Chapter 5 I Never Meant to Want Him

Tessa didn't know what she expected when Nathan texted her, but it wasn't him being... gentle.

"Game night at my place. You in?"

That was it. No half-apologies. No stupid emojis. Just five clean words that wrapped around her ribs and pulled, because it was so rare-him offering her something normal, something easy, something shared.

She replied Sure before she could talk herself out of it.

She thought it might feel weird walking into his house again-after everything, after the girl on his lap, after she cried all the way home with mascara clinging to her jawline and her mouth aching from everything she never said.

But it didn't feel weird.

It felt worse.

It felt good.

Nathan opened the door barefoot, in sweats and a hoodie hanging off one shoulder. His curls were messy, his face freshly shaved, dimples out like he knew exactly what they did to her.

"You came," he said, soft and surprised.

She didn't trust her voice, so she nodded and slipped past him into the warmth of the house.

Candles flickered on the kitchen counter. The guys were out on the balcony talking trash over beers and playlists. The game was on mute, a soft background hum to everything else-including the look on Nathan's face every time their eyes met.

He hovered close, but didn't cling.

And somehow, that messed with her more than if he'd just pulled her into his room and kissed her until her brain shut off. He was kind. He asked about school. Laughed when she was sarcastic. Reached for her hand once, let his thumb trace the edge of her palm like he was testing the idea of holding it.

And God-, she let him.

Because the more she tried to armor herself, the more it all slipped. The years peeled back like skin. The tutoring sessions. Lunches under that one crooked oak tree. The night he walked her home in the rain and gave her his hoodie even though he was the one shivering. All the almosts. All the maybes. All the ways she let herself be soft just to stay near him.

He waited until the others left to really reach for her.

They were in the hallway near the kitchen, standing too close, the kind of close that makes your breath shift.

"I miss you," he said-and it wasn't cocky or careless.

It was real.

"I know I was an asshole. But I miss us. I miss you."

She wanted to laugh. But the lump in her throat didn't let her.

"You don't even know who I am, Nathan."

"I do," he said quickly. "I do now. I was blind. But I'm not anymore."

He reached out, knuckle brushing her cheek-light, tender, soft enough to snap her in half.

"Let me show you."

Their mouths were close. Their foreheads nearly touched. She almost let herself fall into it.

Almost.

But instead she whispered, "I need the bathroom first," because she needed space. She needed to breathe.

He smiled and pointed down the hallway.

She walked toward it on shaky legs.

And never made it.

Because Dorian was already there.

Standing at the end of the hallway like a secret she'd tried to forget. Slate shirt, sleeves rolled, no tie, watch catching the light like it had something to say. He wasn't leaning. He wasn't moving. Just watching her like he'd been waiting.

She stopped so suddenly her shoes squeaked.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed.

His eyes moved slowly over her. "Meeting with Evelyn," he said, voice cool. "Sponsorship paperwork."

"At midnight?" she snapped.

He tilted his head. "You always ask this many questions in someone else's house?"

She walked toward him before she realized she was doing it.

"Are you following me?"

"No," he said simply. "But somehow, you always end up where I am."

He stepped forward, slow and controlled.

The hallway shrank. The air thickened.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, but her voice didn't sound like conviction. It sounded like surrender.

"And yet you're the one who walked toward me."

His hand found her waist-light, deliberate, maddening. She inhaled too fast, froze.

The tension between them pulsed.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered.

He held her gaze like it cost him something.

"I came for a meeting."

Another step.

His hand shifted, resting at the small of her back.

"But now..." he murmured, "I'm wondering how long I can pretend I'm not imagining what you taste like."

Her lips parted. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

His mouth hovered over hers-so close it blurred the line between touch and temptation.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.

She couldn't move.

His eyes dropped to her mouth.His thumb brushed along her hip.Her knees went soft.

And then-just barely-his lips grazed hers. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just enough to undo her completely.

And then-

"Dad?"

It hit like a grenade in a glass house.

Tessa flinched back like she'd been slapped.

Dorian didn't move. Didn't speak.

Nathan stood at the other end of the hallway. His voice was small. Fractured.

"What the fuck is going on?"