Page 139 of Well That Happened

I glare at him—but it’s half-hearted, because my pulse is doing cartwheels and I’m not sure if I want to tell him to stop ormove higher.

Fletcher is still watching.

Caleb swoops in with perfect distraction timing. “See how she just orders fries without asking me? That’s couple synergy right there. Real relationships are built on shared carbs.”

Grayson, dry as ever, leans in. “You also said that about your last roommate.”

Caleb smirks. “Yeah, well. He wasn’t as cute.”

Grayson leans in, murmuring just for me, “You’re flushed.”

I turn to him, heart stammering. “Am I?”

“Only when you’re flustered.” His tone is mild, unreadable. But the corners of his mouth tug up like he knowsexactlywhat’s happening under the table.

Hunter’s thumb starts moving again.

My eyes widen.

Fletcher clears his throat loudly.

“Do you guys always sit this close?” he asks, flat and suspicious, eyes narrowing at Grayson, then Hunter, then Caleb, then me.

We all freeze like deer caught in high beams.

Caleb recovers first. “Yeah, we’re a tight-knit household. Emphasis on tight.” He reaches for a fry. “Lots of bonding. It’s all very wholesome.”

Grayson sips his drink, silent.

Hunter doesn’t move his hand. If anything, his grip tightens slightly.

And Fletcher?

Fletcher leans back. Crosses his arms.

And keepswatching.

We make it home with Fletcher still stiff in suspicion mode and me riding shotgun in a full-body daze.

Because what even was that?

Hunter’s hand on my knee. Grayson’s voice in my ear. Caleb winking like he’s the one actually winning. Fletcher sipping a water, watching everything like a hawk.

Back at home, I help Fletcher get settled on the pullout couch.

I toss him a pillow, then a folded blanket from the hall closet. “You good?”

He nods, fluffing the pillow a little too aggressively. “Yeah. This is great. Thanks, Ri.”

“Need anything else?”

“Nope. All good.” He stretches out with a content sigh, then pauses, eyes softening as he looks up at me. “Hey. I’m proud of you, you know?”

I freeze.

His voice is quiet now. Sincere.

“You’re working your ass off. Chasing something real. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders—even if your taste in men is questionable,” he adds with a smirk.

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