I clenched my teeth together, fighting the exasperation that welled as he coolly looked back. I refused to give him a reaction.
“That’swho Mr. ASMR is, then?” Beck asked. He tipped his chin in the direction of the garden. “A secret lover?”
“Don’t say anything.”
“Makes sense that it’s a secret. Itispretty geeky. ASMR is all the whispery roleplay stuff, isn’t it? You watch that, Nell? I’m scandalized.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” The quip slipped out before I could stop it.
Beck’s lips spread into a devilish grin.
I knew what he was doing. Baiting me—successfully. He always could. Before, his teasing had been harmless. A welcomed sort of button pushing, because if he’d picked on me, it’d meant he’d been paying attention to me. And my chest, even now, gave an embarrassing, traitorous flutter—one I crushed instantly.
Before, button pushing had been harmless.
Now, button pushing was dangerous.
“You don’t want him, you know,” Beck went on as he came closer, giving up on his initial pass at flustering me. He decided to change his strategy. “You only want him because you want to get an in with his father.”
I looked around, making sure Carter had continued down the path. “How do you know his father?”
“I have ears.” Beck tapped one of them. “And people are loudmouths at the ADP parties. Dr. Pembleton, the most revered lawyer-turned-professor at Mullhound—which, coincidentally, is the college your father went to, right?”
“I like Carter forhim. I knew him as Mr. ASMR before knowing him as a Pembleton.”
“I saw the way you looked at him.” Beck stopped a foot from me, green eyes tracing my frame as if committing me to memory. “You don’t look at him the way you used to look at me.”
It was as if he’d stuck a knife between my ribs, my body tensing with the shock.
It was strange to be alone with Beck in between the rosebushes now, steps away from the serenity garden that used to beour place, and to truly have his undivided attention. I became acutely aware of how much space Beck took up now. How the years had settled into his shoulders, his stance. I hated that my body noticed before I could tell it not to. My heart couldn’t quite reconcile the fact that the person before me was practically a stranger, pulse still hammering like it recognized his face.
But a lot could change about a person in four years.
I’d changed.
“I let you have your moment last night,” I began, something buzzing in my chest. “You spilled your drink on my feet. I didn’t tell anyone that you’d done it on purpose. Let’s just… leave it at that, and leave each other alone.”
Beck tilted his head. “Why didn’t you tell?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Why didn’t you throw me under the bus? You didn’t have a problem with it before.”
It was a dig, but a shallow one. I could still claw my way away from the memory before it swallowed me whole. “Because it was meaningless. Harmless. A power grab. You think you’re the only one who can read people?” I took a half-step closer. Ten inches between us now. “You spilled the drink on me because you felt like you needed to be in control.”
The amusement dimmed in Beck’s expression. I’d seen his face when he’d recognized me last night—forced politeness blinking into something dark. Something more unsettled. I’d seen the waver of his hand before he dumped the cup over. Grappling for power to appease his ego.
In the same steady voice, I went on. “I can let you have last night, but if you ruin this for me…” I lifted my eyes to his, and this time, nothing in me lurched at the connection. No, I was steady as I stared him down, as were the words that left my mouth next. “I will ruin you.”
I watched as my threat washed over Beck. Instead of shaking him to his core—the final drive of my hammer to his nail—it did the exact opposite.
A wide grin bloomed across his mouth, making him almost look manic. He took a step closer, mirroring me, until not even six inches stretched between us. He leaned his head down, bringing it near level with mine. Four inches apart. His platinum hair seemed to glow with shining sunlight, and one might’ve thought he was angelic-looking, until they saw his eyes. Vividly green and laced with venom.
“I wish you could’ve felt the thrill that raced through me when you said that,” Beck murmured, a delicate, shameful drawl. “Say it again.”
My mouth went dry. “I’m serious.”
“I know.” Beck lifted his hand, reaching. “You get this little line right between your eyebrows when you’re serious?—”
He’d stretched his finger toward me, and I smacked it away without thinking twice. The sound echoed into the air like a gunshot.
Inexplicably, Beck’s smile stretched wider as his hand fell back to his side. “I remember you being more fun, Nellie.”
