Corrie had squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying, and she opened them slowly now, still dazed from recent events, and from the fact that...
He felt so right. Not the same. He'd been just eighteen the last time they were like this. But he felt right, and familiar. Still, after all these years.
"Okay," she mumbled, and pulled herself together, and away just enough that she could walk - but not away entirely. She couldn't pull away entirely, although she also couldn't look at him for fear of seeing or showing - what? Whatever it was, she didn't think she could bear it. But at least she had a good excuse in the uneven floor and the uncertain state of her body. She had to watch her feet, and breathe carefully. She had to think about everything she was doing, and feeling. But there was so much, and she couldn't think about any of it in any useful sense right now, so obviously the best thing to do was to just follow Lorcan's lead and his instructions.
But not to look at his face, or to show too much of her own. Better another broken rib than that.