When did I stop fighting this?
Phoenix is watching us from across the table.
Not with jealousy, not at all. More like he's trying to figure out where he fits in this equation. Whether there's room for him in whatever's happening between Bells and me, or if he's on the outside looking in right now.
I catch his eye and hold it, trying to communicate something I don't have words for. Because I'm just the lucky bastard who happens to be sitting next to her right now.
He perks up more, hopeful and… cute.
Fuck.FUCK.
"We should probably get the check," he says, clearing his throat. "Before Bells steals the rest of your lunch."
"Too late," Bells says cheerfully, snagging the last piece of chicken from my plate.
"You're the worst," I tell her.
"And yet you're still holding my hand."
She's right.
Iamstill holding her hand.
Like we're just three people who touch each other casually, who share space and food and aren't a blossoming fuckingpack.
I signal to May for the check mostly to give myself something to do with my free hand.
The argument over who's paying is familiar territory. Phoenix insists he's got it because he's the one who suggested lunch. I counter that I'm the one who actually has cash. Bells tries to pull out her card and we both shut her down immediately.
Phoenix is already slapping his card down, and I have this irrational, stupid alpha urge to fight him for the check. Maybe even physically fight him. I stamp that down quick, but it feels like there's an angel on my shoulder and a devil on the other, and they're both kind of alphaholes sometimes.
We slide out of the booth and Bells goes back to being physically distant now that we're in front of other people. Phoenix falls into step on her other side, close but not touching.
Even with the distance, we look like something.
I don't know what yet, but… something.
The rain has eased to a drizzle, and Bells tilts her face up to catch it, laughing at something Phoenix says. His grin goes soft in a way I've only seen directed at one person before.
Nash.
He used to look at Nash like that. When he thought no one was watching. When he forgot to hide it.
Phoenix catches me staring. His smile falters, vulnerability flickering across his face before he shutters it away.
Too late. I saw it.
I sawhim.
"You okay?" Bells asks, looking up at me. "You look like someone just walked over your grave."
"Fine," I manage. "Just... thinking."
"Dangerous habit." She grins up at me. "Try to keep it to a minimum."
We pile into the car, Phoenix and Bells in the back, clearly making up for lost contact time at the restaurant while I grip the fuck out of the steering wheel and turn on the radio so I don't have to talk.
Because I'm not just falling for Bells.