I watch her pull out her phone, already making lists like nothing’s wrong.
“So, we tell Troy nothing happened,” Tara says, pacing the hallway. “we just did our community service, stayed away from each other, end of story.”
“Right. Because that’s totally believable.” I can’t keep the edge from my voice. “You really think he won’t notice?—”
“Notice what?” She stops pacing to glare at me. “There’s nothing to notice. We pretended, it’s done. We can go back to being Troy’s sister and Troy’s best friend who tolerate each other.”
“Is that what you think this was? Pretending?”
“Wasn’t it?” But her voice wavers slightly. “You made it pretty clear this was all for show.”
“I made it clear?” I step closer, anger and want making my blood hot. “You’re the one who ran away from that dinner without a word. You’re the one acting like none of this meant anything.”
“Because it can’t mean anything!” She throws up her hands. “I mean it didn’t.”
“Upstairs. Now.” I gently grab hold of her wrist, ignoring Ethan’s wolf whistle as I lead her to my room. The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly the space feels too small.
“What happened?” I demand. “Things were fine and now?—”
“I told you. Food poisoning.” She won’t look at me, arms crossed like armor.
“Bullshit.”
She flinches at my tone, but I’m too angry to care. I’ve spent days replaying everything in my head, her laugh in my lab, her fingers tracing my jawline, how she’d defend my research to anyone who’d listen. Was it all just... practice? Getting to know each other for show?
Maybe I imagined it all. Saw what I wanted to see because for once in my life, someone seemed to understand me. But that’s not what this was about. It was always meant to be temporary. Fake.
“Fine,” I say finally, a lump forming in my throat. “Troy arrives, we pretend we never pretended, and that’s that.”
“Fine.” Her voice is tight.
“We’ll finish our community service hours?—”
“Separately. I’ll get a new buddy.”
“Right. Separately. And go back to?—”
“Being nothing to each other.”
The words hang between us. She’s still not looking at me, but I can see her pulse racing at her throat.
“Nothing,” I repeat, stepping closer. “That’s what you want?”
“That’s what’s best.” But she doesn’t step back.
“I didn’t ask what was best.” Another step. “I asked if that was what you wanted. Because the way you kissed me didn’t feel like nothing.”
Her eyes snap to mine, dark with anger and something else. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Remind you how your hands felt in my hair? How you gasped my name?”
“Stop.” She shoves my chest, but I catch her wrists.
“Stop what? Telling the truth?” My voice drops lower. “Or reminding you how perfectly you fit against me?”
“You don’t get to do this.” But her breath catches as I step closer. “You don’t get to act like this means something when you’re the one who keeps reminding me it’s fake?—”
“When I’m the one who what?” I’m close enough now to feel her shaking. “Say it.”
