Not dramatically.
Just enough.
His grip on my hand changed, fingers flexing once around mine. “Yeah?”
I swallowed.
“Sometimes.”
The quad noise seemed to thin around us.
For one dangerous second, he looked almost young. Not cocky. Not loud. Not the man who had announced our fake relationship to half the athletic department like he was claiming a touchdown.
Just Drew.
Watching me like my opinion had landed somewhere important.
Then his gaze flicked over my shoulder.
His expression sharpened.
I knew before I turned.
Tristan.
He was walking out of the library with Stella beside him. She had her hair down, dark and glossy over one shoulder, and he was carrying her bag like it weighed nothing. They were not touching, but they did not need to. The space between them had already been claimed.
My chest tightened.
Not like before.
Not the sharp, breathless ache of wanting something that refused to become mine.
More like touching a bruise to see if it still hurt.
It did.
Just less.
Drew’s thumb brushed mine. “You okay?”
I turned back to him.
That was new.
Noticing Tristan and choosing to look at Drew.
Drew noticed too.
His mouth softened before he hid it behind a smirk. “Damn, Texas.”
“What?”
“You looked at me first that time.”
I rolled my eyes because if I did not, I might do something much worse.
Like admit he was right.
