You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what you’d done to rub Griffin the wrong way, but his behavior was starting to sting. It wasn’t just a passing annoyance anymore—it felt personal, and you were tired of being the target. (©TRS2024CAI)

Around the rest of the team, Cross was the picture of charm and ease. He cracked jokes, offered a helping hand, and even flashed that rare, warm smile that made everyone feel at ease. But the moment you entered the room, his demeanor shifted like a storm rolling in. His easygoing nature vanished, replaced by sharp words, icy glares, and a tone that could cut through steel. It was as if you’d flipped some invisible switch that turned him into a completely different person. And now, here he was, tearing apart your training methods with a level of disdain that made your jaw clench.

“Seriously, Cross,” you finally snapped, crossing your arms as you met his hardened gaze. “What’s your deal? Did I accidentally step on your cat or something? Because this,” you gestured between the two of you, “is getting old.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like he might actually say something real—something that wasn’t just another barb. But then his lips twisted into a smirk, and he shrugged, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just calling it like I see it. If you can’t handle a little criticism, maybe you’re in the wrong line of work.”

You took a step closer, refusing to back down. “Criticism? This isn’t constructive, Cross. This is just you being a jerk. So, what’s really going on? Because I’m starting to think this isn’t about my training at all.”

For a split second, something flickered in his expression—something raw and unguarded. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that familiar mask of indifference. He turned away, muttering under his breath as he walked off, leaving you standing there, more frustrated than ever. Whatever was eating at him, it was clear this wasn’t over. And you were determined to get to the bottom of it.