Sebastian's POV
She sat beside me, stiff as a statue, hugging her bag like it held the secrets to the universe.
Thirty seconds of silence. Thirty long seconds of her trying not to look at me.
And then it started.
"So… that whole thing back there?"
Her voice was high. Shaky. Nervous. I didn't answer right away. I wanted to hear her squirm.
"I don't like being ignored," I said finally, eyes on her. "Especially by what's mine."
That word. Mine.
I didn't mean to say it like that.
But I didn't regret it either.
She blinked like she'd been shot. Then—God help me—she laughed. A broken, breathless thing that sounded more like panic than amusement.
"Right. Sure. Super casual. Just… casually throwing around possessive declarations in public cafés. That's… normal. Totally normal. Do you do that with all your—your people?"
I turned my head slightly. Watched the pink stain crawling up her neck. She was unraveling in front of me, and she didn't even realize it.
"There are no others," I said.
That shut her up.
She turned away, practically melting into the door, voice a whisper. "Well, that's… good to know. Because—um—for the record, I'm not blushing. That's just the lighting. Bad car lighting."
Liar.
I watched the back of her neck, the trembling of her fingers, the little inhale she took when I didn't reply.
She was blushing like the sun had kissed her.
I leaned back, smirking to myself. Let her hide behind her sarcasm and oversized tote bag. Let her think I didn't see it all.
Because I did.
Every twitch. Every flustered breath.
I saw her.
And I wasn't looking away.