Elodie's POV
Murphy's mid-story, gesturing animatedly with his fork as he describes a disastrous attempt at skiing during a work trip years ago. I laugh in all the right places, nodding along, genuinely amused despite the strange, prickling awareness sitting low along my spine.
Beckett's watching me.
I haven't turned to check, I refuse to turn to check, but I can feel it regardless, that particular, unmistakable weight of attention settling against my back like warmth from a fire I'm deliberately not facing. It's been there on and off throughout the entire meal, and though I've managed, mostly, to ignore it, right now it feels sharper, more insistent, impossible to entirely dismiss.
'. . . and then the instructor just looks at me, completely deadpan, and says "you do know skis are mean
