I don't dare look back as I stand in the sterilization queue. The soft hum of machinery fills the air, and the blue light above flickers as it scans each person before they're allowed entry. I can feel Zane's presence behind me, like a weight pressing on my back. His silence is louder than it should be, and it gnaws at the edges of my mind.
I've been a mess all day, a tangled knot of emotions I don't even know how to untangle. I can't explain why I called him. I don't even know if I know. But the thought of him spending time with her felt unbearable. It crawled under my skin and burned in my chest until I couldn't ignore it anymore.
The blue light passes over me, and I step forward into the resort. The sterile air quickly fades into the cool, slightly perfumed scent of the lobby. I don't dare glance back at Zane. I don't trust myself to. Instead, I quicken my pace, almost rushing as I make my way to my room. I need to get away from him.
I burst through the glass doors and throw myself onto the bed, burying my face in the nearest pillow. My heart is racing, my chest tight with a storm of feelings I can't name. I scream into the pillow, muffling the sound of my own frustration, but it doesn't make me feel any better. If anything, it just makes the tightness worse.
Why did I call him? Why did I put myself in this position? What did I even want from him?
I roll over onto my back, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the entire day in vivid detail. The way Zane had looked when he sat across from me at the dessert shop—so calm, so infuriatingly casual. The way he laughed, teased me about the cake, as if we were just two friends enjoying a quiet moment together. But it wasn't quiet for me. Inside, everything was a storm.
And then there was that girl.
That image of her, standing next to him outside the hotel, her hand resting on his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. It shouldn't have hurt me the way it did, but it did. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut, and I've been reeling from it ever since. I don't want to care. I shouldn't care. Zane is my friend. Just my friend.
But why does it feel like more? Why does the thought of him with someone else feel like I'm losing something I never even had to begin with?
I groan and bury my face back in the pillow, trying to smother the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. This isn't in the plan. Did I learn nothing from James?
I squeeze my eyes shut, my heart thudding heavily in my chest. What if Zane knows? What if he saw through me, saw the jealousy that I didn't even realize was there until it was too late? What if he thinks I'm ridiculous?
I sigh, my frustration slowly giving way to exhaustion. I don't have the answers to any of those questions. But right now, all I want is to close my eyes, bury myself in the softness of this bed, and forget the mess I've made of everything. At least for a little while.
*
I check the time. It's 3 AM. Great, I must've passed out without even realizing it. My body feels heavy, a mix of exhaustion and emotions still weighing on me from earlier. I push myself off the bed, the soft sheets tangling at my ankles as I stand. My mind is a haze, and I feel like I've been through a war with myself—emotionally drained, physically sluggish.
I need a shower. Maybe the hot water will wash away the lingering tension.
The bathroom is dark, and the dim glow of the vanity lights is the only source of illumination as I step inside. I strip off my clothes, the cool air hitting my skin as I turn the faucet and let the steam fill the room. The water cascades over me, a welcome relief as I lean against the tile wall, letting it pound against my back. It's soothing, but it doesn't do much to settle the restlessness swirling in my chest.
After what feels like an eternity, I step out, feeling slightly more human. Checking the time again, I sigh. It's too late to disturb the kitchen staff—no matter how badly I want something to eat. I glance over at the small, dusty stove in the corner of my room, one I haven't used in ages. That'll have to do.
I rummage through the freezer, my fingers brushing against cold packages of forgotten meals. My stomach growls, reminding me I need to make do with whatever I can find. I pull out some frozen meat, poking at it cautiously before deciding it's probably still edible, and crack a couple of eggs for scrambled eggs.
As the eggs sizzle in the pan, I find myself lost in thought again. My mind keeps circling back to Zane, like a song stuck on repeat. What is he doing right now? Is he asleep, or still awake, tangled up in whatever business he always seems to be handling?
I finish cooking, throwing the eggs and meat onto a plate and deciding to eat outside on the small balcony. The fresh air will do me some good.
Sliding open the glass doors, I step out into the quiet night. The light of the moons reflects on the pool, I walk along to opposite the massive pool curious about Zane and his lights are on.
What's he doing up so early?
Walking closer to Zane's room, there he is, Zane, seated at a small table, surrounded by a sea of holograms and data projections. His face is etched with concentration, his brow furrowed as his fingers move across the displays with ease. He's so absorbed in his work, he doesn't even notice me watching him.
I don't know why, but there's something about seeing him like this that has me frozen in place. The way he's so focused, his usual easy-going demeanor replaced by an intensity I rarely see. I've heard women talk about the appeal of a man being completely immersed in his work, and back then, I never understood it. But now, standing here, watching Zane, I get it.
There's something magnetic about the way he moves—how effortlessly he controls the holograms, sliding one aside with a flick of his wrist while zooming in on another. His hand runs through his hair, the movement drawing my eyes to his bicep as his t-shirt pulls tight around his arm. It's a simple, casual gesture, but it has my heart skipping a beat in a way I'm not sure I'm ready to acknowledge.
I bite my lip, feeling a strange warmth creeping up my neck. What am I doing? Standing here, practically spying on him, while he's just going about his business, completely unaware of the effect he's having on me.
Snap out of it, Leona.
But I can't tear my eyes away. It's like I'm seeing him in a new light, one that I hadn't allowed myself to fully acknowledge before. Maybe it's because I'm tired, maybe it's because I'm still trying to sort through my feelings after seeing him with the girl. Or maybe it's something else entirely—something I've been ignoring for far too long.
I watch him for a few more minutes, taking in the way he leans forward in his chair, his focus never wavering, even as the minutes tick by. And for just a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to sit across from him, to break that concentration, to have him look at me with that same intensity.
But then I shake my head, pulling myself back to reality. This is Zane. My friend. The man who probably doesn't even realize I'm standing out here like some lovesick fool.