“You could go over,” I told Khai.
For a moment, he seemed tempted to deny it. Then he sighed and rolled his upper lip over his teeth. “You think I should?”
I nodded, tipping my beer at him. “You’re better looking than that guy, and she already likes you. What’ve you got to lose?”
He frowned down at his drink. “A friend, for one?”
“It doesn’t have to be a big thing,” I said. “Just, you know…talk. Ask if she wants some fresh air. See where it goes.”
He gave me a long look before he smiled, sudden and hopeful. “Okay, yeah. I’ll give it a try. But if I crash and burn, you owe me drinks and moral support.”
“Sure.” I smiled back. “If you crash and burn—which Idoubt—we’ll get out of here and sulk about how we’re better off alone. It’ll be fun.”
He snorted, then raised his cup to tap it against my bottle. “I’m glad I met you, man. Wish me luck.”
“Got all my fingers and toes crossed for you.”
His shoulders steadied. “All right. I’m off.”
With that, he turned into the crowd—nerves and all, more purpose than confidence. When Tessa spotted him, her face lit up. It wasn’t romantic, not necessarily, but her body language reoriented, shifting to make space for Khai, open and warm without being rudely dismissive of the guy beside her. He stuck around for a minute, finishing whatever casual line he’d been working on, then read the room like a grown-up and wandered off toward the drinks. Khai leaned in to say something. The way Tessa laughed made me release a slow breath.
Okay, he was good, at least for now. He’d done the thing—put himself out there, made his move rather than keep wondering.
I took a sip of my lukewarm beer and slid another glance at Jesse. It wasn’t the same, was it? I couldn’t just walk up andask whether he’d inflated my score because he liked my ass. Even under the dedicated umbrella of mentor speed-dating, the atrium buzzed too loudly, every word at risk of being overheard.
Yeah, definitely not here.
Okay. New plan.
I moved to the edge of the crowd, stopping here and there for a word and a nod, before I found a quiet spot near a wilting veggie platter. Good enough. I pulled out my phone and his name in my contacts.
Got to ask you something. Roof in 10?
A deep breath, then I sent it, tucked the phone away, and faked a keen interest in cucumber sticks while keeping Jesse at the edge of my peripheral vision, tracking every change in his posture. Across the room, he looked down at his own screen, one brow lifting the tiniest fraction. When he looked up again, his gaze found mine with instant precision.
So—oh. He’d been aware of me, too.
No smile, just a single, barely perceptible nod. Message received.
Fuck, okay. I was about to confront the guy who controlled the next three months of my life. My pulse skittered as I reached for a baby carrot I didn’t want. Still better than another beer, though, what with how that would feel like a bad rerun of last week.
I slipped out of the room just as the playlist segued into Madonna’sDie Another Day.Copy that.
Evening softened the harsh angles of the rooftop, shadows pooling in the corners—less blinding heat and more burnished skyline, the kind of lighting people tried to capture for movies.Dumb choice to meet under a sunset haze, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.
I paced a slow line near the railing, palms damp, forcing myself to breathe in for four counts, out for four counts, hold for two, just like my mom had taught me.Stop speculating. Talk, clarify, move on.
Behind me, the service-stair door rasped open.
Gentle steps crossed toward me, regular and measured. I turned and found Jesse drawing closer, hands tucked into the pockets of those jeans, shoulders a little tense, the low sun washing his skin in bronze. His dark polo clung to arms I remembered far too well.
“Hey,” he said, quiet and even.
“Hey.” I cleared my throat. “Thanks for coming.”
“Figured you didn’t summon me to talk about the weather.” He glanced at the humming AC unit beside us, then leaned sideways against the railing, facing me. “What’s up?”
Right. Rip off the Band-Aid.
