The car ride home was dead quiet.
Aria sat in the back seat like a queen dethroned but still dangerous. Xander sat beside her, stiff, his eyes glued to the darkened window like it might offer him an escape.
Neither of them spoke.
Too much had been said in that ballroom—and even more had gone unsaid.
She could still feel Lena's perfume clinging to her skin like bad memories. Her champagne headache throbbed in time with her pulse.
Finally, Xander broke the silence.
"You didn't have to humiliate her."
Aria turned her head slowly.
"I didn't do it for you," she said. "I did it for me."
He exhaled. "She doesn't matter."
"Then why did you look like she'd carved your heart out in public?"
He didn't answer.
Good. She didn't need his words tonight. She didn't even want them.
But the silence between them? It wasn't hollow anymore. It was thick. Charged.
Like something was coming.
And neither of them were ready.