“You don’t calm down,” I say. “You flare.”
Her pulse jumps at her throat.
I notice.
She notices that I notice.
“That’s not your business,” she says quietly.
“It kind of is.”
“Why?”
Because I want it to be.
Because when you stood that close to him, I felt something twist in my chest that I don’t recognise.
Because I don’t like that biology picked him first.
Instead, I shrug. “Because I don’t enjoy being the unstable variable.”
“You’re not unstable,” she says, but there’s heat under it.
“Tell that to my system.”
Her eyes flick briefly to Sol and then back to me, like she’s recalculating something.
“You’re not grounding,” she says slowly. “You’re provoking.”
“Is that a complaint?”
“It’s an observation.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “So you’re still paying attention.”
Her gaze drags over me for half a second too long.
My scent spikes before I can stop it.
Her breathing changes.
There it is.
Not the steady alignment she gets with him.
But fire.
Sharp and bright and hungry.
Sol steps closer without making it obvious, and the shift in her body is immediate.
I feel it like a punch.
“She doesn’t need you hovering,” I say, irritation bleeding through now.
“She doesn’t need you escalating,” he replies.
I laugh under my breath. “Escalating? I haven’t touched her.”