Page 32 of Dream On, Liar

Her glare sharpened. “People usually double-check things when they accidentally discover the man they hooked up with is internationally famous.”

“How famous are we talking?” I arched a brow. “Because, that answer will poke holes in your story that you didn’t know him.”

She held her palm up. “I would like to remind you that the mess you are in began with a lie—and your lack of knowledge. So this is like pot lecturing kettle.”

I gaped, pointing a finger at her. “Okay, you want to play that game? Name all the rookies on this year’s squad ‘Miss-I-grew-up-watching-only-cricket’ because I know the next two things you’re gonna say before you even say them.” When she stayed silent, I lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The smug satisfaction barely lasted three seconds before my stomach twisted in protest. Glancing at the clock hanging over the counter once, I started putting together my own yogurt bowl while Samyra drifted somewhere far beyond the kitchen. I still had almost an hour before I needed to be at Lord’s, plenty of time, but I needed food in me before my stomach started growling like I’d been on a hunger strike that had lasted a week.

Settling in next to her once done, I finally nudged her with my shoulder. “Was that all? Or are you still not telling me something?”

A loud exhale confirmed what I already suspected. “It’s just…He’s a…” She groaned hiding her face before slurring out her next words in a single breath. “Ifeelstupid.”

It took me a second to piece her words together, making me frown. “Why? It’s not like you were pretending.”

Her shoulders dropped as she turned to face me. “No, but if I take on this project…I also can’t pretend that I don’t know him.”

She had a point. That would be more awkward.

“Maybe you won’t have to pretend.” When she gave a look that said be-for-real, I quickly added. “I mean,” I rushed on, “maybe he forgot about you too? It was over two years ago, and you haven’t run into each other since.”

“There’s at least a tiny chance he doesn’t remember.” I offered a hopeful shrug when she stayed silent.

She rubbed her temple again. “Yeah, the chances of both of us experiencing the same thing are highly unlikely. No matter how much I actually want that.”

I snorted, my thoughts immediately derailing. “Imagine. The Formula One driver—wait, just a driver or has he won a championship?”

She muttered something under her breath so quickly and quietly I was pretty sure only bats could’ve picked up the frequency.

I arched a brow. “Yes?”

“Three,” she repeated. “He’s won it three times.”

My eyes widened, earning an immediate eye roll from Samyra.

This time, though, my expression didn’t change. “Right. So if the hottest experience of my life managed to forget I existed, then obviously the three-time world champion is still hopelessly hung up on you after two years. I’m sure that’s some kind of balance.”

“Yeah,” she muttered dryly, clearly getting annoyed by the glee in my voice. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

I grinned. “You should’ve. I almost feel better.”

She simply shook her head and focused back on her food. Her gaze fixed on the folder that sat between us.

“Are you seriously thinking about saying no?” I asked, unable to fully read the expression lingering on her face.

“Yeah,” she admitted softly, and I pursed my lips.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“That he remembers me,” she said. “And takes this as some kind of…I don’t know, sign to reconnect?”

“And that would be a bad thing?”

She hesitated, carefully turning over her words before nodding. When she spoke again, her tone carried that unmistakable end of discussion edge.

“He was a one-night stand. That’s all he is ever supposed to be. No matter what.”

I decided then and there that eight in the morning was far too early to unpack Samyra’s Olympic-level commitment to avoid…well, love. So instead, I went for the angle I knew would actually get through to her.