Clean air smelled like antiseptic and coffee gone old.
Arin waited on the last chair by the clinic wall, one foot tapping. He could feel Nova moving somewhere behind the frosted glass—little spikes of warmth in his chest when she laughed, a steady glow when she focused. The hum of her tugged at him like a wire.
The lobby door hissed. Mason walked in.
Varsity jacket. Jaw set. Too much cologne, again. His eyes skimmed the room and stuck to Arin like a tack.
"You," Mason said, voice flat.
Arin didn't stand. "Me."
Mason's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Waiting for someone who actually works here?"
"Yeah."
"Busy day," Mason said. He looked over his shoulder toward the desk window, then back. "Don't make it busier."
Clean. Cold. A line in the floor.
Nova pushed the window open. "Mason, you're early. Your mom's vitals aren't in yet."
Mason leaned on the counter like it belonged to him. "Came to help."
His gaze slid to Arin, then to Nova again—taking a measure, drawing lines.
Nova caught it and cut it off. "He's a friend."
"New friend," Mason said.
Nova held his stare. Calm, clinical. "He's allowed."
Arin felt the hum shift when she looked at him. Warmer. Closer. He stood, slow, to bleed the heat from his legs. "I'll grab water," he said.
He stepped past the counter; their hands brushed when she passed him a paper cup.
Messy now. Her breath hitched. A blush climbed her neck like it had a ladder. She tried to hide it with a throat clear and failed.
Mason watched everything.
"Nova," he said, casual and cutting, "you look flushed."
"I'm fine," she said too quickly.
Arin took a drink he didn't need. The water tasted like nothing and made him thirstier.
Mason shifted closer, crowding the small room with big energy. "We should talk."
"Later," Nova said.
"Now," Mason said, and nodded at Arin without looking at him. "Outside."
Arin didn't move. "We can talk here."
Mason smiled like a wolf who had read a book on smiling. He offered his hand. "Mason."
Arin looked at the hand. He took it.
Grip. Warm skin. A small jump of heat that wasn't the red pulse, something meaner.
Mason squeezed. He was stronger than he looked. Arin felt bones shift—and then the drum in his chest answered, steady and hot. His fingers tightened without trying. The strength came easy, too easy, as if the handshake had a lever hidden in it.
Mason's smile thinned.
"Play nice," Nova said sharply.
"Always," Mason said, and tried to twist Arin's wrist. Arin didn't move. The twist kept going until Mason's own forearm protested with a tiny, ugly sound.
Mason pulled back with a hiss and covered it with a laugh. "Good grip."
Arin released him. "You too."
Clean again. Air back. The hum in Arin's chest wouldn't lie down.
Nova's eyes flicked between them. "Do I need to page security?"
"No," both of them said.
Mason flexed his hand once, twice, hiding the shake. He leaned in close to Arin, voice low. "You don't belong here."
Arin kept his voice lower. "Neither do threats."
Mason's jaw worked. He looked at Nova like she was a prize at the end of a rigged game. "Dinner tonight?"
"Can't," Nova said, eyes never leaving Arin's. "Studying."
"With him?"
"With me," she said. Not an answer. An answer.
Mason blinked slow. Then he clapped Arin on the shoulder, too hard. "Welcome to the neighborhood."
Arin didn't move.
Mason turned away, smiled at the nurse like he'd never been anything but polite, and disappeared down the hall toward room three.
Nova shut the window. Opened the door. Pulled Arin into the narrow staff corridor and closed them into a bubble of humming light.
Messy, all at once. "Are you okay? Did he—let me see your hand."
"I'm fine."
She grabbed it anyway. Turned it palm up. Her thumbs pressed into his skin like she could erase whatever Mason had left behind.
"Nova," he said.
Her fingers softened and stayed. The heat jumped. She swallowed a sound. "God, I hate this," she whispered, then shook her head. "No. I don't. That's the problem."
"Breathe," he said.
"Don't tell me to breathe, it makes me think about how I'm breathing." She laughed, helpless, shoved his shoulder, and then didn't let go. "He's going to be a problem."
"Mason?"
"Him, the gray coat, everyone." She looked up at him, eyes glassy and sharp. "You're making me reckless."
"Same."
Her pager beeped. She flinched like it had slapped her. "I have to—"
"Go," he said, even as his own body said don't.
She backed away, then came forward again and kissed his jaw, quick, angry at the space. "Don't leave."
"I won't."
She vanished into the noise. The door sighed shut.
