What’s the Fun in That?

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The city lights stretched beyond the terrace, the quiet hum of traffic filling the space between them. But inside that moment, there was only him. Only Zaiyo—unshaken, unbothered, standing too close with that same unreadable smirk.

Alexa exhaled slowly. Steadily. *Don't let him get to you.*

"You're wasting your time," she said.

Zaiyo tilted his head slightly, watching her like she was amusing.

"That's funny," he mused. "Because here you are, still talking to me."

She scoffed. "I'm telling you to leave."

"Are you?"

Something in his tone made her stomach tighten.

She turned back toward the railing, fingers brushing the cool metal. "I'm not interested in playing your game."

A pause. Then, smoothly—"You're assuming it's a game."

She hated the way her pulse spiked, hated that he always sounded so *sure.* Like he had already won before the game even started.

"You don't do anything without a reason," she said, keeping her voice even.

"And you think you know my reasons?"

"I know *enough*."

Zaiyo didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a slow step forward, closing the space between them. Not enough to trap her, not enough to touch—but enough that the air felt heavier, like she was standing too close to an open flame.

"You used to be more fun," he murmured.

Alexa clenched her jaw. "You used to be less insufferable."

His lips twitched. "Now that's just a lie."

Her nails pressed against the railing. "Why are you here, Zaiyo?"

This time, there was no hesitation. No teasing. Just quiet certainty.

"You already know why."

Her breath caught.

Because the way he said it—calm, inevitable—sent a shiver down her spine.

And the worst part?

She did know.

She just wasn't ready to admit it.