Untouchable

0.15

Ivy’s POV

I should have gone with them.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself as I curled up on the couch, feeling like absolute garbage. The others had been excited about their last night out before we left, and I didn’t want to ruin it by tagging along just to sit in a corner, miserable.

What I hadn’t expected was for Adrian to stay behind too.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I muttered, adjusting the blanket around me.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t in the mood,” he said flatly, leaning back against the couch like he owned the place.

I turned my head toward him. “So you’d rather sit here and babysit me?”

He scoffed. “I’m not babysitting you. You’re just too pathetic to leave alone.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wow. So thoughtful.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed the remote and flipped the TV on, the blue light flickering across the dimly lit room. He scrolled through channels, unimpressed with everything, until finally settling on some old thriller movie.

The silence between us stretched, the tension thick enough to suffocate me. I tried to focus on the movie, but I could feel his presence beside me, rigid, unreadable, and—most of all—irritated.

I exhaled sharply. “If you’re mad at me, just say it.”

Adrian didn’t move, eyes fixed on the screen. “I’m not mad.”

I scoffed. “Right. Because sitting there brooding and ignoring me totally screams ‘not mad.’”

His jaw clenched. “I’m not ignoring you. I just don’t feel like talking.”

I turned to fully face him. “So you’re mad.”

He finally looked at me, eyes dark. “Why would I be mad, Ivy?”

I blinked at the sharpness in his voice. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

His expression hardened. “Maybe because I had to watch you kiss my best friend in front of everyone.”

Oh.

My breath hitched, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “It was just a game.”

He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Right. Just a game.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket. “It was. It wasn’t that serious.”

Adrian turned his body toward me, his voice lower now, but more intense. “Then why do you look so guilty?”

I stiffened. “I don’t.”

“You do.” His eyes scanned mine, searching for something—an answer I didn’t even know how to give.

A beat passed.

Then, without warning, he shook his head and stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “You know what? Forget it.”

“No.” I threw the blanket off me and sat up, ignoring the slight dizziness that followed. “You can’t just start this conversation and then decide we’re done.”

His gaze snapped back to mine, sharp. “I just don’t get why you did it.”

I frowned. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you’re with Alistair.”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “You really care about that now?”