It wasn't that he was reading into the silence that fell between them (at least, he didn't think), but then again—
Harlan peered up from the invitation held at his side just in time to catch a grin out of Bérénice. He let out a relieved breath of a laugh in return and leaned both hands against the counter behind him, the one with the envelope less gracefully. Still, no answer from her, but he seemed to mind that less once the tension had been cut. Not talking about things was his specialty. She flicked off the stovetop and he couldn't help but smile that god-damn-knowing smile as a result. So, cooking was off the table.
As he imagined might happen, her hands were on him before he had a chance to dwell on it. The invitation fell without a second thought to the counter as an involuntary sigh came from somewhere in his throat. She knew what running her fingers through his hair would do, anyway, but the distraction was certainly not a bad thing. They could work out the details later. Or keep pushing it off, whatever suited. Harlan pushed back against her from the counter and his hand dropped to her waist, flexing over the firm fabric of her skirt.
"So that's a please RSVP for two, Harlan?" He teased as he pulled back from her, his thumb wrapped around her neck and running over the course of her skin. He wasn't going to do it until she said it.
fin
