Silence stretched between us—thick, suffocating.
Say something. Anything.
"Congratulations." I blurted it before my brain caught up. "On the win. I mean. You won, right? I heard people cheering and—" I was rambling. God, I was rambling. "Anyway. Good game."
His expression shifted. Just barely. Something that might've been warmth flickered behind the exhaustion in his eyes.
"Thanks."
One word. That was all.
But the way he said it—soft, almost surprised—made my pulse stutter.
I gripped my keys harder. Felt the metal bite into my palm.
"I should—" I gestured vaguely toward the exit.
Rhys nodded once. Didn't move.
Neither did I.
The hallway felt impossibly narrow. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in sterile white that somehow made the moment feel more intimate than it should.
His gaze drifted down—just for a second—to the keys in my hand. Back up to my face.
"You okay?"
The question caught me off guard.
"Yeah. Fine. Just… lost my keys for a second." I tried to smile. Failed. "Found them though. So. All good."
He didn't look convinced.
I shifted my weight, suddenly hyperaware of how close we were standing. How broad his shoulders looked even under the hoodie. How his presence filled the entire corridor without him doing anything at all.
"I'm not keeping you?" I asked. "From… whatever you were?—"
"No." Flat. Immediate. Like he had nowhere else to be. Like standing in a hallway with me at nearly midnight was exactly where he wanted to be.
That couldn't be right.
I swallowed hard and moved to step past him.
He shifted sideways. Silent. Giving me space.
I walked forward two steps. Stopped. Turned back without meaning to.
He was watching me. Still leaning against the wall, hands still buried in his pockets, expression still locked down tight.
But his eyes…
Something in his eyes felt heavy. Weighted. Like he wanted to say something he couldn't.
Or wouldn't.
My throat went dry.
"I'll walk you to your car."
