Leona’s POV
Dinner was quiet. Not like, weird quiet—but that kinda silence that’s full of stuff no one’s saying. I would look up from my plate sometimes and would catch gaze at Marco already looking at me. Not in a creepy way, just... calm. But unreadable. Like you couldn’t tell if he was mad or thinking about something five miles away.
He barely touched his food. Just moved it around like it was there for decoration or somethin’. I tried to focus on mine; chicken but the way his fingers kept rollin' slow around the rim of his glass? The way his eyes just... stayed on me a little longer than they should’ve when I talked? Yeah. That stuff got in my head. Made me feel weirdly warm, like the collar of my shirt was suddenly too tight.
Marco never rushed anything. That was his thing. Like—h
