The dorm room was thick with unspoken tension, the only sound the hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chatter of students lingering on the quad. Asher sat on the edge of Rayla's bed, his bare back rigid, the muscles along his shoulders taut with whatever he wasn’t saying. He had to tell her, but he didn't know how.
Rayla traced idle circles over his skin, her fingers following the ridges of his back fine veins she’d memorized by now. The warmth of him beneath her touch was familiar, grounding—but tonight, even that wasn’t enough to ease the knot in her chest.
She knew this silence.
Knew the way his jaw worked when he was holding back words he thought she wouldn’t like. Knew the tension in his hands, the way his fingers flexed like he was physically restraining himself from saying so
