Page 30 of You Owe Me

“Right, right. Ainsley. She’s in my environmental science class. Always raising her hand, talking about ocean stuff. Sea lions and plastics and whatever. Passionate chick. Real smart. Real hot, too.”

The silence at the table isn’t awkward.

It’s surgical.

Rowan scratches his neck like he suddenly wants to disappear. Sebastian’s tapping stops completely.

And me?

I stare at the cards in my hand like they matter. Like I’m not calculating how long it would take me to pick this kid up by his shirt and put him through my window.

We’re on the fourth floor. He might survive.

But it would be close.

My watch buzzes again. 114 BPM. Still manageable. Barely.

I don’t say anything. Don’t trust myself to.

Not because I think Ainsley would ever look twice at this walking stereotype. But because he said her name. In this room. With that tone.

And I don’t like it when people talk about what’s mine.

Tweener doesn’t notice the silence.

Or maybe he does and just mistakes it for everyone being really impressed by his dumb-ass commentary. Either way, he keeps talking.

“I mean, not gonna lie, I thought she was single at first.” He tosses a handful of chips into the pot. “She gives off that don’t-need-a-man energy, you know? That confident, smart-girl vibe. Super hot.”

Sebastian shifts like his chair has just become uncomfortable. Rowan sips his beer without blinking. Neither of them looks at me.

Because they don’t have to.

They can feel it.

The air’s gone thin. Tighter. Like a room just before a storm. Static in the walls, pressure behind your eyes. And all I’m doing is sitting here completely still, hands folded around my cards, pulse steadily rising.

But that’s the thing.

I don’t lash out.

I wait.

I sit in it.

Let it burn.

Because silence, when it’s deliberate and loaded, makes people squirm harder than shouting ever could.

“You know who else thinks she’s hot?” Tweener continues. “Carter Mills. I heard he’s been sniffing around lately. Said he was gonna shoot his shot.”

He grins like he just told a good joke.

I set my cards down, face down, with no reaction. No outward one, anyway.

Internally?

I’m sharpening knives.

---