He rushed over and grabbed her wrist, spinning her around to face him.

"Emily Blair."

Emily blinked in surprise. "Tristan Davis? What are you doing here?"

She couldn't help but smile, as if amused. "It's fine, you really don't need to come with me. Go back and-"

Tristan's eyes were tense, fixed on hers. "Emily, you've got it all wrong."

She took a moment to process that. "What do you mean?"

Tristan's throat tightened. "Cynthia Rivera-the girl you mentioned—it's not what you think. We're not together. She's not my girlfriend. Please don't get the wrong idea."

He watched her face intently, desperate for any flicker of relief or happiness in her expression.

But there was nothing. Not even the slightest hint of joy or ease.

Something heavy settled in Tristan's chest, so thick he could barely speak. "Emily, could you at least react? Say something."

Emily's expression was innocent as she asked, "So you're not dating her?"

A glimmer of hope flashed in Tristan's eyes. “No, I'm not. We're just friends, I swear. I don't have feelings for her."

Emily blinked, smiling with a playful edge. “Tristan, that's not fair. If you don't like her, then why were you hugging her? I mean, you two were holding each other for ages. Isn't that a bit much if you're not giving her any sort of commitment?"

Tristan's grip on her wrist tightened suddenly, disbelief written all over his face. "What are you talking about?"

He leaned in, his voice growing urgent, staring at her impassive expression as the ache in his chest deepened. "Emily, are you saying you want me to be with her?"

"Why are you reacting like this? Shouldn't you be mad at me? Shouldn't you be yelling at me or, I don't know, slapping me?"

Before she could react, Tristan lifted her hand and smacked it against his own cheek, the sharp sound breaking the tension.

“That's what you should be doing. Hit me. Why aren't you mad?"

Emily's mind spun, lost between his barrage of questions and the absurdity of him making her slap him. "What are you even talking about? I don't get it."

When Tristan looked ready to force her hand against his face again, Emily yanked her hand free. "Tristan, are you out of your mind?"

A lock of Tristan's hair fell over his eyes, shadowing his expression. His deep eyes, usually so composed, now brimmed with something like wounded hope as he looked at her.

After a moment's silence, he spoke softly. "Emily, how can you say things like that?" Strangely, Emily thought his eyes looked a little like a puppy's—sad and pleading. "What did I say? Fine, I must have gotten it wrong. Let's just drop it, okay? Please don't look at me like that. I promise I won't say anything like that again.”

Tristan stepped closer, lowering his head so he was looking right at her. "It hurts, you thinking of me that way."

Emily's lips twitched in spite of herself. "Alright, I won't think that way anymore." Suddenly Tristan shot her a look full of frustration and despair, emphasizing each word. “Emily Blair, I'm single. Do you get that? Single."

Emily nodded quickly. "I get it, I do. You're single. Top-tier bachelor, got it."

Tristan fixed her with that same intense look. "I'm not with anyone else. She was the one who wouldn't let go, I couldn't get her off me. Do you understand?"

"I understand, I do."

He wasn't finished. "How could you think I was dating someone else? You saw us hugging and just walked away, saying you wished us well? What is going on in that head of yours?"