“It was real,” he says. “All of it.”
I can’t look away.
He swallows once, and I can see the effort in it. Like he’s choosing not to hide.
“Youwere real,” he says, slower. “And I cared about you. Even as a username.”
My throat tightens.
“And then I met you,” he continues, and something in his expression shifts—soft, helpless. “Therealyou. And it was like my body recognized you before my brain caught up.”
My pulse stutters.
“I’ve never been drawn to someone the way I’ve been drawn to you,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t make sense. It just…is.”
Heat creeps up my neck, traitorous and humiliating.
He shakes his head once, like he’s frustrated with himself.
“I kept telling myself that I was imagining patterns,” he admits. “That I was just…wanting it to line up because it would explain why you felt like both people at once.”
His eyes meet mine again.
“And yeah,” he says with a rough voice, “a part of me hoped you were the same person.”
My chest does a somersault. I look away because my face is betraying me. Because the heat blooming across my skin feels like proof.
I whisper, almost to myself, “This is a lot.”
“I know,” he says, and it isn’t soothing or dismissive.
It’s just understanding.
Silence stretches. Not comfortable. Not unbearable either. Just loaded.
My fingers curl around the strap of my tote like I’m ready to bolt. Grayson notices—of course he does. He doesn’t move closer. He doesn’t reach. He just asks quietly, “Do you want me to go?”
I hate the question because it puts choice in my lap, and choice is terrifying.
I swallow hard.
“No,” I whisper.
It comes out too honest. His breath leaves him like relief he’s trying not to show. My chest still hurts. But the world stops tilting quite as hard. I stare straight ahead and say the thing that feels like a threat and a plea at the same time.
“Kai can’t know yet.”
Grayson goes still.
Then he nods once, slow. “Okay.”
“You can’t tell him,” I say quickly, panic spiking. “He’ll—he’ll turn it into something bigger. He’ll cage me.”
Grayson’s jaw tightens. “I won’t tell him.”
I glance at him, suspicious. “You swear?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “I swear.”
