Suddenly I was hit by a wave of light-headedness that had me holding onto the edge of the table. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I concentrated on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. The dizziness was starting to make me sick.

No. This can’t be happening.

“Are you all right?”

I opened my eyes to see Corin watching me closely. She was gripping at the hem of her pale yellow sweater, bunching it in her hand.

The light-headedness started to fade and I was able to let go of the table. I took another deep breath and steadied myself.

“I’m fine,” I answered casually. I held up the pamphlet that had become wrinkled in my hand. “Thanks for this.”

Corin was still watching me, her eyes a little wider than they had been. Staring at me searchingly in a way that made me self-conscious. “Not a problem,” she said.

What the hell had just happened? I felt a twisting in my stomach as I tried not to worry myself about the possible implications of getting suddenly dizzy.

Maybe my blood sugar had gotten low.

Maybe my blood pressure had dropped suddenly.

One thing I did know was that I could never dismiss light-headedness ever again. I knew I was going to have to call my doctor and go in and get checked out.

And I tried really hard not to get frustrated about it.

I smoothed out the brochure and looked at it. “Looks like fun,” I said, trying to sound energetic.

Corin shrugged. “There’s no swinging from the rafters or anything, but it can be a good time.”

She absently smoothed hair back from her face. I found myself noticing the tiny details of her face. The dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. The slight chip in her front tooth. The arch of her eyebrows.

I noticed everything about her.

“Do I have to sign up or can I just show?” I asked as she poured herself a cup of water and sipped on it slowly. I was feeling better. The dizziness was receding and I definitely didn’t want to talk about it.

“You can just come if you want. And just so you know, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Don’t think you have to or anything,” she said, waiting as I filled a plate with cookies.

I quickly ate one, hoping the influx of sugar would get rid of the residual weakness.

“I know I don’t have to come, but I’d like to. It could be fun.”

“No dirty Ghost stuff though,” she laughed, and I grinned, feeling better with my sugar infusion.

“Promise, no dirty Ghost stuff.”

“Maybe we could go and grab some dinner afterward,” I suggested. Corin’s eyes bugged out of her head and I wondered what I said to make her look like that. Then I realized that it sounded like I was asking her out on a date.

Which I wasn’t.

Right?

Damn, my light-headedness had scrambled my brains. Something must have short-circuited.

“I mean, because the workshops go kind of late, so I figured you’d be hungry. What do you eat anyway?” I rambled. Dear god, I sounded like a fucking moron. I stuffed my mouth with another cookie. Anything to stop the verbal diarrhea pouring out.

“The flesh of the unborn,” she deadpanned, and I made a choking noise. I swallowed the cookie and coughed.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I gasped.

Corin pounded on my back. “I’ll wait until you’re done eating to tell you about my peculiar eating habits,” she told me, smirking. I grinned at her grinning. When I was finally able to breathe again, she continued. “I like normal stuff. Though I’m a sucker for a good plate of pasta.”

I made a face. “As long as it’s not lasagna, we’re fine.”

Corin gasped in feigned shock. “You don’t like lasagna? What kind of heathen are you?”

“The lasagna-hating kind,” I threw back at her.

We walked to the circle of chairs in the center of the room, and I was glad that I was feeling normal once again. I could almost forget about what had happened earlier. Almost. But I knew I couldn’t. Ignoring symptoms was not a luxury I could afford. Not anymore.

For the first time Corin chose a seat beside me instead of finding one between two other people. I considered that a huge step forward in our budding friendship.

I continued eating the cookies on my plate and held one out for her. She hesitated.

“I promise it won’t kick-start any crazy illnesses. I don’t think one cookie will incapacitate you.”

She stuck out her tongue and grabbed the cookie, popping the whole thing in her mouth.

“See, now that wasn’t so bad was it?” I asked. Corin wiped crumbs off her mouth

and took another drink of water.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

I held my hand up in mock surrender. “I would do no such thing. Not now that you know my secret loathing of lasagna. I wouldn’t dare goad the woman who holds that sort of power.”

We were sitting close. Really close. Only inches separated us.

She had an eyelash on her cheek and without thinking about it, I reached out to brush it away. My fingers trailed the length of her face, still touching. Unable to stop.

Corin’s breathing hitched and I felt my heart start to slam against my rib cage.

All because I was touching her face.

“You had an eyelash.” I held it up on my thumb, my voice hoarse.

“I should make a wish, huh?” she whispered. We were looking at each other. Not looking away. I don’t think we could even if we had wanted to.

She closed her eyes and blew lightly on my thumb, the eyelash disappearing.

“What did you wish for?” I asked her, my voice cracking like a kid going through puberty. I leaned in a little closer. I couldn’t help it.

She smelled like paint and something fruity. Strawberries maybe?

Shit. Was I seriously sitting there sniffing a girl like she was a goddamned bouquet of flowers? If I made a habit of sniffing bouquets of flowers, that is.

Corin’s eyes popped open and she looked at me nervously.

Smooth, Beck. Real smooth.

“If I tell you that, it won’t come true, will it?” she giggled nervously, keeping her eyes trained on the floor.

“I won’t tell. I promise,” I whispered quietly, widening my eyes innocently.

Corin snorted but didn’t answer. Which was probably for the best. I had already amped up the unnecessary discomfort to an unsettling degree.

Why did I turn into a pile of moron around this woman?

And then, to make matters worse, I draped my arm around her shoulders. I couldn’t help it. I needed to touch her. It was something akin to compulsion.

I was making too much of a habit of invading her personal space. But I had always been an affectionate guy, I reasoned. I grew up in a family that hugged often. So it meant nothing for me to show affection in a physical way.

That didn’t explain why I maneuvered every situation so I could carelessly caress Corin. So I could touch her hand or brush against her arm.

I could feel her body heat through the cotton of my shirt. I could smell the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. The paint flecked on her shirt. I could feel the way she breathed, in and out, her chest expanding and retracting with the movement. My fingers gripped her arm and I suddenly wished I could feel her bare skin under my hand.

Suddenly what started as a purely platonic gesture began to feel like something else.

I really should move my arm. I was making this way more complicated than it needed to be.

But then she leaned into me. Just a fraction of an inch. Nothing much.

But it was enough.

So I kept my arm where it was.

“Hello, everyone!” Candace bellowed from her spot in the middle of the group. I dropped my arm like I had been burned, and Corin noisily scraped her chair across the floor as she moved away.

We glanced at each other out of the corners of our eyes and I was practically dripping in self-consciousness.