Haven stays quiet for a second, rolling the thought around in her head, weighing it, like she’s trying to decide if dragging this out a little longer is a mistake. I don’t like the uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation, the way she’s still caught between whatever the hell last night was and the reality waiting for her back home.

She nods. “Okay,” she says, voice softer than before. “Lunch. And then… PC stuff.”

It’s not much. But it’s enough. I exhale, the tension in my chest easing just enough for me to relax back against the counter, nodding like this is normal, like this is just another day. Like my entire fucking world isn’t shifting around this girl.

Tate just snorts, shaking his head as he leans back in his chair. “Fucking nerds.”

I shoot him a glare, but Haven just laughs, rolling her eyes as she lifts her coffee to her lips. She doesn’t miss a beat, she tilts her head, eyes narrowing slightly as she fixes Tate with a knowing look, fingers tapping against her coffee cup like she’s just waiting for the right moment to strike. “You’re just as much a nerd,” she fires back, her voice laced with challenge, her lips curling like she already knows she’s won. “A nerd who’s a bully online.”

I grin, because fuck yes, I love watching her snap back at him. Tate doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t even pretend to be offended. Instead, he leans back, spreading his legs slightly, and does the most fucking Tate thing imaginable.

A slow, lazy hip roll in the chair. Followed by a smirk. Like that’s his response. Like that’s his fucking argument.

Haven’s lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting that, like she’s trying not to react. I groan, running a hand down my face. “Fucking Christ, Tate.”

He just chuckles, picking up his coffee again like this entire conversation was for his own personal entertainment.

We end up on the couch, sprawled out like last night didn’t happen, like nothing’s changed, like I didn’t just share this girl with my brother in the filthiest fucking way possible. Like I don’t want to do it again.

Haven leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over my stomach through my hoodie. It’s innocent. Soft. Normal.

And I’m fucking dying. Because I don’t know what this is supposed to be now.

If I’m allowed to hold her like this. If I’m allowed to want her like I do. If I’m allowed to fucking keep her.