I can't stop thinking about him.
Liana
The next morning, Alex made eggs and toast.
I was supposed to be helping, but I just stood there—spatula in hand, brain in a fog.
"Okay," she said finally, "what's going on?"
I blinked. "What?"
"You've been stirring the same air for five minutes."
I looked down. The pan was empty.
She raised an eyebrow. "You're not subtle, babe."
I set the spatula down. "It's nothing."
Alex folded her arms. "Don't make me pull rank."
I hesitated. Then: "I stopped by Elias's place yesterday."
Her expression didn't change. "To get your book?"
I nodded.
"And…?"
My fingers curled around the edge of the counter.
"I don't know."
"You don't know what happened, or you don't know how you feel about what happened?"
I looked at her.
She waited.
Then I said it, barely above a whisper.
"He hugged me."
Alex's eyebrow twitched. "Hugged you, like…?"
"Like… not just a hug." I swallowed. "Like he didn't want to let go."
"Did you want him to?"
I didn't answer.
"That's a yes," she said.
I hated how easily she could read me.
"I don't know what it means," I said. "He didn't say anything. I didn't either. We just… stood there."
"And now?"
"Now I feel like I'm losing my mind."
Alex poured us both coffee.
"Let me guess," she said. "You're scared it meant something to you—but nothing to him."
I looked away.
"You think maybe it was just a comfort thing. Or maybe he felt bad. Or maybe it was the rain, or hormones, or habit—"
"Okay, I get it."
She leaned against the counter. "Liana. You've lived with him for five years. You know the way he moves, breathes, thinks. Did that hug feel like 'habit' to you?"
My chest tightened.
"…No."
"Then stop pretending you don't know what it was."
I stared at the steam rising from the coffee mug.
"But it doesn't matter," I said. "We're not… anything."
Alex scoffed. "No. You're just the girl who makes a tactical team leader forget how to speak every time you walk into the room."
I blushed. "Alex—"
"I'm serious. I've seen Elias in hostage standoffs with less tension than when you two are in the same kitchen."
My hands trembled.
"So what do I do?"
Alex sipped her coffee. "That depends."
"On what?"
She met my eyes.
"On whether you're ready to stop pretending you don't want more."