Abel let out a low laugh when she warned him, eyes flicking over her with open admiration. “Winning?” he echoed smoothly. “Berta, I don’t win against you, I survive. And even then, barely.” His grin turned competitive. “But don’t get it twisted. Confidence looks good on you just not as good as competitiveness looks on you." When she promised they didn’t have to miss each other right now, Abel leaned in, voice dropping, softer but no less charged. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m terrible at pretending I don’t want you when you’re right here.” At her sad smile, his tone gentled. “Hey. Two weeks is ours. I’m not wasting a single second thinking about the goodbye.” At her teasing about his looks, Abel shook his head, scoffing dramatically. “Handsome and tall? Careful,” he said, smirking. “You keep talking like that and I’m going to start believing I’m the best decision you ever made." At the tiger-sized cat comment, Abel laughed, already committed. “A big one? Fine. But when it ignores me and only listens to you, you're gonna be the one cleaning it's litter box." When she teased about him admitting defeat, he leaned back, mock-offended. “Whoa, whoa. Don’t get greedy,” he shot back. “My pride is premium. You don’t just get that for free. I want to be about to gloat loud and proud." Her kneeling comment earned a slow, dangerous smile. “Victory sex is absolutely a thing,” Abel said calmly. “And if I win? I expect you to be very gracious about it.” As she declared him already losing, he chuckled. “Bold talk for someone about to be proven wrong,” he replied. “But I like your confidence. Makes winning sweeter.” At her question about food, Abel considered it for half a second before glancing at her. He wiggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly, playful and unapologetic. “Mm,” he said smoothly, voice dipping just enough to make it dangerous. “I’m hungry.” He let the pause linger just long enough before adding, eyes on her, unmistakable. “Just not for food.” His grin turned competitive and affectionate all at once. Abel’s eyes dragged over her shamelessly, slow and appreciative, like he was committing the view to memory. He tilted his head, licked his lips, and let out a quiet, impressed hum. Then, with a satisfied grin, he got into the passenger seat, stretching out comfortably. Passenger princess mode engaged. He glanced back at her, eyebrows lifting again. “Alright,” Abel said smoothly, relaxed and smug. “Take me home, baby."
at his teasing about being the best decision she’d ever made, berta rolled her eyes dramatically, though the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “you’re not tall enough to be my best decision,” she shot back, turning in her seat just to stick her tongue out at him. truth was, she’d choose abel over and over without hesitation—but he didn’t need to hear that right now. “and obviously i want the cat to love both of us. but i’m cleaning the litter box, i’m the one basically always home,” she added, lifting her brows as if that settled it. when he summarized their little bet, she nodded thoughtfully. “so what you want is for me to admit you won, that i lost, and then sleep with you?” she tapped her chin. “i’m very into the second part of that deal.” his confidence only fueled her competitive streak. “and who exactly has proven me wrong before? i always win. you’ve maybe won once. maybe.” she tried to recall, conveniently ignoring the times she’d flipped the chessboard or sabotaged monopoly before defeat could be official. losing simply wasn’t in her vocabulary—that was her red flag and she owned it. when he mentioned being hungry but not for food, her brows lifted, lips parting in a playful grin. “you’re dangerous, airhart,” she murmured. “skipping food isn’t smart though. low energy means you’ll be a disappointing opponent, and then i’ll get bored.” she winked. “home it is.” once they pulled up, she barely waited for the engine to stop before hopping out, hurrying to grab his bags from the back. “okay, ready?” she beamed, reaching for his hand and tugging him toward the door with barely contained excitement, already plotting how she’d make sure she still came out on top.

















