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Mira took the drill, and Isabel stood to the side. It occurred to Mira that this part wasn’t a two-person job. In fact, aside from leveling the shelves at the start, Isabel could have done all this herself in a tenth of the time.

Mira lined up the drill bit with one of the pencil marks. “You want it at a right angle to the wall,” Isabel said. Mira adjusted the drill. Isabel didn’t seem satisfied. “Here, let me…”

Mira made room as Isabel came closer. “Excuse me,” Isabel murmured. She didn’t look at Mira as she repositioned the drill, her calluses brushing against the back of Mira’s hand. Isabel’s fingernails were trimmed short and filed smooth. And her hands were moisturized, well-kept, surprisingly elegant. She had thick fingers, thicker than Mira’s.

Isabel stepped aside, satisfied. “Thank you,” Mira said, a moment too late, her voice unsteady.

She was overthinking this, as usual. She was thinking about Isabel more than Isabel had ever thought about her. Isabel was a responsible adult; she hadn’t made a big deal out of it. It was time for Mira to do the same thing.

She pushed the trigger, but the drill made a feeble sound and went nowhere. “Go faster and push harder,” Isabel said. “You have to commit to it.”

Mira did, and a mild thrill went through her as the bit sank into the wall. “Not bad,” Isabel said. “You’ve never done this before?”

Mira shook her head. She wasn’t one for home decor in general. That was the thing about constantly moving from place to place, never knowing if she’d be able to put down roots. “Is it not completely obvious? I’m flattered.”

“It’s a good thing to know. In case you want to hang shelves at your next place.”

Mira drilled another hole. It was easier this time. “I can’t just call you to do it for me?” On second thought, she didn’t want Isabel thinking Mira actually took her help for granted. “I’d pay handsomely. Maybe not in money. We could work something out.”

Isabel’s eyes widened for just a moment before her poker face reappeared. Mira hadn’t meant to flirt—hadn’t meant to suggest she’d offer up whatever Isabel might want. She turned hot from her cheeks all the way down to the tips of her toes.

“I don’t do non-union work for pay,” Isabel said. She was joking, too. Mira relaxed. “I’d do it for free. But you don’t need me. You got the hang of it.”

“Well, it’s kind of you to go out of your way to teach me. Thank you.” Mira had caught on to Isabel’s agenda.

“If I’m asking for help, I might as well give you something in return.”

“But you didn’t have to. That’s what friends are for.” The wordfriendsstuck in Mira’s throat.

“I like to be useful.”

“I’ve noticed that.” Mira drilled one more hole, and then another. “I’m enjoying this. I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes because it’s not fun when you do it all day for a living.”

“Not always. But you’d be surprised.”

Mira stood back up. When their gazes met, Isabel’s smile was warm and bright. She was usually so rigid that every quirk of her mouth and eyebrows spoke volumes. Whenever she smiled—genuinely, amusedly, happily smiled—it transformed her.

Isabel was gorgeous. She washot. The knowledge hit Mira like a physical blow. All her senses were fully dialed up—keenly, painfully sensitive to all those thick curves under Isabel’s clothes, her quietly radiant smile, the sheer magnetism of herpresence. Every passing thought Mira had been too afraid to examine, every flicker of curiosity, every burst of affection, every flare of heat—they all added up to one fact. She wanted Isabel.

Desire melted Mira’s insides and made her quiver. Her wanting was too wild and unformed to put into words. Isabel hadfeelingsfor her, which could mean anything at all. What was she supposed to do now?

Isabel now looked concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Um, are we doing the brackets?” Mira was dizzy. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Yep.” Isabel eyed her for another moment, then crouched down. “Here, you put in the driver bit.”

Mira would have done this clumsily in the best of times. With her heart thumping and her hands shaking, she stood no chance. She fumbled with the driver bit until Isabel put her hands over Mira’s again and all but did it for her. Each brush of those rough palms against her skin sent sparks through her. Mira was a bundle of kindling about to catch fire.

She stood up unsteadily. Isabel installed the first bracket, and Mira forced herself to pay attention. When it was her turn, she took deep breaths as she worked. One screw at a time.

Finally, the shelves themselves went up, and all Mira had to do was drive in the tiny screws that held them in place. They both stepped back. Isabel asked, “What do you think?”

“Oh, um, I like them.” Mira was too scattered to be articulate. But the shelves were elegant, and they made the living room less bare. More than that, Mira had rarely given any thought to how the space around her had been built. Shelves and cabinets were simply there.

The fact that Mira was capable of altering her space, just like that, subtly changed the way she viewed everything else. Maybe this was how Isabel saw the world: how it had been built, who built it, and what she herself could change.

Mira had had enough ground-shaking realizations for the day. “What are you going to put on them?”