“Yeah… Tristan and I have a lot of that.”
That lands.
I see it.
In both of them.
My gaze slides to him.
Holds.
“In fact,” I continue, voice soft, easy, but layered now, “maybe it’s time we revisited our history… don’t you think?”
His breath catches. Just slightly.
There it is.
I let it sit.
Let it settle.
Let it mean something.
Then I lean back just a fraction, like I didn’t just drop something loaded right in the middle of the table.
“Maybe we should grab a bite,” I add, glancing between them, then back to him, “and talk about it.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Tristan blinks like he’s trying to process what just happened.
Isa moves first.
Her arm slides more firmly through his. Claiming.
“Are you asking us out, Stella?” she asks, sweet, curious, edged.
I meet her gaze.
Hold it.
Then smile.
“No.”
My eyes flick to Tristan.
“Just him.”
A beat.
“But you can tag along,” I add lightly, “for funsies.”
The shift is immediate.
Tristan looks like he just got dropped into the middle of something he doesn’t know how to control.
