The way Jace’s throat works like he’s swallowing something hard.
The way Ethan shifts closer, blocking part of his view, and Jace angles just enough to see around him.
The way one of the guys nudges him and smirks, clearly putting the pieces together.
Brian excuses himself to grab another drink. “You want another?” he asks.
I look at my half-full glass and shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
He heads to the bar.
I sit alone, staring at the condensation slipping down my glass, trying to breathe through the ache in my chest.
I can feel him without looking. Feel the weight of his attention like a hand between my shoulder blades.
My phone buzzes in my bag. I pull it out with shaky fingers.
Emma: How’s it going? Do I need to fake a kitchen fire?
A humorless laugh escapes me.
Me: It’s… complicated.
Emma: That bad?
Me: He’s here. With Ethan.
Emma: …
Emma: HE WHO?
Me: Who do you think?
Three dots appear. Disappear. Then:
Emma: Do you need me?
Me: No. I just needed to say it out loud.
Emma: Okay. Breathe. You can leave if you want. No medal for staying.
I stare at that last line.
She’s right. There’s no prize for pretending this doesn’t hurt.
There’s no prize for sitting here, trying to act like I don’t feel his gaze like a physical touch.
I tuck my phone away and stand before I can talk myself out of it.
When Brian returns, I give him a tight smile. “Hey, I’m really sorry, but I think I need to call it a night. Early work meeting tomorrow.”
He looks disappointed but kind. “Ah. No worries. Rain check?”
I hesitate. It’s not his fault I’m an emotional disaster. He’s nice. He showed up. He tried.
“Maybe,” I say, because I can’t give him more than that and not lie.
He gives a friendly nod. “Let me walk you out.”
