4 - Line We Don't Cross
863 Words
Ava could feel his stare. She didn’t even have to look up—she knew Connor was watching.
She smiled brighter.
Ethan’s hand was still wrapped around hers across the table. His thumb traced slow circles against her skin, and if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought he was enjoying it. But she did know better. He was a lawyer—every move was calculated.
Still, her breath hitched. Stupid thumb. Stupid heat curling in her stomach.
“I think your ex is about to spontaneously combust,” Ethan murmured, eyes on her. “Want to make it worse?”
Her smile widened. “Always.”
Before she could ask how, Ethan reached across and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek, lingering just a little too long. She didn’t move.
And then—like they’d summoned him—Connor appeared.
“Ava?”
Her stomach twisted at the sound of his voice.
She looked up slowly, hand still in Ethan’s, and tilted her chin. “Oh. Hi.”
Connor looked off. A little disheveled. A little pissed.
He tried a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Ethan didn’t look at him. He just took a slow sip of his drink, like Connor wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
Ava leaned back, squeezing Ethan’s hand for effect. “It’s our Sunday brunch tradition. We love trying new spots.”
Connor’s gaze darted between them. “You two are… together?”
Ethan finally looked up. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous.
“We are,” he said, voice clipped.
Ava could feel the air between them shift—Connor trying to read the truth, Ethan daring him to question it.
“You’re dating him now?” Connor said to her, incredulous. “I mean, come on, Ava. Really?”
Ava sat up straighter. “Yes. Really.”
“But—”
Ethan stood. Slowly. Smoothly. He buttoned his jacket with a quiet snap, towering over Connor without even trying.
“I think you’ve said enough,” he said.
Connor blinked. “I was just—”
“You were interrupting our brunch,” Ethan said. Still calm. Still terrifying. “And you’re upsetting Ava.”
Ava didn’t even have to fake the flutter in her chest.
Connor looked like he wanted to argue, but instead his gaze fell, jaw tight. “Right. Sorry.”
He turned and walked away, muttering something under his breath. Ava didn’t care what.
When she turned back to Ethan, he was already sitting down again like nothing happened.
“I didn’t need saving,” she said softly.
“I didn’t do it for you,” he replied, sipping his coffee. “I did it for me. He was annoying.”
She rolled her eyes. But her hand was still in his.
And she didn’t pull away.
Ten minutes later, just as Ava was regaining her ability to think straight, their waiter—tall, dark-haired, and aggressively charming—appeared to check on them.
“Everything good with your meals?” he asked, flashing a grin at Ava that was way too bright.
“All perfect,” she said with a polite smile.
Ethan didn’t say anything.
The waiter’s gaze lingered. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you before. Do you live around here?”
Ava blinked. “Uh, yeah. A few blocks away.”
“Thought so.” He smiled again, this time even more directly. “You’ve got a really great smile.”
She felt herself fluster a little. “Thank you.”
Then—bam—Ethan’s arm was around the back of her chair. Not touching her. Just resting. But it felt like a stake in the ground.
The waiter noticed. His smile faded just a bit.
Ethan finally spoke. “We’re fine. Thanks.”
It wasn’t rude. But it wasn’t friendly, either. It was final.
The waiter took the hint and left.
Ava looked at him. “What was that?”
“What?”
“That arm thing. You practically growled at him.”
Ethan didn’t move. “I was staying in character.”
“You don’t have to mark your territory to stay in character,” she whispered.
He looked at her, voice smooth. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
Ava’s stomach flipped.
She searched his face for a trace of emotion, but there was nothing. Blank. Composed.
God, he’s good at this, she thought.
Or maybe I’m bad at pretending it’s not affecting me.
She tried to focus on her food, but her thoughts wouldn’t quiet.
Why did it matter how he looked at me? Why did Ethan care?
It’s all fake. It’s just a game. So why does it feel like he’s actually jealous?
Maybe he just doesn’t like attention. Or maybe it’s ego. Yeah, probably ego.
He’s not possessive. He’s just acting. Right?
But when she stole a glance at Ethan, he was already looking at her.
And the way his eyes lingered—dark, unreadable—made her forget what was real and what was pretend.
She looked away first.
- Writer
