Shelley imagines it for a moment, faint flush across her cheeks never fading, and how she hates that.

She imagines letting go and falling forward into his waiting arms, being held. Being warm, no matter how cool the air grows. And then... what? It would not the end. There's never an end.

Her eyes are still closed against him, but she feels it as he leans back a little, the lessening pressure. Her hand held against her shoulder tries to curl away.

"No. I can't."