Jessica wheeled Davis back to the dining hall, her heart thudding in her chest. The moment they stepped through the doorway, every pair of eyes at the table turned toward them.
It felt as if the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold. They weren't just looking at Davis, though. They were looking at her.
Her cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment as she felt the weight of their gaze. It was as though their eyes were peeling her open, searching for every little detail about what had kept them so long in the kitchen. What had happened between them?
Jessica tried to ignore the heavy silence that followed them. She didn't expect Davis to be so unfazed, but there he was—his expression a perfect mask of stoicism. He didn't seem to care that everyone was staring, or if they were reading into their delay.
If anything, he seemed to enjoy the discomfort, though he kept it hidden behind his composed exterior.
