My grip tightens around the cloth in my hand.
“She’s been at it for ten minutes,” Freddie mutters, clearly amused. “I almost admire the dedication.”
I don’t respond—because I can’t. All I can do is watch. Debby tosses her hair slightly as she says something else. She laughs again, louder this time, like she’s trying to draw attention. Like she wants a reaction.
Asher doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile. If anything, his expression looks colder than usual. His gaze grows sharp and distant, like he’s barely tolerating the interaction. Something else curls in my chest. Something hot. Sharp.
Why is she still standing there? Why is she still talking? Why is she laughing like that?
I clench my jaw slightly as I turn away, focusing on the counter again, but it doesn’t help. I can still hear her. Still imagine the way she’s looking at him.
“Okay,” Freddie says softly, nudging me slightly. “Now you’re definitely glaring.”
“I’m not glaring,” I mutter.
“You are,” he insists. “And it’s kind of terrifying.”
“I just…don’t understand why she’s still there,” I admit before I can stop myself.
Freddie lets out a quiet laugh. “Because he’s hot and mysterious and clearly uninterested, which makes him even more appealing to people like her.”
???
Later, I sit in the passenger seat with my hands folded in my lap, staring straight ahead. My thoughts are tangled in a way I can’t quite sort through. I don’t even know why I’m this upset. I shouldn’t be. Nothing happened. He didn’t flirt back. He didn’t even really acknowledge her.
So, why does it feel like this?
“Say something,” Asher says after a few minutes, his voice cutting through the silence.
“I don’t have anything to say,” I reply quietly, still not looking at him.
He exhales slowly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening just a fraction. “You’ve been quiet since I walked out of the café.”
“So?”
“So, I know something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“That’s a lie.”
I turn my head slightly, finally looking at him. “Why do you care?”
His gaze flicks to me briefly, sharp and steady. “You really want to ask that?”
I don’t answer. Because I don’t need to. I already know the answer. And that somehow makes everything more confusing.
The rest of the drive passes in the same tense silence. Neither of us speaks again until the car pulls to a stop in front of Wilder House. He gets out without another word, walking around to my side and opening the door like he’s done before.
I hesitate for a second before stepping out. The walk up to his apartment feels longer than usual. Every step feels heavier. By the time we get inside, the silence has stretched to the point where it’s almost unbearable.
The door closes behind us. And then, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His voice holds a hint of frustration.
I drop my bag onto the chair, shrugging slightly as I turn away from him. “I said nothing.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
