Outside, I study her face—the fear in her eyes cuts deeper than any knife.

"Who was that?"

The question comes out harder than I mean it to, but seeing her like this, shaken and pale, makes something dark curl in my chest. She wraps her arms around herself, a defensive gesture that makes my jaw clench.

"No one."

"Didn't look like no one." I step closer, keeping my voice low. "How do you kn⁠⁠—"

"Drop it. Please?"

Everything about this makes me feel uneasy, but I don't push her to talk.

"Fine, let's go." We head towards the carpark in silence until she breaks it.

"I thought you were going to hit him," she says and there's something in her tone I can't read.

I was.

The moms are too drunk to notice the tension in the car, but I see how Nora sits rigid beside me, staring out the window like she's trying to hold herself together. Her breathing comes in short bursts, and she won't look my way.

"You two are awfully quiet up there," Mom slurs.

"Long day," I shoot her a look in the rearview.

"Long day? It's not even 1 PM!"

Yeah. And look at the state you’re in.

I can't get home fast enough. Right now, all I can think about is figuring out who the fuck Evan is and what he did to put that look in Nora's eyes. I've felt rage before, but this is different—deeper, darker, threatening to pull me under.

The drive passes in tense silence, Nora staring out the window while our moms chat obliviously in the front seats, the wine from lunch making them loose and giggly. I keep glancing at her profile, trying to read what's going on behind those walls she's put up.

When we finally pull into the driveway, our moms stumble out first, arms linked as they make their way to the front door, still reminiscing about something from their college days. The sound of their laughter feels jarringly out of place against the heaviness hanging between Nora and me.

As they disappear inside, I reach for Nora's wrist without thinking. She flinches away like my touch burns.

The pieces click together—her reaction to Evan, her recent edge.

"Nora, did he..." My voice drops low. "Did he hurt you?"

"No."

Her response is too quick, too defensive.

"Then how do you know him?"

"He's just someone from school, Nate. That's it." Her voice strains against something bigger. "I-I don't know why he's here."

I step closer, she steps back. Like she's afraid of me. But when our eyes meet, her expression softens.

"I notice, you know."

"Notice what?" she asks.

"How you flinch when someone touches you. The other day, when you were crying—was it because of him? You saw him that day, didn't you?"

Anger flashes in her eyes. "Stop, Nate. Just drop it."

"Nora—"