CASSIAN
By the end of the week, the car ride to the XUM headquarters felt small, the air thick and stifling between us.
Noah was sitting in the passenger seat, his laptop balanced on his knees, his eyes fixed on a spreadsheet as the city blurred past the windows. His focus was total.
It was too total.
I leaned against the door, watching the side of his face for a long, heavy moment. His skin looked clear, his profile sharp against the grey light outside, but there was an stillness to his shoulders that hadn't been there a week ago.
Noah didn't look up from his screen, but I saw his jaw tighten slightly. "What."
"Nothing," I said.
"You're staring." His tone was perfectly flat, completely professional.
"I'm thinking."
"You should probably think about the project," Noah said, his finger tapping the trackpad to scroll down another page.
"We're ten minutes away from the building."
He closed the door again. Just like that.
