Lilianna followed the gesture, and she saw Neville Hope resting on a barstool.
Neville's hazel-brown hair was slightly mussed, his nerd glasses catching the light. He was nursing a drink that was definitely not his first one of the day.
And standing beside him was Grayson Maxwell. They were close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
Lilianna's smile was still there, but deep inside, she was sitting.
'Would you look at that? A bold mutt, hovering around our general like he owns him.'
Grayson was leaning against the bar with one arm, his body angled toward Neville. Somehow, it created an invisible wall between them and the rest of the room.
He seemed to be saying something to Neville. His expression was somewhere between exasperation and something softer.
Feelings, exclusively just for Neville.
Looking at this scene made her almost lose control of herself.
