He didn't sleep.
Of course he didn't.
He tried; lay in bed, stared at the ceiling, counted reasons why she didn't mean it.
Didn't mean the kiss.
Didn't mean the way she gripped his shirt.
Didn't mean the way she walked out like he was just a warm-up act and she had better things to do.
"She's bluffing," he told himself.
"She wants me to chase her."
But why did it feel like she didn't care if he did or not?
At 2:14 AM, he finally sat up, grabbed his car keys, and left the building.
He didn't know where he was going.
He just knew he was tired of losing sleep over a girl who used to flinch when he walked into a room…
Now she was flinching when he left.
Meanwhile…
Mara was at her friend's apartment, curled up in an oversized hoodie, eating cereal with absolutely zero remorse.
"You kissed him??" her friend shrieked.
"Technically, he kissed me back," Mara muttered, eyes on the TV.
"And then you left?!"
"It's called strategy."
She shrugged, popping another spoonful into her mouth.
But her fingers tightened slightly around the bowl.
Her chest felt heavier than she'd admit.
And her mind kept replaying the way he looked at her; like he was about to break.
And she let him.
"This is why I don't do feelings," she whispered.
7:52 AM.
He walked into the office; sharp suit, sharp glare, zero patience.
"Where's Mara?" he snapped.
"She called in sick, sir."
Sick.
Right.
Of him? Probably.
He sat at his desk. Opened his laptop. Tried to type.
"Good morning..."
Nope.
Too fake.
"Regarding the Bennett proposal..."
He slammed the laptop shut.
She was doing it again.
Getting under his skin.
And this time… she wasn't even in the building.