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“Thanks.” I wrap my fingers around the glass, the chill seeping into my bones. I take a sip, the bitterness sharp on my tongue.
Laughter erupts around me. I force a smile, raise the bottle, cheer with the rest. But inside, I’m far from this place. Far from the easy banter and the glow of the screen.
I’m back at the amusement park, with her laughter in my ears and her touch on my skin. And now, here, with her father’s arm slung around my shoulders like we’re old pals.
It’s a charade. A play I didn’t audition for, yet can’t seem to exit.
41
BRIELLE
The clang of pots and the hiss of the stovetop fill the kitchen with a symphony of frustration. Levi is towering over the counter, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the marble.
“Levi, I didn’t ask for your help,” I snap, grabbing a spatula to flip the sizzling chicken in the pan. The aroma of herbs and spices does little to soothe the tension between us.
He leans in, too close, his breath hot on my cheek. “You’re doing it wrong,” he insists, his voice low and grating.
“Back off.” I shove him away with more force than necessary. His presence is like a storm cloud in my sunny kitchen. “Why do you even care?” I whirl around to face him, spatula still in hand. “Why can’t you just let me be?”
Levi’s jaw clenches, and his eyes, usually so warm and playful, are now storms themselves. “Because you’re not thinking straight. This thing with Grayson and Conrad…it’s complicated, Brielle.”
“Complicated?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it, only a sharp edge. “What’s complicated about it?”
“Everything!” He throws his hands up, exasperated. “You’re playing with fire, and you’re going to get burned.”
“Or maybe you’re just mad because—” I bite down on my lip, the words threatening to spill before I can think better of them. But they’re already out there, hanging between us. “Maybe you’re mad because it’s not you.”
Levi freezes, and the air seems to suck right out of the room. His gaze bores into me, searching, probing. “What are you saying?”
“Are you upset because you have feelings for me, Levi?” My heart pounds, daring him to contradict me. “Or do you just dislike seeing me happy?”
His expression shifts through a rapid succession of emotions—anger, hurt, confusion—before settling back on anger. “That’s not fair, Brielle. You know that’s not what this is about.”
“Then tell me,” I demand, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, as much from his proximity as from the argument itself. “Tell me why you care so much.”
But he doesn’t answer, his lips a firm line, his eyes revealing nothing. We’re caught in a silent battle of wills, each waiting for the other to break.
The clink of dishes is like a metronome to our argument, steady and relentless. Levi’s arms are crossed over his chest, a barricade I can’t seem to breach.
“Levi, you’re impossible,” I say, my voice high with frustration. The scent of garlic and onions burns at the back of my throat, mixing with the adrenaline that courses through me.
“Me?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re not even listening.”
“Enough!” The word cuts through the tension like a knife. Dad stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised and a dish towel slung over one shoulder. A brief moment of silence falls, and I hear the refrigerator’s hum, a quiet observer to the chaos.
“Can someone explain what’s going on here?” Dad tries for lightness, but there’s an edge of concern in his voice.
“Your daughter—” Levi starts but I cut him off.
“Levi’s insufferable,” I spit out, the words tasting bitter. “He won’t stop interfering with?—”
“Because you’re clueless, Brielle,” he retorts, equally acidic. “You don’t see?—”
“Okay, okay!” Dad puts up his hands, stepping between us. His eyes find mine, a silent plea for peace. “Maybe it’s best if you two don’t cook together today.”
I open my mouth to argue, but a shrill ding-dong slices through the air, punctuating his suggestion. The doorbell.
“Saved by the bell,” Dad mutters, but I barely hear him. My heart skips a beat, caught off guard. Who could that be now?
