“I’m known for my partying.”
A pause. The silence stretched again, then?—
“You going anywhere?”
I could feel him watching me again, not as casual this time.
I kept my expression neutral. “Not far.”
“Hot springs? Cabins? Hotel with room service and blackout curtains?”
“Sounds expensive.”
“Sounds earned.”
I allowed a faint smirk. “You always dig this hard when people take time off?”
“No,” he said. “Just you.”
That pulled a flicker of something across my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was warmth or warning. Probably both.
“I’m leaving late,” I said, changing lanes in the conversation. “I should get on the road.”
“You shouldn’t be driving if you’re?—”
I stopped. Turned. “If I’m what?”
His jaw flexed, just once.
But he didn’t finish the sentence.
Didn’t have to.
We were at my car now—corner space, back edge of the lot. Tucked into shadow.
That’s when I saw it.
A square of white, tucked under the wiper blade. Not the official arena parking kind. No logo. Just a thick card folded in half and wedged like a cliché.
I didn’t need to touch it to know who it was from.
But I did anyway.
My stomach clenched before my fingers closed around the paper.
Rylan.
His handwriting was unmistakable with its tight, sharp slashes, like everything he said was either a challenge or a dare. I didn’t read it.
I didn’t need to.
I tore it straight down the center, then again, again, again—until it was nothing but scraps between my fingers.
When I turned to Jay, he didn’t say anything. Just held out his hand like he’d been waiting for me to break.
I handed him the pieces.
He slipped them into his coat pocket without a word.
