Not because she didn't have something to say—
but because whatever answer he was waiting for… didn't exist in a clean, simple way.
How far would you go before you walked away?
The question stayed there, hanging in the air like it had weight. Like it had already decided something about her, whether she liked it or not.
And the worst part?
She didn't know the answer.
That irritated her more than him standing in her space… more than the fact that he had gone through her things without permission..… more than the way he kept looking at her like he already understood something she hadn't figured out yet.
It made her feel—off. It made her feel like she had no privacy.
It made her feel exposed, in a way she couldn't explain.
Ava let out a slow breath, her fingers curling slightly against her palm just to ground herself.
"You're playing some kind of game," she said.
It came out steadier than she felt l. Not a question, a statement.
He didn't move.
Didn't even blink.
"No," he said. "I'm not."
That calm tone again.
Like nothing about this situation was strange to him.
Like this, this, was normal.
Ava let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff, shaking her head as she stepped past him, needing space… even if it was just a few steps.
"That's funny," she muttered. "Because it really feels like you are."
Still—
she didn't leave.
Didn't walk out.
Didn't even try.
And she knew he noticed.
Of course he did.
"You're still here," he said behind her.
Not accusing.
Not mocking.
Just… stating it.
And for some reason, that got under her skin more than anything else.
Ava stopped near the window, folding her arms tightly like that could somehow hold everything in place.
"I'm in my room," she said. "Where else am I supposed to be?"
There was a pause.
A quiet one.
The kind that made you aware of every small sound—the shift of fabric, the faint hum outside, your own breathing.
"Somewhere else," he replied.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
That wasn't an answer.
Or maybe it was—and she just didn't like it.
Ava turned back to face him, slower this time, studying him like she was trying to catch something slip.
"You went into my room," she said.
Not emotional.
Not loud.
Just… clear.
He didn't deny it.
Didn't even hesitate.
"Yeah."
That simple.
That easy.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Ava blinked, caught off guard for half a second before irritation settled in properly.
"You don't think that's a problem?"
"I already told you it is."
"Then why are you acting like it's nothing?"
"I'm not," he said. "You just expected something else."
She frowned slightly.
"What was I supposed to expect?"
"A lie."
That—
That made her pause.
Because he wasn't wrong.
She had expected that.
A denial.
An excuse.
Something to twist the situation into something less… real.
But he hadn't done any of that.
And now she didn't know what to do with it.
Ava exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping for just a second before she looked back at him.
"You moved my stuff," she said, quieter now. "Why?"
He didn't answer immediately.
And that tiny delay?
It mattered.
Because up until now, everything he said had come too easily.
Too smoothly.
This didn't.
"To see if you'd notice."
Her stomach tightened.
There was something about the way he said it—like it wasn't even a strange thing to admit.
Like it made sense to him.
"And if I didn't?" she asked.
His eyes stayed on hers.
"Then I'd know something different."
That didn't help.
That didn't explain anything.
If anything, it made it worse.
Ava shook her head slightly, letting out a breath that felt heavier than it should've.
"That's not normal," she said.
"I didn't say it was."
"Then stop saying it like it is."
"I'm saying it like it happened."
God.
He was exhausting.
Not loud.
Not aggressive.
Just… impossible to push against.
Ava ran a hand through her hair, pacing a small step before stopping again.
"You don't test people like that," she said.
"I needed to."
"For what?"
This time—
He hesitated.
Actually hesitated.
It was small. Most people wouldn't notice.
But she did.
Always the small things.
His gaze shifted slightly, like he was deciding how much to say… or whether to say anything at all.
And that—
That told her this mattered.
"To understand you," he said finally.
Ava let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"You don't understand me because you moved a book on my table."
"No," he agreed. "But I understand how you react."
"That's not the same thing."
"It's a start."
She stared at him for a second, something unreadable flickering across her face.
"You act like I'm some kind of project."
"I don't."
"You literally just said you're trying to understand me."
"I am."
"That's not normal behavior."
"Neither is noticing a book is slightly out of place," he replied.
That—
That hit.
Not hard.
But deep.
Because he said it so simply, like it wasn't even an insult… just an observation.
And she couldn't even deny it.
Ava looked away, her arms tightening slightly across her chest.
"People notice things," she said.
"Not like that."
There it was again.
That feeling.
Like he was seeing too much.
Saying too little.
And somehow still landing exactly where it mattered.
"You don't know me," she said.
"I know enough."
"No, you don't."
"Then leave."
The words were quiet.
Almost gentle.
But they landed like a push.
Ava stilled.
Her heart did this small, annoying thing—like it skipped and then tried to catch up.
"What?"
"If you don't like it," he said, "leave."
No pressure.
No force.
Just an option.
And that's what made it feel like more than that.
Ava stared at him, searching his face for something—anything that made this easier to respond to.
She didn't find it.
Because he wasn't trying to convince her.
Wasn't trying to stop her.
He meant it.
And for some reason—
That made her chest feel tight.
"You think it's that easy?" she asked quietly.
"I think it's a choice."
Her lips pressed together.
Because she hated that.
Hated how simple he made it sound.
Like everything could be reduced to a decision.
Stay.
Or leave.
Like there wasn't anything in between.
Like confusion didn't exist.
Like curiosity didn't pull at you in ways you didn't understand.
"You don't get it," she said.
"Then explain it."
She opened her mouth—
And stopped.
Because she couldn't.
Not in a way that made sense.
Not without sounding… unsure. Hi
And she refused to give him that.
Ava shook her head slightly instead.
"You're not normal," she muttered.
There was the faintest shift in his expression.
Barely there.
"Neither are you."
Her eyes snapped back to his.
That shouldn't have affected her.
It shouldn't have landed at all.
But it did.
Because it didn't feel like an insult.
It felt like—
Recognition., the " I see you" type of recognition.
And that was worse.
"Don't do that," she said.
"Do what?"
"Act like you know me."
"I don't," he said. "I'm just paying attention."
Her fingers curled again.
That restless, uneasy feeling creeping back under her skin.
"You're crossing lines," she said.
"I know."
"And you keep doing it anyway."
A pause.
Then—
"I haven't crossed the one that matters."
Her brows pulled together slightly.
"What does that mean?"
His gaze held hers.
Steady.
Unmoving.
"If I did," he said quietly, "you wouldn't still be here." you would have left
And that—
That stayed with her.
Long after the words settled.
Because deep down—
As much as she didn't want to admit it…
He was right.
And she hated that she didn't know what that said about her.