Sitting in Zaya's car, the tension was thick enough to choke on. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, casting glances at her every now and then, hoping the silence would break on its own.
But she kept her gaze forward, jaw tight, knuckles white on the steering wheel. I bit my lip to stifle the amused smile threatening to creep onto my face.
Why was she so angry? She hadn't even looked at me since we'd left the studio, and there was something undeniably entertaining about watching Zaya, usually cool and unbothered, struggling with her emotions like this.
Part of me wondered if she was… jealous. The idea planted itself in my mind, and I couldn't help but smirk, enjoying the thought. A jealous Zaya that could be new.
I finally decided to test the waters, crossing my arms as I leaned back, putting on a casual tone. "Zaya… are you jealous?"
