Page 62 of Gap Control

He followed my line of sight. "Ah. Yeah, he's a bit much."

"He's flirting."

"He's breathing. Your boyfriend happens to be hot."

"He's not—" I cut myself off. "It's complicated."

Lambert grinned. "You're adorable when you're spiraling."

I forced a smile and turned back to my drink. "Remind me to leave early."

"You're not gonna leave. You're gonna get jealous, make a scene, and then end up making out in the coatroom."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you mind not narrating my entire emotional arc in real time?"

Lambert laughed and patted my shoulder.

Across the room, the guy leaned closer to Mason, clearly playing the charm card. Mason didn't step away.

That was fine. I was fine. Totally, sort of. Fine.

I swallowed the last of my drink and muttered to no one in particular, "I need some air."

I didn't barrel into the guy, exactly, but I may have timed my exit to coincide with his step away from the bar. It resulted in a low-impact shoulder brush and a muttered "Watch it" that I didn't apologize for.

Mason saw me before I reached him. His expression flickered—mild surprise. I stopped a foot away.

I tried to sound casual and failed. "Can I grab you for a second?" I practically dragged him away by the elbow.

His brow furrowed. "Now?"

"Yeah. It won't take long."

He glanced at the guy behind him, still watching us, and then back at me. "Okay."

We stepped into the hallway past the coat check. It was quieter there, except for the hum of the soda machine and the faint clinking of ice from the bar on the other side of the wall. No cameras. No fans. No crowd.

Mason leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. "What's up?"

I stood in the middle of the space, half-lit by fluorescent track lighting, and tried to find words that didn't sound like I was having a meltdown.

"You were talking to that guy."

Mason blinked. "Is this an observation or an accusation?"

"He touched your arm."

Mason tilted his head. "You touch my arm all the time."

"That's different."

"Why?"

"Because I—" I stopped. Swallowed. "Because I want to."

He didn't say anything. My palms started to sweat.

I pressed on. "Look, maybe I'm overreacting, but he was all over you. And you didn't exactly back away."

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