But maybe Grant wasn’t as indifferent as I thought he was.
Lighten the mood, I thought. Change the subject. Stop focusing on your inner turmoil. No one cares. Not even you.
I shrugged. “Maybe that’s why I want to feel powerless,” I said. “Why I want to feel pain.” I nudged his shoulder. “Admit it. You like that stuff as much as I do.”
Did he know I was referencing sadomasochism? A contradiction lit up inside of my mind, battling for control: if he didn’t understand, then it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.Hedidn’t matter.
But if he did understand, then what? He could always leave too. And being close to him like that would hurt so much worse.
His eyes enveloped me, daring me to writhe away.
“I never said otherwise,” he said. I bit my lip, looking away. I sucked in a breath. “Be yourself,” he added. As if it were that simple. “I’ll be here no matter what.”
I studied him, trying to find the cracks in his words. But his squared jaw was relaxed, and his eyes were earnest.
It was a job to him. That was the only explanation.
Part of me hoped, orwishedthat these things I told myself were lies too. That maybe he did care. That I wasn’t his latest assignment.
