Not Jace.
Not Ghost.
She’s been avoiding me all day like I’m radioactive. Every time I walk into a room, she walks out. Every time I speak to her, she gives me a clipped little “yeah” or “no idea” or “ask someone else.” No smile, no spark.
And yeah, maybe I deserve it. Maybe I was too much and too fast. Maybe she’s ashamed of what we did. Maybe she regrets it.
But why avoid me too…I mean Ghost?
Fuck, this is a mess.
I’m spiraling because I’m losing her as both of me. She’s pulling away from Ghost because she’s guilty. She’s pulling away from Jace because she’s—what? Ashamed? Guilty? Regretting it?
I’m watching it happen in real time, like a slow-motion car crash.
Because a darker part of me liked watching her fidget and blush and try to figure out how to lie to both halves of me.
It’s sick, but it was thrilling.
Because I have something no one else does.
All of her.
Even if she doesn’t know it.
“Jace, hand me that…thanks.”
I pass the plate without thinking.
Fuck this.
I can handle her being angry. I can handle her teasing, even her guilt.
But I can’t handle her indifference.
I can’t handle her ignoring me.
Not Ghost. And sure as fuck not Jace.
She’s been upstairs for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of pretending to smile. Pretending to laugh at some bullshit Tanner said. Pretending to be fine while every second feels like I’m bleeding out.
I can’t take it anymore.
I’m done pretending. Done watching her pull away like this doesn’t kill her too.
“Matt, watch the rice for me. I gotta change.”
I toss the towel over the counter and stalk upstairs, jaw tight, heart pounding.
I reach her door and raise my hand to knock—once, twice—then glance around. If someone catches me in here, I’ve got a problem. So, I grab the handle and walk in, expecting to see her on the bed or out on the balcony.
But the room is empty, the TV is on, and her clothes are thrown over the armchair by the bed. I hear the faintest sound of water running from the ensuite bathroom. I pause by the door, my mind already taking me where I shouldn’t go.
She’s in there.
Naked and wet, water sliding down every inch of her skin. And I’m standing out here like a fucking creep.
I should walk out, go back downstairs, smile through dinner, then talk to her once it’s over.
