I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth gave me away.
Rhys made a quiet sound, like he’d won something, and took another sip of his iced coffee.
“You don’t sleep enough.”
I glanced over at him. “Will you stop telling my mother that shit?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She texts me every morning.‘How many hours did you sleep?’‘Did you eat breakfast?’I swear, I’m one step away from being put on a schedule.”
“Good,” he snorted. “You need one.”
Rude.
“I’ll have you know I got seven consecutive hours last night,” I shot back. “Thank you very much.”
He lowered his coffee slowly, looking at me over the rim. “Seven?”
“Seven.”
“Consecutive? That’s concerning.”
I frowned. “How is that concerning?”
“Because it means you crashed. Which means you were running on fumes before that.”
I nudged the edge of a loose stone with the toe of my shoe, sending it skidding a few inches.
“What time did you fall asleep?” His blue eyes narrowed like he already knew the answer.
“That’s not relevant.”
“It’s extremely relevant.”
I kicked the stone again, harder this time, watching it scrape along the path.
“Archibald.”
“I don’t know,” I muttered. “Late.”
“Late as in midnight, or late as in you lost consciousness mid-thought again?”
“I don’t lose consciousness mid-thought.”
“You literally just described doing that over Pad Thai.”
“That was different.”
He huffed softly, but didn’t press.
I knew that didn’t mean he’d dropped it.
Rhys had a way of sticking close, like if he didn’t, no one else would. His family was halfway across the world most of the year and my mom felt just as far most days.
We’d ended up as the only constant the other had.
Rhys had always looked out for me in ways I didn’t always know how to return. It stopped feeling even a long time ago—and I wasn’t sure he ever noticed.