Page 186

Lukas pulls out of me. The loss is sudden and cold. “You don’t have to say it back.”

His voice is perfectly even and calm. You’d think it was a total nothingburger of a moment, not a confession of love. As if he’d offered me dessert and I’d said,No thanks, I’m full.

He rises to his feet and dresses quickly. I scramble upright, too, yanking my sleep shirt over my head, suddenly needing to cover myself.

“Lukas, wait?—”

“I said you don’t have to say it.” He pulls on his pants without looking at me. “I meant that.”

But hedidn’tmean it. Iknowhe didn’t. I know him well enough now to read all those tiny tells.

I know something else about him, too:

When Lukas Lazarev doesn’t get what he wants…

… he takes it.

He finishes dressing and heads down the stairs without another word. I’m left standing alone on the stairs, knowing with absolute certainty that I just fucked something up.

I just don’t know how badly.

62

RAE

TERMS & CONDITIONS

Participants: L. Lazarev (Administrator), R. Everett (Player)

RULES:

1. Player may not climax without Administrator's express permission.

2. Administrator will ask one (1) question at intervals of his choosing.

3. Game concludes when Player provides a truthful answer.

4. There is no time limit.

5. There is only one correct answer, and Player already knows what it is.

The rest of the day passes in a haze of forced normalcy that makes my skin crawl.

Lukas doesn’t speak unless spoken to. He does some cleaning around the house, then cooks dinner. He’s perfectly pleasant with his answers to anything I ask him. He smiles and nods in all the right places.

It’s horrifying.

What happened to the man who cried on the staircase this morning? Who is this bland, polite automaton piloting his body?! I’m very, very confused.

I pick at my food and try to match his energy, but the feeling of wrongness doesn’t go away. Even the wine tastes like spoiled vinegar on my tongue.

When the plates are cleared, Lukas folds his napkin and sets it beside his empty glass. He looks at me, and, for the first time all day, I see the light of life in his eyes.

“Go upstairs,” he says. “Lie on the bed.”

I set down my fork with a clatter. “Lukas, we should talk about what happened?—”

“Go upstairs,” he repeats with endless patience. “Lie on the bed.”