Page 52 of Fallacies

On his way out, Pax grabs my shoulders from behind and gives them an excited shake. “See you tonight, little Reenan.”

I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat and Hunter snickers as he passes me, trailing after Pax. When the screen door shuts behind them all, I exhale a heavy breath.

Looking over at Callan, I find him scowling down at the floor, every muscle in his body wired tight.

“You okay?” I ask, and his head lifts at my question.

He nods once, so deep in thought that it’s making my brain hurt.

I take a sip of my coffee, then set my mug back down. “You’re a shitty liar, you know.”

That gets his attention. “Am I?”

“Mhm.” I push my chair out and stand, bringing my mug over to the sink. “You’ve got too many tells.” Callan tracks me as I turn, leaning against the counter across from him.

“I have tells?” His brows quirk, and when I nod, an amused smile tugs at his lips. “Enlighten me, then.”

“Too much eye contact,” I tell him. “You overcompensate because you think it makes you more truthful. More believing.” His head tilts to the side, muscled arms crossing over his chest as I continue, “Your body language is bad too. It gives everything away.”

Callan watches me for a moment, some sort of decision being calculated behind grey eyes, and right when I’m about to start fidgeting under his stare, he pushes off the counter. I watch him cross the space between us, crowding me until my back bumps against cold granite.

“Okay, Chaos. Since you know me so well…” Callan braces a hand on either side of me, caging me in, making it slightly harder to breathe. He brings his nose to the tip of mine, and I’m tempted to smile. “What’s the first lie I ever told you?”

It isn’t what I expected him to ask, and that surprise must be evident on my face because he looks pleased to have caught me off guard.

It takes effort to think with him staring at me this way, but I vaguely recall the first conversations we’d ever had, trying to determine what lie he would have slipped in back when we borderline couldn’t stand each other.

But even then, I don’t think he would have lied to me… Maybe it’s a trick question?

Giving up, I shrug. “I don’t know.”

Callan leans down, whispering against the shell of my ear, “I said I don’t care if you trust me.” He moves hair off my neck, and I suck in a breath, the calloused pads of his fingers brushing against my collarbone. “Do you remember that?” he asks, but it’s getting hard to focus on his words. “I had you against the door to your cabin. The one I had just fixed.” Callan presses his lips against the base of my throat, ghosting them across my skin. My eyes flutter shut. “How was my body language then?”

“Angry from what I can remember,” I force out.

He hated me that day for dragging Pax into playing poker, and I hated him for busting the door down. I said he was jealous, and we both knew I was right, but he was too angry to admit it.

“How about my eye contact?” Callan teases, his mouth moving lazily down the column of my throat, and I arch off the counter, searching for more. Callan slips a hand around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Long, I bet,” he murmurs against my jaw before pressing a kiss there too. “But not because I was lying, Lucina.”

I know he’s speaking, but with the blood rushing in my ears, deciphering what he’s saying is a task that requires more effort than usual.

“No?” I rasp, then inhale sharply as his fingers skate across my waistband. The brush of his hand lights a fire beneath my skin, and the laugh he huffs against my temple tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“No.” Callan shakes his head, his hand sliding under my sweater, trailing the skin along my ribs. My entire body shivers. “Because I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. Never could,” he admits, brushing a knuckle across my breast without warning.

I gasp, and he grins. Then he does it again, spreading his hand over the sensitive skin and palming it lightly. The pressure is just hard enough that my head falls back.

“Eyes, Chaos.”

With a groan, I lift my head, pressing my hips further into him. “Why?”

“Why what?” he fires the question back at me, fingers digging into my side, pulling me closer to him. “Why do I ask to see your eyes?”

I manage a nod, attention darting from his stare to the ripple of his hand beneath my shirt. His other lifts my thigh until it’s tucked against his waist, and I squirm in his grip, finding friction against the hardening bulge in his jeans.

Callan’s response comes out strained, “Lucina, I’ve never understood the way I am around you. All I know is when I need to see them,” his lips ghost over mine, setting me aflame, “I need to see them.”

“Callan.”