The group fell into a sudden, awkward silence. Even the night air seed to pause.
Phoebe blinked. gan raised a brow. Keith looked mildly alard.
Craig never offered rides. Ever.
rlina stared, caught off guard by the sudden vulnerability behind his steady eyes.
Her heart jumped again, like the first ti she saw him in the theater, only heavier this ti.
"Oh," she said, trying to sound casual. "Okay. Yeah. That... works."
Craig nodded once, slipping his hands into his pockets.
Phoebe equally raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Well, now I’m starving. Barsea awaits!"
As the group began to disperse, rlina fell into step beside Craig, her pulse fluttering.
She didn’t know what the car ride would bring. Or what she was ready to say.
Louis turned to rlina. "I’ll text you when I get ho."
Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her. Quick, casual, and just a little too public.
Her breath stalled, not from the act, but from the charged awareness that Craig was watching.
Her stomach twisted. The silence after the kiss felt heavier than it should have. Craig didn’t speak, yet his presence pressed in around her, stirring a guilt she didn’t fully understand.
rlina pulled back and forced a smile. "Bye, Louis."
He gave a two-finger wave to the others and walked off toward the parking lot.
She lingered a mont too long, pretending to fix her hair just to avoid turning around. Then finally, she faced him.
"Ready?"
Craig didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into his pocket and tossed her his car keys. She caught them on reflex, brows lifting in surprise.
"You drive gan," he said, his tone flat, like he’d decided not to feel anything at all. "I’ll ride with Keith."
Before she could respond, he turned and walked off, leaving her standing there with the keys in her hand and a thousand questions in her chest.
rlina stood frozen for a second, Craig’s car keys still warm in her hand. She stared after him, trying to make sense of the shift in his mood. Was it the kiss? Or sothing else entirely?
The car was a sleek black rcedes AMG coupe, waited for her in the lot. Elegant. Fast. Absolutely not the kind of ride she’d ever imagined driving, especially not while Craig sulked off like so misunderstood anti-hero in a college drama.
She drove in silence, following Keith’s directions to Barsea. The mood shifted the second they entered the restaurant. Neon lights. Clinking glasses. Loud music humming just beneath a layer of casual conversation.
Phoebe was already in rare form. "Keith, you don’t have eagle eyes, you have duck eyes," she said with a laugh, sliding into the booth like she owned the place.
gan followed, tossing her curls over her shoulder. "Duck eyes and the attention span of a goldfish," she added. "Seriously, how did you miss that girl flirting with you? She practically threw her phone number at your face."
Keith held up his hands in defense, smirking. "Maybe I’m just humble. Can’t help it if I don’t walk around assuming every girl wants ."
Phoebe snorted. "Oh please. You practically walked into a wall because you were staring at your own reflection in the window."
"Okay wow—" Keith began, but gan cut him off.
"We’re just saying, it’s wild how confident you are for soone who can’t tell a wink from an eye twitch."
Keith blinked, pretending to be hurt. "Y’all ca here to hang out or destroy my ego?"
Phoebe and gan exchanged a look, then in perfect sync, both replied, "Yes."
Keith laughed, but leaned back dramatically in his chair. "Craig, you need to rescue . These girls are onto ."
"Don’t hold your breath," Phoebe shot back, almost imdiately. "Craig’s way too cool and cocky to rescue anyone but his own ego."
Craig didn’t miss a beat. "Yeah, sorry... what was your na again?"
Phoebe gasped, clutching her chest like she’d been wounded. "r-li-na," she said, slow and exaggerated. "I guess you’ll never forget that one."
Craig’s eyes flicked to rlina, brows narrowing, then back to Phoebe. "What the hell?"
rlina shifted, her smile strained. "I think Phoebe’s maybe had a little too much to drink."
But Phoebe just rolled her eyes and powered through, unbothered. "Craig, seriously. You need to loosen up. You always act like you’ve got stocks to monitor."
Craig’s voice dropped, cold and clipped. "Can we not talk about right now?"
The tension buzzed around the table like static.
Keith, clearly trying to pivot, raised his glass with a grin too wide to be natural. "Sure. Let’s talk about gan." He turned with a lopsided grin. "Phoebe says you don’t like guys. Spill."
