Sylvia's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos in her mind.
His thumb was still slowly stroking the inside of her wrist.
As if he did not know he was ruining her ability to behave like a functional citizen.
Or worse, as if he knew exactly and was trying very hard not to.
Sylvia stared at their hands, at the impossible size of his fingers around her wrist, at the way he held her without trapping her, and knew with sudden, devastating certainty that if she let this moment pass because she was embarrassed, or nervous, or afraid of wanting too much, she would regret it for the rest of her life.
"I do not want you to misunderstand," she said.
Her voice barely made it out.
Thomas's gaze remained steady, but now that Sylvia was looking properly, she could see the truth beneath the calm. The pulse at his throat was beating too fast for him to be calm.
"I do not want to misunderstand you either," she added.
Thomas's thumb stopped.
