"You've been doing that for the past ten minutes," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "It's annoying."
Gloria stilled immediately, pressing her hands into her lap, willing them to stay put.
Don't react. Don't give him the satisfaction.
The silence that followed was thick, stretching out between them like a taut wire, humming with something unspoken, something heavy.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
She refused to look at him. And yet, she could feel his gaze lingering.
Christon tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he mused, "You look miserable."
Gloria scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. "I feel miserable."
His smirk was slow, deliberate—infuriating. "Because you had to leave Anathema?" he drawled, stretching out his legs with lazy ease. "Or is it because you'll no longer get to see me? No more excuses to live in the same space as I am?"
Gloria looked at him as if he had gone nuts. Refused to acknowledge the sharp pull of irritation clawing at her chest.
