Page 42 of Dream On, Liar

“Honestly, I’m not even sure if that’s what’s holding me back.”

“Then what is it?”

Turning my head towards, I spoke softly. “If I quit…that would mean Rihaan wins. That he’ll know that clearly him bringing in that PT and throwing a tantrum meant I was rattled enough to quit. When my paper and all that attention has barely moved him and I hate that idea more than anything else.”

“Well, arrogant douche bags are hard to twist.” She pointed out, before sighing. “Then, I guess we just find you a different silver lining.”

I nodded again, watching her as she blinked back at me. When a few long seconds passed and we both stayed quiet, she finally spoke again.

“Are we doing that, now?” She asked. “Because, I came here straight from a meeting that frankly has my head spinning with ideas and stuff I need to get on with…and I’ve had like half a protein bar since lunch.”

I frowned. “You went to a Michelin star restaurant and had nothing?”

“Didn’t wanna eat and talk,” She replied. I raised a brow, clearly able to read her tone that say she was holding something back. “Okay. I kinda lost my appetite when I saw the menu had no prices.”

“Right on.” My shoulders dropped.

She nodded. “We can stop at Batra House on the way home? If we’re doing comfort night, we can add a bit of celebration to it, and Batra uncle’s Dal Makhni has our name written on it. OH! It’s a Monday, he’s going to have gulab jamuns too.”

“And a bottle of tequila to that list, and I’m sold.”

Rihaan

THE SECOND I WALKED through the front door, my little sister’s voice floated down the hallway in a syrupy, high pitched sing-song that made me stop mid-step. It was the kind of voice people used on babies, puppies, or the two tiny devil that ran in our house.

“You’re so cuddly today, Lilli,” she cooed, her voice filled with a rare emotion. “I love it. Maybe there’s a good side to...”

I slipped off my shoes as her voice turned down to a whisper, and even though every part of me screamed to wash off the fury that was burning under my skin, I walked towards the open space.

“Will you cuddle...” A quiet kiss muffled her words. “...too, or are you going to ignore...” Another kiss. "...like your brother does, hmm?” Another loud kiss echoed through the room just as I entered the open space, but before I could focus on her words. She continued speaking, making me wish I’d gone upstairs as I bit back a cringe. “Let’s hope Daddy got the right yogurt this time…”

Raina laid back against one of the couches, her body facing the TV as the news played out. Lilli was sprawled across her chest like a sleepy scarf, completely at ease beneath the relentless affection as my little continued pressing kisses to her fur.

“Please,” I began slowly, making her jump. Her head whipped in my direction so fast, I was worried she might actually sprain something. “never call Oliver that again. Or at least, check your surroundings once, and spare my ears because...no.”

Raina’s eyes were wide as saucers, mirroring Lilli’s own offended stare perfectly as they watched me. For a brief second, both of them looked deeply guilty, like I’d interrupted a secret meeting, making me frown.

“Sorry. I thought you were Oliver,” she muttered, attempting to slide up straight before pausing when Lilli refused to move.

“That somehow raises more questions.” I pointed out, but she ignored me completely, smoothing a hand down Lilli’s back instead. The cat melted further against her chest with a low, rumbling purr, which immediately put me on alert. Lilli wasn’t clingy. Normally, she tolerated affection the way royalty tolerated peasants. The only times she ever turned into a living stuffed animal was when Raina was stressed, anxious, or upset about something she refused to talk about.

I pushed off the doorway and stepped into the living area properly. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” The answer came too fast as her eyes flicked toward the open laptop sitting beside her before snapping back to me.

“You’re home early,” she said carefully. “Did something happen?”

“Now, why would you assume that?” I asked, tossing the question right back at her as I dropped onto the couch beside her purely because I knew it would annoy her.

Raina had an entire thing about outside clothes touching furniture, and her, and the second I sat down in jeans that had survived the horrors of the public world, her expression turned downright murderous. I took immense satisfaction in it as I got comfortable in my spot.

“Because you’re a jerk,” she replied dryly, waving a hand in my direction. “Case in point. And if I’ve learnt anything these past few years living with you, it’s that you’ve been hiding something too.”

“I’m a very nice person, thank you very much—” Raina snorted, as a ‘yeah, right’ expression plastered across her face. Even Lilli meowed, like she was in support of her mother’s argument. “And unlike you, I don’t do secrets.”

“You’re a Patel. Secrets are all we know.” She tilted her head slightly, and I watched the shift happen in real time. Her expression sharpened, curiosity sliding into place with the same intensity it always did whenever her journalist brain latched onto something. It was the exact look that made people accidentally confess things they probably should’ve taken to the grave. I goddamn hated that look.

“So,” she continued, “if you don’t do secrets, do you care to explain why, out of every player in the sport—let alone athlete in the world—Maeve decided to write a whole research paper on you?” She gestured vaguely toward me. “Sure, your ego has been inflated beyond repair ever since everyone started calling you the fastest bowler alive and what not, but that’s still relatively new. And personally?” Her mouth twitched. “I don’t even think you’re the best or the most egotistical player in the game. So you must’ve done something to piss her off years ago if she based an entire paper around you.”