She rolled her eyes, got up, and headed for the door. "Goodnight, dumbass."
"Where do you think you're going?" Zayn asked, his voice low but steady, catching her hand before she could reach the door.
Kara froze, her fingers lightly brushing the doorknob.
She turned to look at him, eyes flicking down to where his hand clasped hers.
His grip wasn't tight, just firm enough to tell her that he wasn't ready for her to go — not yet.
Her cheeks, already tinged pink from earlier, flushed deeper.
But what caught her off guard wasn't her own reaction — it was his.
Zayn's cheeks were pink too.
She blinked.
The casual, teasing, maddeningly chill Zayn... was blushing?
Before she could form a witty remark or deflect with one of her usual quips, he took a step forward.
Then another.
Then another.
It was only a couple of paces, but the room felt smaller instantly.
Warmer too.
His hand was still wrapped around hers, and she could feel the nervous energy pulsing from his skin to hers.