Clean. Cool. He leaned against the wall and watched his hand open and close. The strength was there in the tendons, the bones, like someone had poured hot metal into the blueprint.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown: Measuring grip strength through cameras now? Cute.
Arin looked up at the dark glass eye in the corner. He could see his own small reflection in it. He typed.
Arin: Find someone else to stalk.
Unknown: Phase Two requires pressure. Consider this… calibration.
The dots vanished.
Arin slipped the phone away and walked back into the lobby. Mason sat in a chair with his legs stretched, pretending to scroll. He looked up like his eyes had been waiting.
"Gym," Mason said. "Tonight."
"No."
"Afraid?"
"Busy."
Mason's smile came back mean. "Come prove you're not just hands."
"Grow up," Arin said, and sat.
Mason snorted. "You'll learn."
A woman wheeled an old man in. A toddler sobbed into a blanket. Life layered itself over their staring like a film.
Nova's shift finally let her breathe. She returned with a chart in one hand and a paper cup in the other. She set the cup beside Arin, never touching him, and the not-touch almost hurt.
Mason watched it all. "He doesn't look like your type."
Nova didn't look at him. "My type is 'kind.'"
"Then he's not it," Mason said.
Nova's gaze snapped to him. "I was there last night, Mason. Where were you?"
He shut his mouth. Color climbed his neck.
"Enough," the triage nurse said from the desk without looking up. "We serve the sick here, not the stupid."
Mason stood. Straightened his jacket. "Mom's done," he said, lying with confidence. "Let's go."
He left before anyone could call him on it.
Clean again. Quiet enough for the hum to be loud.
Nova leaned against the pillar near Arin. "Thank you," she said softly.
"For what?"
"For not breaking him."
"I almost did," he admitted.
Her mouth twitched. "I know."
Messy returned—fast. She checked the hall. No one. Then she reached and caught his wrist again, pulled his hand to her chest, right over the thrum. "I hate this," she said, breathless. "I hate that you make me—" She broke off and laughed, wrecked. "No I don't. I want you, and it's getting worse."
"Tonight," he said.
"Tonight," she echoed, eyes dark.
A shadow moved outside the glass doors. Gray coat. A phone raised. Lowered. Gone.
Clean snapped back like a wire.
"Stay in public," Arin said, voice low.
"Do I look like I can think in public right now?" she whispered, and then she did the most dangerous thing: she stepped away. "Finish your water. I'll page you when I can walk you out."
He nodded. Watched her go. Felt the drum in his chest steady into something like resolve.
He didn't see Mason again. He didn't need to. The shape of Mason's anger had been drawn.
His phone buzzed once more, a blunt tap.
Unknown: Grip: 160 lbs. Reaction time: above 99th percentile. Heart rate variance: fascinating.
Arin typed, thumb firm. Arin: Meet me. Talk like a person.
Dots. Then:
Unknown: Soon.
Nova's page beeped. She waved him toward the exit with a small, tired grin that hit like lightning.
Arin stood. The door sighed open. Evening slid in—cool, damp, lit by a sky that couldn't decide between blue and bruised purple.
Mason stepped from the shadow of the bus stop, smile back in place. He offered his hand again, as if the first handshake hadn't happened.
"Last chance," he said. "Gym."
Arin looked at the hand. Looked at Nova behind the glass, watching. Looked at the gray coat across the street pretending to check his weather app.
He took Mason's hand.
The drum hit once. The world sharpened.
Mason squeezed. Harder. Arin answered, pressure rising in a slow, steady climb until he felt tendons grind under his palm.
Mason's eyes slid to panic and back to rage. "Let go," he said through his teeth.
Arin didn't.
He leaned in, voice clean and quiet. "Leave her alone."
A tiny pop sounded in their grip, soft as a finger cracking, ugly as a promise. Mason sucked a breath and jerked free, stumbling a step.
Nova pressed a hand to the glass, alarmed. The gray coat across the street lifted his phone and took a photo.
Cliffhanger landed. Everything hung.
"See you soon," Mason said, voice high and thin. He cradled his hand and walked fast, pretending it was a choice.
Arin didn't watch him go. He looked at Nova. He looked at the gray coat.
He smiled without warmth at the watcher and spread his fingers like he was showing a magic trick.
The phone buzzed before he could put it away.
Unknown: Calibration complete. Phase Two begins.
The message sat cold on the warm evening.
Arin opened the door for Nova. She stepped out. Close. Shaken. Wanting.
"Walk me," she said.
"Always," he said.
They turned the corner together, and the city watched them like it had plans.