Tessa glances between us, something sharp and curious flickering in her eyes. “Well,” she says, leaning closer, lowering her voice just slightly. “We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?”
I blink.Tomorrow night. That feels like a lifetime away. “I…yeah. I think so.”
Her gaze flicks back to Cobra. “Is he coming?”
I glance over my shoulder. He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t react. But I can feel his attention sharpen. “That depends,” I say slowly.
“On?”
I turn back to her, a small smile pulling at my lips. “On him.”
Tessa grins. “Oh, I like him already.”
I don’t say anything. Because I don’t know what that means yet.
After a few hours I look over at Cobra. He hasn’t moved. Not since we walked in. Not since Tessa clocked him. Not since every set of eyes in this place quietly adjusted around him without anyone saying a word. He’s leaning against the wall now, arms loose at his sides, expression flat in that way that doesn’t read as bored so much as… contained.
Watching.
And for the first time since we got here, I realize that he might actually be dying of boredom. That thought shouldn’t make me smile.
It does.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur to Tessa, already stepping away before she can respond.
She watches me go with a knowing look I choose to ignore.
The closer I get to him, the more I feel it. That pull. That awareness that’s starting to live under my skin whenever he’s near. He doesn’t move when I stop in front of him. Doesn’t shift. But his attention sharpens. Focus narrowing until it’s just me again.
“You okay?” I ask, tilting my head slightly.
His brow pulls just barely. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
I gesture vaguely around us. “This doesn’t exactly seem like your scene.”
His gaze flicks once across the salon, then back to me. “It’s where you are.” That shouldn’t hit as hard as it does. But it does.
I swallow it down, forcing a small smile instead. “Still. You look like you’re two seconds away from falling asleep.”
“I’m not.” Simple. Final.
I believe him. That’s the problem. I step closer without thinking about it. Close enough that I can reach him without stretching. Close enough that the space between us disappears again.
His body stills instantly.
I lift my hand slowly, giving him time to pull back if he’s going to.
He doesn’t.
So I let my fingers slide into his hair. It’s softer than I expected. Thicker. My hand moves through it easily, pushing it back slightly like I’ve done this a hundred times instead of never. “Still think you could use that trim,” I say lightly.
The second I touch him, everything changes. His entire body goes tight. Not aggressive. Not pulling away.
Just… coiled.
Like something in him is bracing for impact that isn’t coming. His eyes lock onto mine.
God, they burn.
