Page 33 of Gap Control

It was a quiet claim, close enough to feel like it mattered.

Those were the parts of TJ I hadn't expected. The small stuff. His voice. How he said my name. How he was never performing when he looked at me, even though we were supposed to be pretending.

It wasn't supposed to feel good, but it did. That scared the hell out of me.

I didn't know how to want something without looking for the cracks and how it might all blow up. I didn't know how to trust with ease.

TJ made it hard to control the gap between us. He didn't come at me with force. He only showed up, again and again. I was starting to forget to brace myself.

I glanced over.

He was laughing again—loud, unfiltered, whole-body laughter that pulled the attention of half the room. His head tipped back, hand over his chest, like whatever Monroe had said had knocked the wind out of him.

He looked happy, a little tired, and at home. When he caught me watching, he didn't look away.

"You good?"

"Yeah." I turned back to my drink.

It wasn't exactly a lie; it was more like a placeholder.

The truth was still moving. I just hadn't figured out where I wanted it to land.

We stepped out into the cold night just after eleven. The freezing air hit hard—sharp and clean after the heat and noise inside. My ears rang from the sudden quiet.

The team scattered in twos and threes, heading toward the hotel. Someone yelled goodnight. Monroe waved like we were all on a sitcom. Brady gave us a mock salute and disappeared down the sidewalk.

TJ walked beside me, hands jammed in his jacket pockets, head down like he was thinking about something.

The street was mostly empty. A light dusting of mid-October snow clung to the curb. Traffic lights blinked on autopilot.

"You cold?" he asked.

I shook my head.

We crossed at the corner. The hotel came into view a block ahead—enough light in the windows to feel watched, even if no one was looking.

He glanced sideways. "Thanks for tonight."

"It was your idea."

"Still. Thanks for not letting me make an ass of myself in public. Well, less of one than usual."

"You're welcome.

Outside the hotel, we paused.

He didn't ask if I wanted to keep walking. I didn't ask if he wanted to stay outside a little longer.

Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled foil packet of mints. Held one out to me.

I took it. Unwrapped it. Let it sit on my tongue.

"You sure you're okay?" It sounded like he actually wanted to know.

"I'm fine."

TJ looked up toward the hotel. "Guess this is the part where we pretend the night's over and we didn't almost have a moment."

---