“How’s your head?”
I rolled my shoulders once, testing. “Clear. Mostly.”
His jaw tightened. “Tori said that’d happen. Stress crash. Adrenaline hangover. You’ll level out.”
I nodded, even though that didn’t explain the way my pulse still jumped when he looked at me.
There was a pause. A deliberate one.
“Water?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said immediately, then winced at how fast that came out. “Please.”
He stood and crossed the room, his movements quiet and controlled. He grabbed a bottle from the dresser and twisted the cap off before handing it to me.
Our fingers brushed.
Just barely.
It still sent a jolt straight up my arm.
I hated that. And the part of me that noticed how quickly he pulled his hand back like he’d felt it too.
I took a few careful sips. Cold. Good. Grounding.
“Thank you,” I said.
He nodded once and sat back down, but not as close as before. Far enough that I could breathe without his scent filling my lungs.
Progress. Maybe.
Silence settled again.
It wasn’t awkward. Not exactly but definitely not comfortable either. Just… there.
“Your hoodie’s folded,” he said after a moment, nodding toward the nightstand. “Didn’t want you overheating again.”
I glanced at it. There was something about how neat and carefully it was place like he’d thought about it.
“Thanks,” I said again, quieter this time.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed slowly, half-expecting him to stop me.
He didn’t.
My feet hit the floor and I stood.
He tracked the movement, his eyes sharp but didn’t move.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said before I could stop myself.
He studied me for a long second. “I know.”
“You don’t,” I snapped, more edge than I meant. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“No,” he agreed. “But I know you’re not running right now.”
That shut me up.
