been watching you, too.”
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