"Vincent!"
Nate’s voice shattered the silence between the three of us, right as Vincent reached the table.
Nate’s fan girls were already leaving, giggling, sneaking last photos. But I did not hear them. I did not see them.
All I saw was the man standing beside me.
Eyes cold. Jaw clenched. Hands in his pockets, but the tension in his shoulders screamed of restraint barely held together. He looked like a rope pulled too tight, one breath away from snapping.
My breath was still uneven. Not from the crowd.
But from him.
"Hey, Nate," Vincent said. Formal. Flat.
No smile. No warmth. Just a glance, quick and sharp, then his eyes dropped to me.
I froze in my seat. Ice slid down my spine and pooled at the base of it. My fingers went numb around my glass.
"Doing good," Nate answered, no sm
