Rhyd did not speak. He tried to think of something that did not sound flippant or callous that would not commit him to feelings he was doing his best to ignore, to pretend were not real. Just attraction, surely. An overpowering degree of admiration for those sky blue eyes, the curve of his cheeks and chin, the shape of his mouth, the way his hands moved. When his gaze dropped again to those hands that now held tight to the lip of the sink link an anchor holding Jaron down in a sea of emotion, Rhyd squeezed his eyes shut with a sharp intake of air.