Page 71 of Knot Their Starlet

“You two looked awful close tonight.”

“Andi and I?” I ask, blinking at him. His question grates against my nerves. “Eli, I don’t have time for this. I just want to get into the booth.”

Eli purses his lips, his jaw working.

“Sorry, I’m not—this is coming out wrong. It seems like she had a difficult night.”

“Yeah, she was freaked out by the lights, I think. They probably reminded her of⁠—”

“Of that night,” Eli says, interrupting me.

“Yeah.”

“Was she... okay?”

I don’t understand where Eli is going with this. I can’t help but feel like all these questions are just dancing around what he really wants to know.

My hesitation seems to be some sort of answer to his unspoken question, regardless of my intention.

“Yeah, she was,” I say finally. “She calmed down when we had a bit of privacy.”

“Because of you?”

I definitely don’t answer this loaded question fast enough. He drops my hand like he regrets ever touching me.

“Right,” he mutters. “Of course she did.”

The emotional whiplash leaves me spinning. I don’t really know what to label this thing between Eli and I, but despite only existing in the privacy of our home and down alleyways and dark hallways, it’s the realest thing I’ve had with someone.

But the last way I’d ever describe it is calm.

We’re all unspoken words, meaningful glances, and passion away from the prying eyes of anyone who could report to the media.

You know who is calm?

Andi.

Effortlessly so.

But by the very nature of the contracts our teams signed, whatever thing I feel is blossoming between us is being built upon the foundation of a fake relationship.

It’s moments like these that I hate my designation. I feel eternally needy. I need Eli and his help through my heats that the OCN still hasn’t found proper medication formulas to keep at bay. I’m starting to feel like I need Andi to need me.

I’m always the one in the position needing the help of people around me.

But Andi has no one.

Which means I get to swoop in and rescue her, and man, is that feeling intoxicating.

“Why are you doing this to me?” My voice is strained as I squeeze the question out. “You know—you know how—how overwhelming my designation is. I know I⁠—”

My throat closes as I close my eyes, my chin dropping to my chest. I can’t look at him right now, probably in the same way he couldn’t touch me anymore.

“I know I’m a burden. I know how much you’ve had to sacrifice and give up to help keep me sane and functioning and alive, and I know it’s only because of my designation.”

“That’s not—Fuck, Beck⁠—”

“But I can’t handle this,” I say, interrupting him, finally building up the courage to look up at him. “I can’t, Eli.”