Elias felt it like a bruise blooming under skin.
The moment Cassian's mouth touched Lisa's, something in Elias's chest gave a sharp and ugly twist. Air moved in and out of his lungs because it had to.
Someone was saying something beside him, complaining about the milk frother again, probably but Elias didn't hear a word. His focus tunneled. Cassian's hand was cradling Lisa's jaw, thumb brushing her cheek like it belonged there. Like it had done that a hundred times before. Like Elias hadn't had those same fingers on his own skin.
Don't stare, he told himself.
He looked away first.
His hands curled around the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening. The café felt suddenly too small, the walls pressing in, the hum of conversation too loud. He could feel his scent threatening to spike, and forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose, grounding the way the pills were supposed to help him do.
