Harlow glances away like she doesn’t want the moment to exist too long. Then she pushes off the boards and skates back out. Weston cuts in behind her like a puppy. Asher follows at a calmer distance. I stay by the boards for a second, watching. And my brain does what it does—quietly, relentlessly—connecting tiny things.
Her words. Her rhythm. Her “too much.” The way she tries to make herself smaller and then fights it.
I don’t want to be right.
Because being right means the safe thing I’ve had in the dark is tied to a girl under bright rink lights, in Kai’s orbit, in my real life.
And that makes it dangerous.
Not because I want to do something about it.
Because I already care.
And caring is the part you can’t undo.
Afterward, we file out together.
Weston talks the whole way. Asher keeps him from getting louder than necessary. Harlow walks with her tote on her shoulder like she’s bracing to be a person again. In the lobby, she slows a fraction, letting Weston and Asher drift ahead. She ends up beside me. Not close. Just…aligned.
“Thanks,” she says quietly. “For not being loud.”
I snort softly. “It’s one of my best qualities.”
She glances at me, skeptical. “Debatable.”
“Okay,” I say. “Rude.”
“You have a lot of great qualities,” she replies, and judging by the blush taking over her cheeks, I don’t think she fully intended for that to slip out.
I bite my cheek to keep my grin in check, but the corners of my mouth quirk. “Get home safe.”
She nods once. “You too.”
Then she turns, heading toward the parking lot. I watch her for half a second too long, then I turn away, because wanting is dangerous, and I’m starting to want.
A lot.
Back at the apartment, Kai still isn’t home.
Which means he either let her go alone or he’s parked outside her dorm like a lunatic, waiting to make sure she makes it back safely.
Both are equally possible.
I shower. I eat something vaguely responsible. I stare at the ceiling and pretend my brain isn’t still on the ice.
Eventually, my hand finds my phone.
Not because I’m desperate.
Because my brain is a liar.
I open the forum.
LittleTooMuchis online.
My thumb hovers over the message box.
I type two words.
