“Jason,” I said, low and careful.
He waved a hand, as if he could erase the topic. “No. Look. I don’t want to make it weird.”
“It’s already weird.”
He laughed again, helpless. “Yeah. Okay. It’s already weird.”
We held each other’s gaze. Peanut hopped between us, then flopped around with a sigh, perfectly content to exist in the middle of emotional devastation.
Jason’s eyes softened. “I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward situation.”
I forced a shrug. “You didn’t. It’s fine.”
He stared at me, then leaned forward slightly. “Stop saying that.”
“But it’s fine.”
Jason’s eyes held mine for a beat too long, like he was waiting for me to say something that would either save him or finish him off. I didn’t give him either. I let the silence do what it always did best. Smother.
I shifted the strap of my backpack higher on my shoulder and nodded toward the desk. “I brought practice,” I said. “Just assignments. You do them, I tell you where you go wrong, you do them again.”
Jason’s shoulders dropped a fraction, relief disguised as a shrug. “Okay. Yeah. That’s good. That’s normal.”
Normal. Right.
I crossed the room and set my notebook and the printed sheets on his desk, stacking them with more care than the paper deserved. My fingers moved like everything was fine, and I wasn’t still aware of his mouth on mine, like my thoughts hadn’t been dragging that moment around by the collar all day.
Jason hesitated behind me. Peanut had hoppeddown from the bed and was nosing at my shoes again, tail swishing like he had forgiven every human mistake in existence.
“Do you want…water or something?” Jason asked.
“I’m good.”
I took a chair by the desk, then changed my mind immediately. Sitting beside him would be too much. My skin was already too aware of his, as if my body had memorized him in one stupid second and now wanted more data.
He was too shirtless, too free with himself and his movements, and too likely to touch me in passing.
So I stepped back and sat on the edge of his bed instead, turning sideways and propping a pillow behind me. I leaned my elbow into it and rested my cheek against my hand.
Jason moved to the desk and sat. The chair creaked under him. He dragged the first sheet closer, picked up a pencil, and stared at the questions like they were written in an ancient language.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Okay. I can do this.”
“Yes,” I said. “You can.”
He glanced at me, quick and searching, then back down. The pencil hovered over the page.
A few seconds passed.
Then his voice came softer. “You look tired.”
I blinked, surprised by the observation. He had no business noticing me like that. He noticed everyone. That was his whole thing. Easy charm, easy attention, handed outlike flyers.
But this didn’t feel like that.
“I didn’t sleep well,” I admitted.
Jason’s brows pulled together. “Because of…Stats?”