-POV Derby
The pantry felt too small for everything we weren’t saying.
Jordan’s hand was still on my waist, warm and steady, while his other palm cupped my cheek like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. The air between us was thick, charged, the kind of silence that pressed against my skin and made it hard to breathe. I could feel every inch of him — the heat of his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the way his thumb kept brushing my lower lip like he couldn’t stop touching me.
I hated how much I wanted him to keep doing it.
I hated how safe I still felt.
“You don’t get to say things like that,” I whispered, voice cracking. “You don’t get to stand there and tell me this isn’t a coincidence anymore. Not after I just watched her touch you like she still owns you.”
The words t
