I'm only half-paying attention to what she's doing when she asks me a question. I sit up, looking over as she exposes the long, pale column of her neck. It's a good neck, and with her turned her away from me, well...

I look. My hand instinctively comes up to touch the scrape, but I catch myself before I make contact, my hand hovering an inch or so above her skin. I push down the sudden, stupid urge to brush my mouth over the point where her neck meets her shoulder, fighting a blush I'm glad she can't see. I try to even out my breaths.

"Ah- Yeah, you--" I say, stumbling a little over my words. "Yeah. There is."