A snort escapes Dakota. “Clearly. You were glowing before you even sat down.”
River gives me a look. “That a compliment?”
“It’s an observation,” she says, popping a grape in her mouth, but she winks at me behind his back.
I force a small smile and try not to look across the room again—but I canfeelthem. Like gravity. Like a loaded wire running straight through the space between us. My lips still tingle from Tex’s kiss. I ache from the way I?—
“Isobel,” River says softly.
I blink. “Yeah?”
He smiles, gentle this time. “You zoned out there.”
“Just thinking,” I say.About too many things. About too many people.
Dakota kicks me under the table—friendly, playful—and I manage a real laugh.
But when I look up again, Tex is still watching.
River slingshis bag higher on his shoulder as we walk the curved hall toward the east wing. The morning sunlight filters through the tall glass windows, casting strips of light across the polished floor, but all I can feel is the heat of his hand brushing mine.
“So,” he says, giving me a sidelong glance, “dinner later? Or are you still trying to pretend I’m not charming?”
I laugh, low and a little surprised. “You’re… mildly charming. Jury’s still out.”
He grins, pleased anyway, and slows in front of the classroom door. “I’ll take mildly. For now.”
I hesitate, unsure if he’s going to lean in again like last night. But before I can overthink it, he bends and kisses me—its soft, with a warmth that stays just long enough to make my chest flutter. He smells like mint gum and clean laundry, and for a second, I let myself lean into the safety of it. The simplicity.
When he pulls away, I open my eyes—and freeze.
Tex and Noah stand just down the hall, both with unreadable expressions, both clearly having seen everything.
Noah is the first to move, raising his brows and muttering something under his breath to Tex. But it’s Tex’s eyes that lock onto mine. Not furious. Not even angry.
Justburning.
His jaw flexes once, then twice, like he’s holding back words he knows will cut. His arms are folded tight across his chest, muscles tense under his shirt like he’s barely keeping himself in check.
“Morning,” River says, oblivious to the tension, giving them a nod before turning back to me. “See you after?”
I nod, but my gaze is stuck—trapped in the weight of Tex’s silence.
River squeezes my hand and walks off, whistling, and I swallow hard as the silence stretches between me and the two boys still standing there.
Noah’s voice breaks it. “Well, that was… something.”
I turn toward the door without a word, but Tex’s voice stops me cold.
“Still with him?” he asks. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
I turn slowly, staring back at him. “Excuse me?”
His eyes drag over me—mouth parted, breath sharp. “Just wondering how many sweet words it takes to make you forget.”
“Forget what?”
His laugh is humorless. “Everything.”
