Dylan's POV
We keep walking, streets and cars blending into a blur around us. My mind refuses to let go of Xander's words — you two seem different. Different. Yeah. That's the understatement of the year.
I glance at Ana, who walks beside me with a calm exterior that barely hides the fire behind her eyes. "You holding up?" I ask, trying to sound casual. She shrugs, lips twitching in a faint smile. "I'm fine. Really."
But I know her. She's anything but fine when Xander is around. My jaw tightens. That spoon this morning. That small, reckless moment where I tasted her oatmeal, and she didn't even flinch. It should have been nothing, but it wasn't. And now, every time our hands brush, every time her shoulder touches mine, I feel it again — that heat, that connection.
Back at the apartment, I drop my bag by the door. Work can wait. It's already too late to go in anyway. I linger in the kitchen, watching her unpack groceries, trying to act casual while every muscle in my body is keyed to her presence.
"You okay?" I ask again, softer this time. She glances up at me, and for the briefest second, our eyes lock. "I'm fine," she says, but there's a warmth in her tone that makes my chest tighten.
"Did Xander say anything weird?" I probe gently. Ana chuckles softly, shaking her head. "No, just… noticing things." I smirk. "I noticed you noticed him noticing." Her eyes widen slightly, then she laughs quietly, shaking her head. "Maybe."
We unpack the groceries in companionable silence, passing bags to each other. Our fingers brush again, a spark traveling through both of us. Every movement feels heavier, charged.
Hours pass with quiet chores — laundry, tidying up, putting things away. I can feel her presence, magnetic, near and yet somehow distant.
As dinner approaches, I start chopping vegetables for our meal, and she joins me. I reach for a knife, brushing her arm lightly. She shivers, and I smirk down at her. "You're predictable," I tease.
She rolls her eyes but doesn't pull away. "You're just too attentive." I lean a little closer, voice low. "Because I care." The words hang between us, unsaid but felt.
____
Ana's POV
The streets blur around me as Dylan walks beside me. His presence is solid, steady, and I cling to it more than I realize. "Holding up?" he asks.
"I'm fine. Really," I reply, though my chest is still tight from Xander's words earlier. I force a smile, trying to make it sound believable.
But I can feel him, see the way his jaw tightens ever so slightly. The spoon from breakfast flares in my mind — the way he leaned in without hesitation, the warmth that bloomed when our eyes met. It should have been insignificant, but it wasn't.
Back at home, we drop our things by the door. I start unpacking the groceries, trying to focus, but I can feel his gaze on me, quiet and constant.
"You okay?" he asks again, softer this time. I glance up at him. "I'm fine," I say, but there's a small smile playing on my lips. "Did Xander say anything weird?" he asks, gentle. I shake my head, chuckling softly. "No, just… noticing things."
"I noticed you noticed him noticing," he says with a smirk. "Maybe," I reply, laughter hiding the truth of my racing thoughts.
We move around the kitchen, passing bags to each other, our fingers brushing and sending sparks through me. Each mundane action feels heavier, charged, weighted with unspoken words.
Hours drift by as we tidy, do laundry, and settle things in the apartment. I keep stealing glances at Dylan, noticing his careful movements, the subtle ways he watches me without my knowing.
When dinner time comes, we stand side by side at the counter, chopping vegetables. He reaches for a knife and brushes my arm lightly. A shiver runs down my spine, and I can't help but smile.
"You're predictable," he teases. "Too attentive," I reply, rolling my eyes. "Because I care," he says, voice low.
I catch the heat behind his eyes, and the warmth inside me mirrors it. The spoon, Xander, the touch — it's all tangled together, unspoken, undeniable. Everything has shifted, and neither of us will say a word. Not yet.