And it terrified her.
Because it would be so easy to turn around. To close that final inch and lose herself completely. To let him see what was hiding under all that sharpness and sass, how badly she wanted to bewantedby him.
But want was dangerous.
She’d wanted before.
And it had nearly broken her.
So, she kept walking.
She reached the edge of the crowd, chest tight, pulse hammering in her ears. Her fingers gripped the glass as if the weight of it might quiet everything else.
It couldn’t.
Behind her, Gideon hadn’t moved. He stood in the space they’d made, that fleeting pocket of charged silence—andstared.
He couldn’t go after her.
Not yet.
Because if he touched her again, he wouldn’t stop. Not this time.
And he wasn’t sure he could survive what came when she walked away.
But she turned, just slightly, glancing over her shoulder—her eyes finding his through the haze.
That look?
It undid him.
Because she wasn’t running.
She waswaiting.
Next time she looked at him like that—open, daring,his—he wouldn’t hold back.
He wouldn’t let her walk away.
The bonus roundhit like a drumroll, the entire room crackling with anticipation. Laughter echoed, pint glasses clinked, but at their table, the air tightened with focus. Arden and Gideon were tied with Penny and Dan—bantering, yes, but beneath it, each pair was playing to win.
“What jazz standard is often called the greatest love song ever written?” the host boomed, drawing a low collective hum from the crowd.
Arden’s pen hovered, her fingers still. She glanced at Gideon.
His eyes were steady on hers, unreadable but open, like he knew she had the answer. That silent confidence wrapped around her like a hand on her back—steadying, steadying, always steadying.
“Body and Soul,” she said, her voice quiet but certain, a thread of tension tightening around her ribs.
When the host confirmed the answer, a rare smile curved across Gideon’s face—not the one meant to shield, but the devastating one: raw, pure, unguarded. And it struck her breathless. Arden looked away, but her smile felt far too triumphant for trivia.
“You carried us after all,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Feigning ease, she tilted her head, but her pulse betrayed her. The heat behind his gaze made her feel like she’d just stepped into sunlight.
“Told you I could.”
Across the table, Penny groaned, dramatic as ever, flopping backward in her seat. “This is clearly rigged. Jazz standards? Who even likes jazz standards?”
