“You’re holding something back,” she says.
I tilt my head slightly.
“Am I?”
“Yes,” she replies without hesitation.
A faint smirk pulls at my mouth.
“Maybe I just like watching you work for it,” I say.
Her eyes narrow.
“This isn’t a game.”
“Didn’t say it was.”
“Then stop acting like it,” she snaps.
I step closer, deliberately crossing the last inch of space, my voice dropping.
“You don’t like how I do things,” I say.
“I don’t like unnecessary escalation,” she fires back.
“You stepped into a blind zone alone,” I counter. “Let’s not pretend you’re cautious.”
“That was controlled,” she says.
“So is this.”
Her gaze locks onto mine, steady, unyielding.
“No,” she says. “This is you pushing.”
“And you’re not moving,” I reply.
She doesn’t.
Not even a fraction.
“Focus,” she says, her voice lower now, tighter. “We don’t have time for this.”
“I am focused,” I say. “On you.”
That lands.
I see it in the way her expression shifts, just slightly, before she locks it down again.
“That’s not helpful,” she says.
“It tells me what I need to know,” I reply.
“Which is?”
“That you don’t break,” I say.
Her lips press together, her gaze holding mine.
