I ignore him and yank my shirt over my head, tossing it onto my bed. I grab a clean one, black, fitted, simple. Enough to look put together without looking like I’m trying too hard.

Tate watches from the doorway, slipping out another smartass comment as he follows me into the bathroom. “You’re flexing.”

I freeze mid-motion, glaring at him through the mirror. “What?”

“You’re checking yourself out. Flexing.”

“I am not.”

He smirks. “You totally are. A little desperate, don’t you think?”

I groan, dragging my hands down my face. “Why are you like this?”

Tate leans lazily against the doorframe, amused. “I just think it’s funny that you’re treating this like a first date.”

I don’t answer. This isn’t technically a date. Haven’s just hanging out with me, nothing official, nothing planned beyond seeing each other in person for the first time. But it feels like something more. And no matter how much I tell myself to chill, my pulse is still ticking faster than it should.

I exhale sharply, heading back into my room to grab my phone, and fire off a text before I talk myself out of it.

Me: On my way

I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. The room is quiet except for the sound of Tate’s coffee slurping echoing like judgment. I toss my phone onto my bed and take one last glance in the mirror. I look normal.

Tate snorts from the doorway. “You gonna finish fixing your hair, or are you going for the I-just-woke-up-like-this look?”

I shove past him. “You’re lucky I don’t have time to fight your dumbass.”

I grab my keys, shake off the nerves, and head for the door. Deep breath. I got this. But the second I step outside, I catch movement from the corner of my eye.

Tate. Also leaving. I pause mid-step, watching as he casually unlocks his car, moving with the kind of indifference that immediately puts me on edge.

My stomach tightens. “What are you doing?”

Tate doesn’t even glance up. “Leaving.”

I narrow my eyes. “Leaving where?”

He shrugs, pulling open his door. “Didn’t realize I had to check in with you before leaving the house baby brother.”

Bullshit, again. Tate doesn’t just go places, he’s a damn homebody. Which means there’s only one reason he’d be heading out at the exact same time as me.

I grip my keys a little tighter. “You better not be trying to fuck with this.”

Tate leans against the open door of his car, finally looking at me. “Relax.”