His Code Name: ULAP (Code Name Series #1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

It’s been a day since that hallway confession, but my mind hasn’t stopped replaying it—his words, his tone, the look in his eyes. Every time I close mine, I hear him say it again. I like you, Garcia.

And now here I am, sewing blue satin for the stage backdrop, trying to not think about it. Trying to act normal.

Except I’m failing miserably.

My hands were slightly shaking as I ran the needle through the fabric, the thread looping neatly until—

“Ow—shit!” I hissed, jerking my hand back as the sharp needle pricked my finger. A small drop of blood formed almost instantly.

Before I could even reach for a tissue, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Garcia!”

Zacharias—no, Jacob—was already running toward me, his brows drawn together in panic.

“Are you okay—” he started, but then his expression shifted from concern to irritation. “Why the fuck do you have to be reckless all the time?”

I blinked. “It’s just a small—”

“Just?!” His tone rose slightly, echoing through the hallway. Heads turned. “Look what you did to yourself! You’re bleeding!”

Oh great, everyone’s watching.

Gian froze mid-paint stroke. Vriella’s eyes widened. Zevi stopped carrying props. Jhessy mouthed a silent ‘oh my god’ from across the room.

“Jacob, calm down—”

“No! Come with me to the clinic.”

“It’s not that deep—”

“It’s bleeding, Garcia! Do you want an infection?!”

His voice was sharp, but the way he held my wrist—carefully, gently—betrayed his worry.

“I can walk by myself, you know,” I muttered.

“C’mon, let’s go! What—you can’t stand up? Let me carry you!”

“Wait, wha—Jacob!”

Before I could protest, he’d already scooped me up bridal style, his arms strong and steady beneath me.

The world tilted for a second, and all I could do was clutch at his shoulder, heat rushing to my face as everyone watched in stunned silence.

“Jacob!” I hissed under my breath. “Put me down!”

“Not a chance,” he said firmly, walking toward the hallway like a man on a mission.

“Everyone’s staring!”

“Then they better look away.”

I buried my face in his chest, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. His scent—soap and something faintly minty—filled my head, making it impossible to think straight.

By the time we reached the clinic, my heart was racing faster than my steps could ever manage.

He kicked the door open gently, setting me down on the small infirmary bed.

“There’s no nurse,” I said quietly. “It’s Saturday.”

“Then I’ll do it,” he said, already rummaging through the drawer for a first-aid kit.

“Jacob, you don’t have to—”

“Stop talking for a sec, Garcia.”

He crouched in front of me, his hands steady now as he dabbed alcohol on a cotton ball. The sting burned a little, but his touch was… gentle.