The thought slipped in before he could stop it.
He reached for his beer, pretending the sudden urge to keep her talking had nothing to do with the way her face lit up when she laughed.
It was one of the things he liked most about her. There was nothing forced about it, no fake giggle or practiced flirtation. When Shylo found something funny, she laughed because she genuinely meant it.
Their debate was still going strong when the server returned, balancing two plates. She set a steak and baked potato in front of Seth, then placed the chicken marsala Shylo had ordered on the other side of the table. After making sure they had everything they needed, she moved on to another table.
As they ate, the conversation continued much as it had all evening. But as dinner progressed, he noticed a shift in her mood. It wasn't dramatic enough that anyone else would've picked up on it, but he'd spent the better part of three weeks paying attention to her. She pushed food around her plate more than she ate it, and every few minutes her attention drifted before returning to the table and him. Twice, he caught her staring off into space altogether.
The second time, he set down his glass and studied her across the booth. “Okay.”
She blinked. “Okay, what?”
“You've got that look again.”
One eyebrow lifted. “What look?”
“The one where you're somewhere else.”
A faint smile touched her mouth. “I'm sitting right here.”
“Physically.”
That earned another smile, but it faded almost immediately.
Leaning back against the booth, he folded his arms. “Something bothering you?”
“No.”
The answer came fast enough to make him doubt it.
He let a few seconds pass before reaching for his beer. Pushing never got anyone anywhere, and he’d noticed Shylo had a habit of retreating whenever a conversation wandered too close to anything personal.
Still, something felt different tonight.
She sighed and set her fork on the table. “It's just...”
His attention sharpened.
For the first time all evening, it seemed as though she was about to tell him something she hadn't intended to share. Her fingers wrapped around her wine glass, and when she finally spoke, her voice lacked its usual confidence. “You ever find out something that makes you question everything you thought you knew about a person?
He frowned. “Sure. I guess.”
Her gaze remained fixed on the tabletop. “And then you're stuck trying to figure out what to do with it.”
He studied her for a long moment. The question seemed oddly specific, and after the way she'd avoided him for days, his mind went places he didn't particularly like. “Did I do something wrong?”
Her head came up immediately. “What? No.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders. “You sure?”
“Yes, I'm sure.” She looked away again and shook her head. “It's not you.”
Not you.
The words should've reassured him. Instead, they raised about a dozen new questions. “Then what is it?”
For a moment, he thought she was going to tell him.
