Jasper tapped his spoon against his mug. “You know what I realized last night?”
Bennett’s stomach tightened. “I do not want to know.”
“You want to know,” Jasper said.
Bennett took a sip. The coffee burned his tongue. It did nothing to soothe the heat building under his skin.
Jasper looked at him for a long moment. “You’re not mean. You pretend to be mean.”
Bennett’s brows drew together. “That is your realization?”
“Yes,” Jasper said, as if it mattered. “You use sharpness like armor.”
Bennett held his gaze. “And you use charm like a weapon.”
Jasper smiled. “Fair.”
Bennett tried to keep his voice steady. “What is your point?”
“My point,” Jasper said, “is that the armor is slipping.”
Bennett’s fingers tightened around his mug. “You’re imagining things again.”
Jasper’s smile faded. Not entirely. Just enough.
“I’m not,” Jasper said quietly. “I’m watching you.”
Bennett’s throat worked. “Stop watching me.”
Jasper’s voice was soft. “Make me.”
Bennett stared at him. The words were teasing, but there was something under them. Something that felt like a line being offered.
He could say something clever. Something sharp. Something that would return them to safe banter.
He did not.
He set his mug down carefully. “This is not a game.”
Jasper’s gaze held steady. “I know.”
Bennett swallowed. “And I am not going to be… that for you.”
Jasper tilted his head. “That.”
“A situation,” Bennett said, voice low. “A curiosity. Something you pass the time with because we are trapped together.”
Jasper’s expression shifted. The teasing fell away completely.
“Is that what you think I am doing?” Jasper asked.
Bennett looked at the table because looking at Jasper’s eyes felt like standing too close to the edge of something.
“It’s what I would do,” Bennett admitted, before he could stop himself. “If I were you.”
Jasper was quiet for a beat. Then he said, very calmly, “You are not me.”
Bennett forced himself to look up.
