Elena’s POV
Dinner felt like something fragile balanced on the edge of a knife. Natalie’s chatter filled the room, her stories about a classmate’s disastrous presentation earning polite laughter from Adrian and me. But underneath it, there was a slow current pulling at us, something unspoken, coiling tighter with every glance exchanged across the table.
By the time Natalie finally excused herself to her room, claiming an early morning study meet, Adrian was already leaning back in his chair, watching me. The muscle at his jaw ticked. I felt it as much as I saw it, that familiar, dark pull between us that never seemed content with gentle.
He waited until we heard Natalie’s door click shut, then rose slowly, circling the table. “You’re very quiet,” he said. His voice had dropped, that low
