Page 95 of Dream On, Liar

I stared at him, and before I could stop myself, I asked. “What family stuff?”

He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“Try me.” I replied so quick, it made him grin.

“Curiosity kills the cat, you know?”

I shrugged. “I thought you weren’t a fan of cats?”

“Hm, I might’ve had a new experience to change my mind.”

I raised a brow.

“My sister’s devil cats have finally scummed to my charm—or maybe just grown used to me, and are no longer my enemy number one.”

“Well, that’s good,” I added, unsure what else I could even say at this point.

I turned slightly, ready to head back towards the table.

His fingers caught my wrist.

Gently.

The touch was so light that I could have pulled away without effort.

I didn't.

A tiny flutter moved through my stomach anyway.

His gaze dropped to where his hand rested against my skin, then lifted to mine.

The drunkenness was still there, but something else had surfaced beneath it.

Something quieter. “Why did you leave that night?”

My heart gave an uncomfortable little beat.

I looked at him, afraid to burst the tiny bubble we’d managed to create around us. But it was the pleading look in his eyes that made me relent easily. “I found out you'd lied from my friend.”

His expression shifted. He searched my face, like he was looking for some indication that I'd misunderstood him.

I watched the realisation settle. “She knew who I was.”

I nodded. “She’s a much bigger cricket fan than I am.”

He frowned then. “Then how come you’re the one working in this sport?”

“Honestly?” I started. “It may have something to do with pissing off my mother.”

“You’re kidding.”

I shook my head. “I’d done my bachelors in Sports Medicine. Something that pleased both my mother and father, but after some stuff, I decided to do my post grad in Sports Physiotherapy.”

His eyes twinkled, like he’d found a piece of the puzzle he’d been trying to solve for days.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”