I snorted. “No, youcontrolpeople.”
“Same thing, sometimes.”
“No. It’s not.”
He arched a brow. “Tell that to everyone else who keeps saying yes.”
I met his gaze, steady. “I’m not everyone else.”
Something in his expression shifted—barely, but enough to notice.
That flicker again. That interest. Thatpull.
He stood slowly, pushing the chair back without taking his eyes off me. “I know.”
I held my ground, even as he moved closer. Not predatory. Not fast. Just… sure. Like he already knew how this would end.
He stopped a foot away.
Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his eyes. The barely-there scar on his jaw. The pulse ticking in his neck like he wasnotas calm as he pretended to be.
His voice was low. Measured. “Why did you leave the bonfire so fast?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Because I didn’t want to be turned into a meme. Again.”
His lips twitched. “You didn’t seem scared when you kissed me back.”
“I didn’t kiss you,” I said quietly. “You kissed me.”
Silence stretched.
The air between us thickened. Like velvet and lightning.
Leo stepped closer, now just inches away. “You ran. But you haven’t stopped looking at me since.”
I laughed once, sharp and soft. “You’re used to girls falling over themselves for you, aren’t you?”
He tilted his head. “And you’re used to pretending you’re not one of them.”
I should’ve slapped him.
Should’ve stormed out.
But instead, I just said, “I’m not one of them.”
And he whispered, “That’s what makes you dangerous.”
His hand lifted—slowly—like he was going to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, or maybe trace the line of my jaw. My breath caught.
But at the last second, he stopped.
Just let his fingers hover.
Not touching.
Almost.
Then he stepped back, eyes unreadable again.
