𝐑 𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄?¹ - juan soto

8.

the hum of the hotel lobby felt far too loud. conversations buzzed, heels clicked against polished floors, and a soft beat of seattle rain tapped against the tall windows. lyra stood off to the side, arms crossed over her chest, her body curled protectively inward.

the brown leather jacket—his jacket—was warm against her shoulders, but that wasn't the problem. the problem was that it felt too much like him. It smelled faintly of that mix of spice and cedar he wore, the one that clung to him no matter how sweaty a game had left him. the sleeves were so big they slipped past her wrists, practically swallowing her hands, and it didn't matter how many times she'd told herself she didn't care. she shouldn't be wearing it.

she'd convinced herself he wouldn't notice. but of course, he did.

"is that my jacket?"

the voice came from behind her, low and unmistakable, like a flicker of heat tracing the base of her neck. lyra stiffened, her pulse tripping over itself. she turned too quickly, and there he was—juan soto, leaning against the corner of a column like he owned the whole damn lobby.

his duffel bag was slung casually over one shoulder. but what caught her attention—what always caught her attention—was his eyes. dark and intent, they swept over her, lingering far too long on where his jacket draped over her frame.

lyra straightened and lifted her chin, all sharp edges despite the blood roaring in her ears. "i didn't have anything else," she said, quick and defensive. "i was cold. don't get all territorial."

juan's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. "territorial?" he repeated softly, his voice full of something that made her skin prickle. he pushed off the column, closing the distance between them in a few easy steps. his eyes hadn't left her, and the closer he got, the heavier that gaze felt—like he was seeing through her, past the bravado and directly to the uncomfortable, fluttering feeling sitting in her chest.

"it's a jacket," she muttered, fidgeting with the hem as though she could somehow shrink herself out of it.

"my jacket." juan stopped just in front of her, his head tilting as he looked her over again. his gaze traced her slowly, inch by inch, and then settled on her face.

lyra swallowed hard. "you can have it back. here." she made a move to shrug it off, her fingers digging under the collar.

"don't," juan said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a warning.

lyra froze, staring up at him. "what?"

his gaze was locked on her now, no trace of his usual teasing or smug grin. his voice was quieter when he spoke again, but the rough edge to it made her breath hitch. "i said don't. leave it on."

she didn't know why, but she obeyed. the jacket felt impossibly heavy now, like a weight pressing into her skin. "why?"

juan's smirk returned, but it wasn't playful—it was something darker, something possessive. he shrugged, casual on the surface, but the tension radiating off him told a different story. "it looks good on you." he paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he added, "better than it ever did on me."

lyra's stomach flipped, and she hated how hot her face felt. she rolled her eyes, desperate to break the moment, to escape the way he looked at her. "don't be ridiculous. you don't care about this jacket."

"maybe i do now."

his words were soft, but they landed like a strike, hitting her square in the chest. they stood too close, the lobby noise fading around them as though it had been sucked into a vacuum.