Page 65 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

"You're laying it on a little thick."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "I'm actually holding back."

Coach Miller called us in and announced mixed pairs for the station rotations. Black and James was the third name called. We headed for station two together.

The first thirty minutes were a steady-pace run on the outer lane. Jackson settled into a pace that felt natural. I matched it without thinking. He had never been shy about being close to me, but something had definitely changed since Tuesday night. When we first started running together he used to leave a polite half-foot of space. His arm brushed mine on the curve and stayed there for two full strides before he eased off.

The hour followed the same quiet pattern in different forms. His hand at my hip when he passed me a water bottle. His knuckles brushing the small of my back at every station change. Once, while we waited for the whistle, his thumb traced the side of my neck for half a second and was gone. My cat liked the attention entirely too much.

I could feel the wolves watching us.

Naomi’s stare was the sharpest. She didn’t even try to hide it. Most of the girls looked like they’d bitten into something sour. The guys kept doing double takes, whispering, trying to figure out why the alpha’s son was hovering around someone who wasn’t even a wolf.

Jackson either didn't notice or didn't care. Either way, he kept touching me — small, deliberate brushes that made it very clear to everyone watching that something had changed between us.

I should've stopped him. I never did.

We finished at half past eleven. Jackson handed me my water bottle before I even reached for it. He lingered a moment longer than necessary, eyes on my face.

“I’d walk you home if I could,” he said.

“You say that like I need an escort.”

“I know you don’t,” he replied, the corner of his mouth curving. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to. But my father wants me on the territory this afternoon. Pack business.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

He gave a low chuckle. “Try not to miss me too much.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’ll manage.”

He studied me for another second, then nodded. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.”

He left with that faint, private smile. I kept watching until he disappeared into the cluster of the men's team.

I showered quickly after practice, changed into jeans and a soft black sweater. I was hungry, and I wanted something sweet.

There was a small coffee shop on Maple I’d been to once before. I walked over, ordered a flat white and an almond croissant, and took the corner table by the window.

My phone buzzed a few minutes later.

Jackson: do you think cats judge us when we talk to them in baby voices

Me: they definitely do

Jackson: good. means they’re paying attention

Me: you’re ridiculous

Jackson: make you smile

A small smile slipped out before I could stop it. I set the phone down, took a sip of my coffee, and tore off a piece of the croissant. The coffee was good.

I had been there about ten minutes, absently watching the street, when I noticed Lia across the road with two shopping bags. She was walking past the café. Then she slowed, looked toward the windows, and crossed the street.

I watched her come.