Page 122 of The Risk Taker

His gaze slides to mine, his brows dipping as he waits for me to continue.

I grab my phone from the coffee table and scroll for a sec, flicking open my browser and turning the screen toward him.

“It’s this publishing competition thing,” I say, angling the phone so he can read it. “For new comic creators. You send in your stuff, and if they pick it, you get a publishing contract.”

Nathan takes the phone, squinting at it. His eyes move fast through the page and then he blinks, glancing back at me. “Why’d you look this up?”

I shrug. “I started looking at some comic stuff and this came up.”

Which is technically true. I just left out the part where I scrolled for way too long trying to find something that would be great for what Nathan is working on.

“I thought it looked cool,” I add with a shrug. “And I figured you might want to send something in. What’s the harm?”

He keeps staring at me. And for a second, I wonder if I went too far and then he huffs out a breath, glancing down at the phone again. “There’s like a zero in a million chance I’ll get picked.”

“You’re miles better than the usual shit that gets published,” I say, nudging him with my thigh. “You’re incredibly talented, Nathan.” His eyes meet mine, nerves swimming in them. “You should send it in.”

He exhales, handing my phone back with a small shake of his head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” I say, and before I can second-guess it, I reach over and take his hand. His fingers go still under mine for a second before they thread through mine. “Your comic is so fucking cool. You deserve to do something you enjoy.”

He doesn’t answer, but doesn’t pull away either. His shoulders drop a little, like whatever tension he was holding finally lets go and his eyes flicker down to my mouth.

But then he lifts his eyes to somewhere behind me, and suddenly he jerks back, his fingers slipping from mine.

By the time I blink, wondering what the fuck just happened, there’s a full foot of space between us on the couch.

My stomach drops, even before I turn to see why.

Austin appears at the bottom of the stairs and stops in his tracks when he sees me on the couch. “You’re not dressed.”

I lift my brows. “Excellent observation.”

He blinks. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

Ryan’s right behind him, one arm halfway into his jacket, and he also stops. “Wait. You’re not coming?”

I sigh and lean back on the couch. “Jesus. Can a guy not decide to stay home for one night without getting interrogated?”

Austin narrows his eyes. “You feeling okay?”

Why does everyone assume I must be sick if I don’t want to go out? “I’m fine,” I assure him.

He tilts his head, suspicious. “Did you lose a bet or something?”

I roll my eyes. “No. I just want to stay home tonight.”

Austin watches me for a while before a smirk tugs at his lips. “It’s because of Nathan, isn’t it?”

I freeze, my eyes widening slightly. What the fuck? How did he?—

Austin laughs, clapping Ryan on the shoulder before I can even process what he just said. “Told you he was rubbing off on him. This is exactly how it starts. First you skip a night out at the bar. Next thing you know, you’re meal prepping quinoa.”

I glance back at Nathan when the guys laugh, but he won’t even fucking look at me. Too scared they’ll see him spare me a glance and somehow put two and two together.

Something in me just… sinks.

He was touching me like he wanted me, looking at me like we were the only ones in the fuckingworld, and then the second someone else walked into the room?