Ginny didn't know what compelled her to move, but by the time she realized it, she was already standing.
The clatter of her chair against the floor drew Ollie's attention, his gaze flickering up in mild confusion as she grabbed her phone from the table. She didn't bother with an explanation, just a vague murmur of some half-formed excuse as she stepped away. Her movements were deliberate, slow enough not to draw more attention than necessary, but her heart raced all the same.
Her focus stayed locked on the man in the white clothes.
His gait was unhurried, his shoulders relaxed as he navigated the room. She barely noticed the details of him at first—just the stark white of his shirt, crisp and pristine, and the dark ink of the octopus tattoo that crept across his hand like it had been etched there for her to see.
It was insane that she'd even noticed him in the first place, let alone decided to follow.
