He catches you watching him — again.

You’re with your friends. Clean nails, polished shoes, laughter that doesn’t touch your eyes.

He’s across the lot, loading crates, sweat on his brow, jaw tight. But when your eyes meet, the whole world disappears.

Later, he corners you behind the red tent.

“Is it real?” he asks. “Any of it?”

You freeze. “Jacob, I can’t—”

“If you say it’s nothing, I’ll believe you,” he says. “I’ll walk away right now.”

You hesitate. One second too long.

He nods. “Got it.”

Then he’s gone.

And you can’t breathe.