Chapter Eleven
RILEY
This isthe date from hell.
I don’t know what I expected when I agreed to go out with Kieran Sullivan, but I thought at the very least, there would be some polite conversation.
Apparently that was setting the bar too high because all he’s giving me is nothing but a cold wall of silence since we sat down twenty minutes ago.
I thought this dress would have his eyes glued to my breasts as well as leaving me open for an onslaught of inappropriate comments, but I’m not even getting that. The man is literally giving menothing.
The waiter has had more attention than me, which only pisses me off more.
I shouldn’t be annoyed that Kieran Sullivan isn’t paying me any attention, but I am.
I swirl the wine in my glass and glance around the restaurant.
The lighting is warm, and the ambiance is soft and romantic, though it does nothing to warm Kieran’s icy exterior.
“So…” I force myself to keep my tone upbeat. “What’s the plan? We sit here in silence until one of us dies, or do you think we’ll make it to dessert first?”
“I’m not in the mood for small talk.”
“You’re not in the mood foranytalk.”
“Because this isn’t a real date.”
I slam my glass down a little too hard, and Kieran’s dark eyes flash with irritation.
“I’m well aware of that. But since we’re pretending to be in love for the sake of whatever game your family is playing, maybe you could at leastpretendto be enjoying my company at the very least?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You want me to pretend I’m enjoying myself?”
“Well, I’m not enjoying myself either, but you don’t see me pouting about it like a toddler who missed nap time.”
His jaw ticks, which is the only sign that I’ve touched a nerve.
Good.
“Look, I get that you don’t want to be here with me. Believe me, the feeling’s mutual. But if we’re going to make this convincing, then at least try to act like you can tolerate my presence for more than five seconds.”
Something shifts in his expression, a flicker of something that looks like guilt, and then it’s gone.
“I didn’t ask for this.” Bitterness laces his tone.
“Neither did I. But here we are.”
There’s a pause, and then, as quickly as if he flipped a switch inside himself, he exhales and leans back in his seat. The tension is still present in his shoulders, but some of the ice in his eyes is starting to thaw.
“Fine. You want a conversation? Then talk.”
I reach for my wine. “About what?”
“Something that doesn’t bore me to tears.”
I scowl, and Kieran’s lips twitch at the corners.
“Why don’t you tell me about what you’re studying?”
