Noah POV

I make it back to my room without saying a word to anyone.

The irritation hasn’t left. It sits in my chest, dull and hot, not quite anger—more like the feeling you get when you can see exactly what someone is doing and can’t call it out without looking like the problem. James’s hand at Zoe’s back. The particular angle he’d positioned himself. Every move calibrated, practiced, designed to look natural.

I close the door. Stand in the ...