I die.
“Oh my god.” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Can you—can you maybe say something useful?”
His brow lifts. “Like what?”
“I don’t know!” I wave a hand. “How about acknowledging that we’re in this weird situation? That we now have to spend sixty hours together after… after?—”
He just watches me.
Waiting.
Asshole.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I accuse.
His lips press together, like he’s barely holding back a smirk.
I point aggressively. “That. That face. You are enjoying this.”
“Enjoying what?” he asks, all innocence and indifference, which is a bold-faced lie.
“Watching me spiral while you sit there being all…” I gesture at him wildly. “You.”
His head tilts. “All me?”
“Yes! All tall and broody and probably thinking deep thoughts about rocks or something while I’m over here?—”
He actually laughs.
A real one. Deep, effortless.
And I hate how warm it feels.
How it sends something traitorous and stupid fluttering in my chest.
But as rapidly as it appears, it vanishes—his expression closing off like a door slamming shut.
And I hate that even more.
He exhales, eyes dropping back to his coffee.
“This can’t happen again.”
The words land like a punch to the ribs.
I blink. “What, the breaking and entering or the… other stuff?”
His gaze flicks up, steady. Unreadable. Too careful.
“Any of it.”
Something cold and sharp settles in my stomach.
I know he’s right.
If Troy ever finds out what really happened that night—not just the kissing, but the fact that we’re lying—he’d lose his damn mind.
Still.
