Page 102 of Next Level Up
She’s pacing now, muttering something about bracket reshuffling and latency checks, and I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers twitch, the way she’s halfway spiraling and the damn match hasn’t even started yet.
I watch her pace for another thirty seconds before deciding that’s enough. She’s not slowing down. If anything, she’s picking up speed, and that’s not how this works.
I push off the counter, and step directly into her path. She almost walks straight into me, stopping short with a startled look like she forgot I was even there.
“Eat,” I say, holding up a muffin and pressing it into her hand.
“I’m not hungry,” she shoots back immediately, trying to sidestep me.
I shift with her, blocking her again. “Not a request.” She can fight me on everything else, not this.
Her eyes narrow slightly, that familiar spark of resistance kicking in even now.
“I’ll eat later,” she says, quieter this time.
“No, you won’t,” I reply, just as steady. “You’ll forget, you’ll crash halfway through, and then you’ll get pissed at yourself for it.”
She opens her mouth to argue.
Carter glances up from the floor, watching the exchange, but he doesn’t interrupt. He knows better.
I hold her gaze, just waiting her out.
After a second, she exhales, her shoulders dropping a fraction as she peels the wrapper back. “You’re annoying.”
“Eat pretty girl,” I repeat.
She takes a bite.
I step out of her way, grabbing another one for myself even though I don’t want it, leaning back against the counter while I watch her chew like I didn’t just force that to happen.
Control isn’t always about taking over.
Sometimes it’s just making sure she doesn’t fall apart before she even gets the chance to fight.
Carter steps up beside me then, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, water bottle in the other. He looks at Haven, then at me, and for a second—just one—our eyes lock.
And we both nod. It’s not the kind of moment we’d ever talk about out loud.
We don’t do that, but it’s there anyway, sitting in the space between us like something solid. He handles her one way. I handle her another. Neither of us gets in the other’s way unless we have to.
And right now, we don’t.
I don’t need him to step back and he doesn’t need me to soften.
It works because we don’t question it. She’s got this, and we’ve got her.
The knock on the door is more of a *bang-bang-*pause-bang, and it’s followed immediately by Cassie’s voice shouting through the door, “OPEN UP, IT’S THE SUPPORTIVE HOT PEOPLE BRIGADE!”
I barely manage to smother an almost laugh before Haven sprints past me, practically ripping the door open.
Cassie bursts in wearing a cropped hoodie that saysEat. Sleep. Game. Repeat.and carrying two obnoxiously large iced coffees. James trails behind her with that easygoing grin and a box of what I can only assume is more caffeine or emotional support carbs as Haven calls them.
“Finals day baby girl!” Cassie shouts, holding out the coffee. “And your ass is about to be famous.”
Haven blushes immediately, laughing as Cassie thrusts the drink into her hands. Carter emerges from the hallway just in time to catch a bagel to the chest, courtesy of James.
“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” Haven says, eyes wide, holding the muffin, a coffee, and a hug from Cassie all at once.
