Page 26 of Gap Control

One corner of his mouth turned upward, the precursor of a smile

When the server left, I toyed with the edge of my napkin.

"You sure you're okay with this?"

Mason paused. "I said yes."

"Right. I don't want you to feel cornered."

"I don't." He looked at me directly. "Not when it's you."

I blinked. My brain stalled just long enough to forget what I was supposed to say next.

Reaching for my water glass, I didn't take a sip. Only held it.

Mason leaned partway across the table. "You're not what I expected, you know."

"Expected how?"

"You talk a lot, but you mean most of it."

"I mean everything." I sounded defensive.

He shook his head slightly. "No. You cover with jokes, but underneath those, you mean it."

I swallowed. "And you? Do you mean half of what you don't say?"

That got a full smile. Mason leaned back, and I thought I saw a sparkle in his eyes.

The food came. We adjusted our plates, passed ketchup, and started eating.

Halfway through the fries, he nudged the plate toward me. Not dramatically. Just enough that I noticed.

"You're not gonna finish those?"

"You like them more."

I grabbed one. "Are you sure you don't moonlight as a romantic lead?"

Another smile.

We were both quiet after that. Two guys sharing food because it was easier than talking.

And then—when I thought the meal was over, and I'd have to face Mercier again—Mason leaned forward a little.

"We should do the photo outside. There's actually sunshine out there."

"Yeah. Good call."

He nodded. "Better now than later. While it still feels like this."

"Feels like what?"

He held my gaze. "Something we chose."

I had no comeback. No joke.

Just a flicker—sharp and stupid and too much—of wanting it to be true.

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