BEATRICE
The scent of garlic and onions fills the cramped kitchen, a soft sizzle in the pan cutting through the quiet. My hands move on autopilot, chopping, stirring and seasoning but my mind is somewhere else entirely.
The way his eyes lingered. The awkward brush of his hand against mine. The silence that felt louder than words.
I can still feel the tension humming just beneath my skin, like static in the air before a storm.
Why did he look at me like that?
The wooden spoon clatters against the side of the pot as I stir too hard. I blink, pulling myself back to the room, my cheeks warm.
"Bea! Hellooo?"
I turn. Teddy's leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, one brow raised in mock irritation. "I've been calling your name for like a full minute."
"Sorry," I mumble, flustered. "W
