(Adrian's POV).
“Are you gonna sulk into your next life or finally talk about it?”
Lucas didn’t even look at me. His fingers drummed against the sweating glass of beer in front of him, his jaw tight, eyes fixed on a c***k in the wood-grain bar like it had personally offended him.
The bar was buzzing—celebrants from the competition were laughing, clinking shot glasses, and letting off steam. But Lucas sat like a loaded gun in the middle of it all. Dangerous. Tense.
“Lucas,” I pressed, leaning toward him, “when are you gonna get over yourself and talk to Lena?”
He finally turned his head, slow and deliberate. His eyes, shadowed by the dim overhead lights, flared for a second.
“Don’t start with me. I'm not in the mood.”
“I’m serious,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You’re in love
