The problem with Autumn is that she sees too much.
Most people take one look at me and decide what kind of person I am.
She studies me like I'm a puzzle she plans to solve.
And the worst part?
I kind of want her to.
We're still standing in the stairwell.
Too close.
But neither of us moves away.
"You're staring again," she says.
"I know."
"Why?"
I shrug.
"You're interesting."
"That sounds suspicious."
"It's not."
She crosses her arms.
"You make people nervous."
"Do I?"
"Yes."
I step closer.
Now there's barely any space between us.
"And you?" I ask quietly.
"Do I make you nervous?"
Her eyes meet mine.
For a moment she doesn't answer.
Then she says softly,
"Maybe."
That answer sends a small thrill through me.
"Good," I say.
Her eyebrows lift.
"That's a weird response."
"Not really."
"Why?"
I lean down slightly, close enough to feel her breath.
"Because you make me nervous too."