Jace’s eyes snap to mine so fast my breath stumbles.
I clear my throat. “He means the date I bailed on.”
Brian nods, easygoing. “I told her she gets a free redo for that.”
Jace’s expression does something sharp and unguarded, something that looks like he’d prefer it if Brian stopped talking completely.
Jace stares at Brian with that tight, unreadable look he gets right before he says something he probably shouldn’t. I can feel the tension rolling off him in slow, restrained waves.
“Practice soon?” I ask, trying to sound normal.
“Yeah,” Jace says. “Just grabbing coffee.”
His tone is flat, but his eyes flick down to where Brian’s hand rests casually near mine on the table. Not touching, but close.
Too close, apparently.
Brian’s phone vibrates against the table, the loud buzz cutting through the air between us. He glances down, winces.
“Sorry, I should take this. Won’t be long.” He pushes back his chair and stands, angling around the small table. The space is too tight, so when he steps past Jace, their shoulders brush. It’s a light accidental contact.
“Sorry, man,” Brian says automatically, already lifting the phone to his ear.
Jace doesn’t say anything. His jaw hardens, and his fingers flex just once, like the contact hit a nerve.
He looks back at me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I live ten minutes away,” I say, keeping my voice even. “It’s a coffee shop, Jace.”
His eyes darken, and for a second, one single, dangerous second he forgets we’re not alone.
“I know,” he murmurs.
Brian returns, cheerful and unaware. “So… football today? You’re a coach, right? Thought I recognized you.”
Jace blinks at him like he didn’t realize Brian had rejoined the conversation.
“Practice, yes, and I’m the Offensive Coordinator,” he says.
“Cool,” Brian replies.
It is not cool. Not even remotely. The air is a pressure cooker.
I shift slightly, fiddling with my napkin, trying to look anywhere but at him. When I do, something slips from my coat pocket. From the sound of the dull clatter on the floor, it was my keys.
Jace bends down at the same moment I reach down to grab them.
Our hands collide.
Our fingers brush.
Barely.
A whisper of skin against skin.
But Jace freezes like electricity shot through him. His breathing stops and his lashes lower for a brief second. And then his hand flexes.
Slow.
