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And that’s kind of what it reminds me of. A rising and falling of tones and pitches, and it’s…god, it’s kind of beautiful. I can understand that Quilliyn is worried, and though it’s over too quickly for me to process individual words, I know that someone might be in trouble.

And then suddenly I’m back in my body, holding on to the weight bench as I sway, and Quilliyn is nowhere to be found. God, what the fuck just happened? What just⁠—

Oh no. Eissa…

He’s here.

I can feel him like he’s breath in my lungs, or the heart beating in my chest. My skin prickles, and I feel an odd sensation on the side of my neck, like…I want to be bitten. Like I want to feel his long, pointed tongue lapping at my blood.

I have no idea where the fuck that’s coming from, but I can’t stop it. And because I’m not as delusional about myself as Eissa, I also can’t deny it.

I turn without thinking, and my eyes scan the room. It takes me five seconds to find him. He’s at the front counter, leaning over to speak with Quilliyn, who’s both talking and gesturing with his hands.

The moment my gaze settles on him, he stiffens. Then his head turns slowly.

His rainbow eyes find mine, locking my gaze to his, and for a moment I can’t move. I’m utterly trapped by him. It’s hard to breathe. All I know is the visceral, profound need to have his arms wrapped around me, gripped so tight his claws sink into my flesh.

And then he looks away and the moment shatters.

Fuck you, I send in my head.

I see him stiffen, then suck in a breath and let it out, but he doesn’t look over again.

A growl threatens to rise in my throat, and suddenly everything in me feels reckless. I will not be ignored, goddamn it. He will not continue to move in and out of my own personal bubble—ruining what little progress I’ve made getting over him—whenever he fucking feels like it.

My gaze catches on Tyler, and I wave at him. ‘Can I ask question?’

His brows shoot up. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’

‘You ever kiss man?’

He blinks at me then signs, ‘Sign again.’

I do it slower, hoping that Eissa is watching, that he can understand me.

I know he can.

Fucker.

Tyler just blinks, and his mouth forms a small O. After a second, he shrugs and signs, ‘Drunk, parties, sometimes.’

Good enough for me. ‘Will you kiss me?’

He swallows, then licks his lips, gaze flickering to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. I see him say aloud, “Uh…now?”

Luckily he’s very easy to lip-read. ‘Yes.’

His cheeks go mottled pink. ‘Gay. Not me.’

I fight the urge to burst into a tense, hysterical laughter. ‘I know.’ Hesitating, I step up and reach for him, turning his back to Eissa and Quilliyn, then I cup the side of his neck tenderly. “Pretend,” I whisper. Well, I think I whisper.

He swallows heavily again. “Why?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to tell him. I just want Eissa to see. I want him to hurt. I want him to feel the same kind of pain of rejection I feel every time he moves into my space, takes what he wants, then tosses me aside.

‘Trust,’ I sign again. My hand moves to Tyler’s cheek, and I stroke it carefully. Tyler’s breath trembles as it comes out. He might eventually want to analyze the way I’m making him feel right now, but that’s a problem for a future Tyler. ‘Please?’

“Okay,” I can tell he’s whispering from the way a rush of breath hits me in the face, and luckily, he smells like mint.