Heknows.
I force myself to move.Take a small sidestep.Get space.Get distance.Getsanity.
“That was—” My voice does not sound normal.I clear my throat, try again.“That was… probably a mistake.”
Joel’s brows lift.“Probably?”
Abort.Abort.
“I mean—” I shake my head frantically.“Definitely.A mistake.Absolutely.Forget it ever happened.”
Joel’s expression tightens.
Like that was the wrong thing to say.
His throat bobs as he swallows, his gaze flickering over my face, as if trying to piece together what’s happening in my head.
And I don’t know why I feel guilty.
I don’t know why it physically hurts to call it a mistake.
Because it wasn’t.
Itsowasn’t.
But if I say that out loud, everything changes.
So I don’t.
I don’t say anything at all.
The silence between us stretches—thick, weighted, dangerous.
Joel is still watching me, but now there’s something else in his expression.Something sharper.He’s standing there, chest still rising and falling too fast, jaw tight, like he wants to call bullshit but doesn’t know if he should.
Because he’s waiting.
Waiting for me to take it back.
Waiting for me to say something real.
I can’t let him see how shaken I actually am.How I can still taste him.Or how I still feel like I’m coming apart at the seams—like something big and terrifying and irreversible just happened, and I don’t know how to put myself back together.
I swallow, the lie still bitter on my tongue.
His gaze flickers down—to my lips, to my fists clenched at my sides.He sees it.
He knows I’m lying.
And I hate that.
I hate that he’s always been able to see through me.
I take another step.
His jaw tics, but he doesn’t stop me.
Doesn’t move at all.