Page 57 of Only ever you-Ana & Byron
"What was that about?" she panted like she had run a couple of miles uphill.
"Nowt," he muttered, straightening his shirt. But his eyes betrayed him with their extreme smugness.
Ana arched an eyebrow. "That was the most passive-aggressive dick measuring contest I've ever seen."
He smirked. "You liked it."
She did. Damn him.
Ana glanced at him sideways, lips twitching.
"Love the pink on you. Brings out the green in your eyes."
Byron looked down at himself like he hadn't noticed what he was wearing.
"This? Yeah, well... just gettin' in touch with me feminine side and shit."
She bit back a laugh.
"Right."
"I'm a metrosexual lad now," he added while examining his nails. "Big fan of exfoliatin' and manicures."
Ana shook her head, laughing as he crowded her against the lift wall.
"You're ridiculous."
"And you love it."
She did. Every maddening bit of him. And she was sinking deeper and deeper every day.
Then he leaned in and kissed her again like he hadn't seen her in weeks, when he had left her completely shattered after a couple of rounds that morning.
Chapter twenty-five
Chapter 24
One year later
It was the only time Byron looked uncomfortable.
His shoulders sat just a little too square, his spine too straight, like he was bracing for impact during a game. He kept his hands firmly on the table, not even brushing against hers, even when their elbows bumped. He laughed at the right moments, joined in with Gray's dry comments, and offered Cadi second helpings with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
But to Ana, who knew him better than anyone now, it was like watching a tiger wear a suit.
Cadi was warm, open and chatty as always. It was a rare night out while Tomos was with hisGrammy. If she noticed the extra inch of space between Ana and Byron, she didn't comment.
Gray, of course, noticed everything.
He gave Byron one of his long, unreadable looks over the rim of his pint. A raised eyebrow. A slight tilt of his head that said, What's your game here, mate?
Byron met his eyes and said nothing.
The food was good. The conversation was easy. The wine flowed. But beneath it all, tension buzzed like a frayed wire. Ana was hyper-aware of Byron's leg beside hers under the table, the way he shifted ever so slightly away whenever she reached for her glass or leaned in to say something.
He was holding back.
She'd expected it. This is what she wanted
