Page 22 of No Save Point

Then Carter pulls away, slow, his eyes finding mine like he’s checking to see if I felt it too. I swallow hard. Because I did, and from the way he’s looking at me now, like he’s trying to figure out what the hell to do with this new piece of information, I think he did too.

The conversation shifts into something easier, smoother, the kind of back-and-forth that feels like second nature, like we’re slipping into a rhythm we’ve had all along but are only now realizing exists outside of a screen. Carter is… different in person. Not completely, he’s still easygoing, still teases me just enough to keep me on my toes, still watches me with that steady, unreadable gaze that makes me overthink everything I say. But there’s something else now. I don’t know if I like it. Or maybe I do, and that’s a whole new problem.

The minutes slip by without me realizing it, the outside world narrowing down to just this booth, this table, this moment.

Just as I start to settle into it, Cassie stretches her arms overhead, obnoxiously disrupting the fragile balance that had been keeping my thoughts from spiraling into a full-blown crisis.

“Welp,” she says, checking her phone. “That’s my cue.”

I blink. “What?”

She grins, sliding out of the booth. “My ride’s here.”

The words hit like a slow-moving realization, creeping into my brain one syllable at a time. I shift in my seat, suddenly too aware of how little space there is between me and Carter, of the fact that once Cassie walks out that door, it’s just going to be the two of us.

Cassie knows exactly what she’s doing. She leans down, pressing a quick kiss to the top of my head before throwing Carter one last, borderline-threatening look. “Be good,” she says, but her tone makes it sound more like a warning.

Carter just smirks. “Can’t make any promises.”

Cassie snorts, grabs her bag, and heads for the door. And just like that—she’s gone.

The second the diner door swings shut behind her, the entire atmosphere shifts. Not in a huge, dramatic way, nothing obvious, nothing earth-shattering. Just smaller, quieter, heavier.

I wrap my hands around my glass, fingers pressing into the cool condensation, my brain scrambling for something casual to say, something that doesn’t make this moment feel as significant as it suddenly does. Carter doesn’t move right away.

He just sits there, one arm draped over the back of the booth, his body relaxed but his eyes too sharp, too focused, tracking my every shift, like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do first.

Like he’s trying to figure out how this night changes now that it’s just us. I clear my throat, my voice betraying nothing, even though my pulse is saying otherwise. “So, does this mean I finally get to know where you’re taking me next?”

Carter tilts his head slightly, then he smiles, but there’s something else behind it now. “Impatient huh?” he asks.

I roll my eyes, grateful for something normal to latch onto. “I think I’ve earned some information at this point.”

Carter hums, tapping his fingers against the table. “Hmm. Maybe.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re actually just going to keep me guessing all night, aren’t you?”

He grins, and for a second, it feels dangerous. Like he’s enjoying this too much, like he knows something I don’t. “Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, sweetheart.”

My breath catches, just for a second. Because that voice, that nickname. I’m used to it sure, he’s been calling me that since forever.

But this is different, this isn’t a message on a screen. This is real, in-person, direct, his voice lower than usual, just rough enough around the edges to sink into my skin. I reach for my drink again, needing something to busy my hands, something to keep me from thinking too hard about the way my body is reacting to him.

Carter leans forward slightly, like he’s about to say something else—then the waitress swings by with the check, breaking the moment just as fast as it started. I exhale slowly, dragging my nails against the curve of my glass as Carter grabs the receipt before I can even move.

I glare at him. “I can pay for my own food, you know.”

Carter barely glances up, signing the slip with easy confidence. “Not tonight.”

I cross my arms. “That’s not fair.” He finally looks at me, one brow arched. “And?”

I hate that I don’t have a response to that. I just huff, grabbing my bag, determined not to let this turn into something bigger than it is.

Carter stands too, and suddenly, I’m reminded just how much bigger he is than me. How he takes up more space than I thought he would, how close he feels even when he’s not touching me.

His voice is lighter when he speaks again, like he’s cutting the tension just enough. “Come on. Before you start getting ideas about paying me back.”

I roll my eyes, but follow him toward the door.

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