She feels it each time.
With every encounter, with every smirk, with every long, lingering look.
She feels it after every banter, after every huff, after every one of her answering smiles.
She feels it in the form of answering his questions, in of her pandering to his curiosities, in their discussions of everything and anything and of nothing at all.
She feels it growing into something she can't control; this giving and taking, this back and forth she never wants to end.
It's pouring out; these small, small surrenders. But it doesn't leave her empty.
Because he always gives her more. Pieces of him for every single piece of her.