Axton

The bar wasn’t loud enough to drown out my thoughts, which meant it had already failed me.

I sat on the booth’s edge, one hand around my drink, half-listening as Eric droned on about something Amelia had said the night before.

“…and then she tells me it’s not about the playlist, it’s about the vibe,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever that means. Apparently, I’m ‘chaotically masculine’ now.”

Blain snorted. “You are. And she’s right.”

Eric pointed a finger at him. “I don’t even know what that means.”

Blain shrugged. “It means your energy is like a frat boy with emotional damage. But make it aesthetic.”

Eric groaned. “God, I hate that you made sense.”

I didn’t bother laughing. I didn’t bother responding because all I could think about was how many times I’d passed Nora in the hallway today and how I’d felt her eyes on me, just barely. Like she was trying not to look. Like I was trying not to notice.

I took another drink.

Blain slid into the booth beside me, grinning like he knew something. “You good?”

I gave him a look. “Fine.”

“That sounded convincing.”

Eric leaned over the table. “You’ve been weird lately. You know that, right?”

I didn’t answer because I had been weird. Not outwardly. Not in a way anyone else could see. But in my head, every thought lately had a name.

And it was hers.

Blain tapped his glass against mine. “This weekend’s party’s gonna be wild. You need it. I need it. We all need it. Eric’s pretending he’s not bringing Amelia, but he’ll fold.”

“I’m not bringing her,” Eric said. “She’s got a thing with some of her girlfriends. Something lowkey.”

“Figures,” Blain said. “Probably something with matcha lattes and incense.”

Eric laughed. “That’s basically her entire personality.”

I stayed quiet, letting the conversation move past me. Whatever Amelia was doing, it had nothing to do with me.

Blain snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Dude. Earth to Axton. You seriously need to drink more.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I need different friends.”

“Please,” Eric said. “We’re the only ones who tolerate you.”

“Barely,” Blain added with a grin. “But you’re like a stray dog with nice hair. Hard to get rid of.”

“Speak for yourself,” I muttered, but I let the smallest smile pull at my mouth.

Blain nudged me. “There it is. The tiniest flicker of joy.”

It felt good to not think, just for a moment. To let the sarcasm fill the space where confusion usually sat.

But it didn’t last.

Blain raised a brow. “You’re thinking again. Don’t do that. You’ll ruin your whole aesthetic.”

I almost laughed. Almost.

He narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. It’s the girl, isn’t it?”

I didn’t answer.

Eric looked between us. “What girl?”

Blain just grinned and leaned back. “The one Axton’s not talking about.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, finishing my drink.

But Blain kept smiling because he could see it. Because they both could.

And no matter how much I tried to lie to myself, I knew I was in trouble.