The table fell into an uneasy silence. gan froze mid-sip, lowering her glass slowly.
Her voice ca out calm, but razor-sharp. "Wow. Cool way to phrase that, Keith."
"Co on, we won’t judge. You a lesbian or sothing?" Keith asked, eyeing gan with with an obnoxious smile
Phoebe looked up, suddenly sobered. "Keith—"
"No, no," gan said, her smile tight. "I’d love to ’spill.’ Maybe right after Keith tells us if he’s always this tactless or just when he’s drunk." She flicked a piece of cold chips at him.
Keith dodged, laughing way too hard.
Craig leaned back, arms crossed, eyes scanning the group like he was regretting every second of being there.
rlina picked at the label on her bottle, wishing she could disappear.
Phoebe gave an awkward laugh. "Okay, let’s all chill. Keith was just being... Keith."
gan rolled her eyes. "I like guys. Just not the ones Phoebe keeps pushing onto ."
Phoebe gasped dramatically. "So Landon’s out? And Bryan? What about Christian? The one with the hair? Or what’s-his-na from Physics Lab who wears glasses like Clark Kent?"
The table erupted in light laughter. For a mont, it almost felt normal, easy.
Until rlina’s phone vibrated. Once
Craig: I need to talk to you. It’s important.
rlina’s smile faltered. Her heart gave a sudden lurch.
She glanced up—and found Craig already looking at her. Eyes locked. Unblinking. Completely unreadable.
Not a single twitch in his expression to betray that he’d just ssaged her.
Her breath caught.
He looked away, calmly lifting his glass like nothing had happened. Like he wasn’t secretly texting her right in front of their friends.
She blinked, unsure on how to handle this, her fingers tightening around the glass, then her thumb hovered as she typed back.
rlina: Now?
His reply ca almost instantly. Another buzz.
Craig: What happened with you and Conor?
She stared at the ssage, her fingers tingling. The air around her suddenly felt heavier.
rlina: There’s nothing to talk about. He says he’s not responsible. That’s it.
Another buzz, she shifted uncomfortably in her sit as she held up her phone to read.
Craig: et at the restroom. Please. You go first, then I’ll follow. I need to talk to you, alone.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She blinked hard, willing her hands to stay still as she typed. But her mind was racing.
Was he serious? Right now? She looked up at him again, and there he was, mid-sip, cool as ever. Like he hadn’t just texted her that he needed her. Alone.
Phoebe tilted her head slightly, squinting. Her eyes darted between rlina and Craig, then narrowed. "Why are you guys both on your phones?"
rlina jumped, her hand knocking her water glass just enough to make it wobble. She caught it mid-fall, heat rushing up her neck.
Before rlina could even think of a reply, Keith chid in, grinning. "And paying no attention."
"I—sorry," she stamred. "I was just texting Louis." She flipped her phone face-down like it had betrayed her. "Checking on him."
gan raised a brow, not bothering to hide her smirk. "Let guess, he’s still married to his spreadsheets and economic models?"
rlina forced a breathy laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Sothing like that." She took a sip of her drink, then looked over at Craig, who didn’t bother explaining anything.
The conversation moved on, the air growing lighter again—until Craig, completely deadpan, reached for his glass and "accidentally" tipped it toward her.
The red wine splashed across her skirt—not a full spill, just a few drops, but enough to leave a faint stain that couldn’t be ignored.
"Oh my God," she said, standing abruptly. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide—like she knew, deep down, that he’d done it on purpose.
Craig stood too, calm as ever. "Sorry," he muttered. "Let help."
She stared at him, waiting—half-expecting soone at the table to call it out, to say ’really, Craig?’
But no one did.
No one questioned it.
Monts later, inside the dimly lit restroom, rlina stood by the sink, dabbing at the red blotch on her skirt with crumpled paper towels. The scent of cheap soap and lavender hung in the air.
Craig leaned casually against the counter beside her, arms crossed. Silent.
She felt his gaze before she looked up. And when she did—when their eyes t in the mirror, it was like everything else fell away.
The mont stretched. Thick. Charged. Unavoidable.
Her voice ca quiet, but sharp as glass. "Are you always this manipulative?"
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