"Jonah," Noah hisses, scandalized. "That's rude."
Heat floods my cheeks.
"No. Not a beta. Just a defective omega."
Noah gapes at me. "Hey. We don't talk about my people like that."
I actually laugh. It bubbles up before I can stop it, surprised and sharp. I clap a hand over my mouth.
Jonah's expression softens immediately. "Hey. Sorry. I didn't mean—"
"It's fine. If I'm making you question your nose, you're not wrong."
He studies me for a second longer, concern flickering. He opens his mouth, then glances over my shoulder and shuts it again.
"Anyway. It's nice to meet you. You killed that bridge step, by the way."
"Thanks. You two are ridiculously in sync. It's cute."
"We practice," Noah says, smug. He bumps his hip into Jonah's again and Jonah automatically steadies him with a hand at his waist, like it's gravity.
The instructor calls something to Jonah about locking up. Jess appears at my elbow.
"I've gotta grab a shower. You hanging after or heading out?"
"Jasper's in the parking lot. If I make him sit alone in a car for an hour he'll convince himself I've run off to join the circus."
Jess snorts. "Next week, then. Same time?"
"Yeah. I'd like that."
She squeezes my arm and disappears. Noah and Jonah gather their things, chattering in low, affectionate bickers.
I watch them without meaning to.
At the lockers, Jonah fusses like some domestic fairy. He digs a hoodie out of his bag and drapes it around Noah'sshoulders, smoothing the fabric over his arms. He double-checks Noah's water bottle, frowns when he sees it's nearly empty, and walks to the fountain to refill it without being asked.
When Noah bends to tie his shoe, Jonah automatically shifts to stand between him and the hallway. Not blocking. Just there. A wall. A shield.
Noah doesn't roll his eyes. He leans into it. His body language melts softer whenever Jonah's hands are near. It's not dramatic. It's quiet and constant. The way he looks up at Jonah, all open trust and stupid happy love, makes my chest ache in a place I thought had gone numb.
They move like they've negotiated every inch of this dance and still keep finding new ways to make it sweeter.
I don't realize I've gone still until someone steps up beside me.
Chase's presence hits before his voice does, big and solid.
"Careful," he says, low. "Stare any harder and they'll start charging admission."
I startle, then grin despite myself. "You know them?"
He snorts. "Everyone who spends more than five minutes in this place knows them. They're the unofficial advertisement for 'maybe relationships aren't trash, actually.'" He lifts a hand and Jonah spots him, grins wide, and crosses the room to clap his palm against Chase's in a quick handshake.
"Hey, old man," Jonah says. "You lifting or just creeping on cardio bunnies today?"
"Split squats. And it's called people-watching, thanks."
Jonah rolls his eyes and heads back to Noah, who has managed to get his wrist stuck in his hoodie sleeve. Jonah helps him untangle it, patient, lips brushing Noah's knuckles in a quick kiss when he's done.
