Page 54

“No.” She swirled her glass, as if shifting through her thoughts. “I’m not upset.”

A flicker of relief bolted through me.

“I’m not really anything.”

Ah. She might as well have stabbed me.

“Oh, I see.” I tried not to sound like a goddamn kicked puppy, but my voice didn’t come out all breezy. “So… that’s a no on the truce?” I scrubbed at my jaw. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

My brows knitted together, one hand drumming a slow metronome on the round wooden table as I scarcely allowed myself to breathe.

“Y-yeah, it was…”

The ice in her glass clinked and tinkled under her frown.

A flash of movement drew my eye like a moth to a fuckin’ flame to the corner of her mouth.

Pink, plump flesh gave under small, white teeth—

My stomach speared me with a slow, heavy roll, and a second too late, I yanked my gaze away.

The whiskey vapours were affecting my judgement.

That had to be it.

Lie.

The illusion shattered with a deafening crack in my ears.

I couldn’t keep up the pretence—not when a particular ill-fated rainy day wouldn’t stop tormenting my dreams, not when I longed to hear her laugh at something I said, for once.

Ragged, breathless drags of air brought no oxygen to my lungs, only making me more light-headed.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she nodded, a barely-there dip of her chin—as reluctant as if she was being held at gunpoint.

The tension bled out of my muscles. My grin and the triumphant glint in my eyes should have concerned me.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” she warned, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “It’s not like we’re best friends now.”

The bubble of warmth in my chest strained against my ribcage, and my lips tugged into an entirely real smile.

“Aww, you worry about my knickers?”

I couldn’t help the smirk pulling at my mouth, just as I couldn’t dispel the warmth that had crept into my voice, despite my efforts to quash it.

“Oh, shut up,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. But the reluctant half-smile she couldn’t quite keep off her face gave me a heady shot of hope.

My hand tightened on the armrest as my legs locked up—the last thing I wanted was to get up and leave.

I wanted to linger and actually… talk, for once.

Is that so much to ask?

But that wasn’t the kind of world we lived in. And maybe it would never happen—not as I had blind dates, vanishing invitations, and the ever-present breath on the back of my neck to worry about.

So I stood up, even as the curve to my mouth had turned brittle.

“Happy holidays, Josh.” Her shoulders drew tight, as if she’d battled against herself to say it.