Derek: “I—” A pause. “That’s not relevant.”
I stop in the hallway, half amused, half mortified.
They’re talking about me.
Of course they are.
I clear my throat once—quietly, but enough.
Silence hits like a wall.
Then Mark’s voice, too innocent. “Oh! Look who’s alive and smells refreshing.”
Alex nods. "She was starting to smell."
"Knock it off," Derek reprimands.
I imagine I smelled like puke and rum. Lovely.
I step into the kitchen and immediately regret existing.
Mark and Alex are both leaning against the island like they live here. Derek stands by the sink, arms crossed, as if he’s been trying to decide whether to pace or disappear.
All three pairs of eyes land on me.
I tighten the robe around my waist. “Hi.”
Alex smiles brightly. “Hi! You look… less like you’re going to murder someone.”
“That’s progress,” Mark adds.
Derek’s gaze moves over me once—quick, controlled—and then locks back onto my face. “You okay?”
The question is simple. The way he asks it isn’t.
I nod. “Better.”
He exhales, and I realize he’s been holding that breath for longer than he should.
Alex claps his hands once like he’s starting a meeting. “Okay. Agenda item one: crackers. Agenda item two: making sure you don’t go home alone. Agenda item three: watching Derek try to pretend he’s not emotionally invested.”
“Alex,” Derek warns.
Alex grins wider. “What? We’re all thinking it.”
Mark nods solemnly. “It’s true.”
I roll my eyes, grateful for the distraction even as heat creeps up my neck. “I can go home.”
Derek’s jaw tightens. “You can. But you shouldn’t drive.”
“I wasn’t planning to. I don't have a car here.,” I say quickly. “I’d call an Uber.”
“No,” Derek says immediately.
The force of it makes me blink.
His voice softens a fraction. “No Ubers. Not today.”
