I blink twice, totally caught off guard, instinctively checking myself—did I say something? Do something? Miss something? Did I forget deodorant? Nothing comes to mind.
Ty doesn’t seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t react to it. He stays calm and steady, the way he does everything, and steps away like the conversation is already behind him.
The door shuts and the room settles into a quiet stillness. He looks my way and grins. It’s the kind of smile that doesn’t ask for anything in return. It simply is, and annoyingly, it’s as if he knows who his audience is, because it lands.
It’s not just the smile. It’s the way he carries himself—like nothing sticks to him unless he wants it to. Like he knows exactly where he is in a room and doesn’t need to prove it to anyone. Like he’s comfortable in his own skin. In his space. In a way that feels…so very rare.
I shouldn’t be noticing that. I definitely shouldn’t be noticing the way his sleeves are pushed up enough to show his forearms, or how he looks like he could walk into any situation and handle it without making a big deal out of it. Or the fact that when he’s not talking, when he’s just standing there, there’s somethingquieter about him, more centered. Like there’s a whole other version of him he doesn’t hand out easily.
That part—that is the gooey center I want to know. But, it’s also the part that is actually scary for me. I know I kissed this man a couple weeks ago, opening up a can of worms I can’t seem to put away now, but…having him in my face, a part of my world, and threaded into my being? It’s all feeling very real. As much as it feels surreal, if I’m being honest.
I shake it off almost immediately and reach for the nearest tray like I suddenly have a very important job to do. Can’t have Ty catch me spiraling over him, now can we?
“You done making friends out there?” I ask, keeping my tone light. But it comes out just a little too aware, and with a squeak on the end.
“For now.” Ty picks up a tray of beads like he’s been assigned the job. “You keeping tabs on who I talk to?”
“You wish,” I manage, taking the tray from his hands. “You seemed to be busy with Ava’s mom.”
“Yeah.” He grimaces. “She’s kind of aggressive.”
“Really?” That makes me pause. “What do you mean?”
“Agressive in a glittery kind of way.” He laughs, shaking his head. “She’s really nice, but pushy. She asked me to come over for dinner tonight to talk about Ava’s technique.”
“Oh.” I bite the edge of my lip, holding back a laugh. “That’s a little awkward, isn’t it? How do you get out of that one?”
He stops mid-step and looks at me. “I told her I had plans with my girlfriend.”
I put a hand on my hip. “You have one of those?”
Am I fishing? More like flirting. I think. This is flirting, right?
“Not really,” he says easily. “But I think the person who is standing in as one will forgive me when she finds out I used her as an out. Karmically, she owes me.”
My brows lift. “Karmically?”
His lips twist into a half grimace, half grin as his hands cover his eyes. “I told her you were my girlfriend.”
My jaw drops, and a choked laugh slips out before I can stop it. “Oh my—” I shake my head, still laughing. “That’s a good one. You got me. You really got me.”
He doesn’t laugh right away, which is what makes me look at him. When I do, he slowly lets his hands fall away and he looks right at me. There’s no laughter in his eyes, no jokes, just a certainty that rocks my insides. And suddenly, his words land differently.
I straighten slightly. “Wait.” One beat. “You didn’t.”
Ty holds up his hands. “Eye for an eye, my friend.”
“Seriously, If I get jumped by Ava’s mom next week, you have to take care of me when I’m recovering.” I snort, reaching for a tangle of chains as Ty moves to another table to pick up more beads and a scattered assortment of charms. “You don’t have to help me, you know.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t stop. I watch him for a second as he methodically works through a knot like it personally offended him.
“You’re very committed for someone who never wanted to be in this room.”
He glances up. “I contain multitudes.”
“That feels like something you read on a quote graphic.”
