Page 113 of Game Misconduct

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“Okay.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

Like we’re both waiting for something neither of us can do.

The silence pulls tight around us, weighted with the kiss we don’t dare have and the touch we can’t risk.

I grip my purse tighter.

“I’ll see you at The Apex,” he says finally.

I nod. “Okay.”

Another beat. His jaw tics.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow tonight,” he adds, softer now.

My chest clenches.

“Me too,” I whisper.

He steps back then. Just one step. Just enough to let me go.

I open the car door and get in, hands trembling more than I’d like.

When I glance up, he’s walking toward his car, but looking over his shoulder at me.

The drive home only takes ten minutes.

He follows me the whole way, headlights two cars behind like a shadow I invited.

We don’t text. We don’t call.

But when I park in the garage at The Apex, he’s right there, pulling into his usual spot like this is normal.

Like we’ve done it a hundred times before.

I grab my bag and head to the elevator, pulse thudding with every step.

He doesn’t rush to catch up. Just falls into step beside me like we’ve been walking together forever.

The elevator dings, and we step inside.

I swipe my card and press PH.

He presses seven.

A charged silence wraps around. Like there’s a string pulled tight between us, vibrating with every breath I take.

We stand apart from each other, me on one side, him on the other. It’s like we know if we’re too close, we’ll do something to get us caught.

He doesn’t say anything, and I’m too aware of the fact that we’re alone in a box with mirrors and secrets and nowhere to put either.

The elevator glides past the second floor, and stops at the third.

The doors slide open and Jace Rourke is on the other side.

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