Page 63 of Gap Control

"I didn't lean in, either."

"Yeah, but you didn't stop him."

"I didn't know I was supposed to."

I stared at the floor, then back at him. "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?"

"When people flirt with you."

Mason. "Why?"

"Because…" My throat tightened. "Because you're mine."

The words were out there. No take-backs. No rewind.

"I am?"

I nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Not officially. Not out loud in public, but yeah."

Something in him softened. Or maybe it was me, cracking down the middle.

"I didn't think it would hit me like that," I said. "Seeing someone else look at you like they wanted a shot."

He stepped forward. "And what would you have done if I'd flirted back?"

"Left early and broken a chair. Set fire to the building. I don't know."

He exhaled slowly. "You could've just said you didn't want to share."

I looked up. "I don't want to share. You, this… whatever we are—I want it to be mine."

Mason stepped forward again until we were almost chest to chest. Well, height difference, so chest to abs. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"Then stop pretending it's fake."

I froze.

The soda machine buzzed. I heard the laughter and clinking glasses in the distance, but none of that mattered.

Not when Mason looked at me like that and stood so close.

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

We suspended ourselves in the gap between pretending and whatever came next. I wanted to be done pretending.

I stepped into his space. Mason didn't move or blink. He stood there like he was bracing for impact, hoping I wouldn't pull back.

I didn't.

"Say it's not just me who wants to stop pretending."

"It's not just you."

I kissed him.

There was no build-up, lead-in banter, or music swelling in the background. Only his breath against mine and his jacket lapel clenched in my right fist as I pulled him closer.

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