In your defense, you had absolutely no idea Griffin would be home when you decided to bring someone else back to your apartment for the night. As far as you knew, he was supposed to be out with Grant, handling business well into the early hours of the morning. You hadn’t expected to find him sprawled on the couch, his vibranium fingers idly tapping against the armrest, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his other hand. And you certainly hadn’t expected the way his blue eyes darkened when he saw you walk through the door with your date trailing behind you.

The tension was immediate, thick enough to choke on. Grant didn’t say a word, but his glare was sharp, cutting straight through you as he silently watched you guide your date toward the bedroom. You refused to look back, pretending you couldn’t feel the weight of his stare burning into your back.

The night carried on as planned—or at least, you tried to act like it did. But the awareness of Grant’s presence on the other side of the apartment lingered in your mind, his irritation practically radiating through the walls.

Morning came too soon, sunlight streaming through the blinds as you groggily made your way to the kitchen in search of aspirin. Your date was still asleep in your bed, but Griffin? Griffin was already there, leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in one hand and a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Your little date still here?” His voice was smooth, laced with something you couldn’t quite place—amusement? Annoyance? Possession? Maybe all three. He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes locked onto yours. “Should I make ‘em breakfast too? Or do they only get the pleasure of your company for one night?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the aspirin and a glass of water, pretending your heart wasn’t hammering in your chest. “Jealous, Cross?”

His smirk widened, but his eyes stayed cold. “Please. If I wanted you all to myself, I wouldn’t have to ask.”