Page 74 of Dream On, Liar

“What?” He frowned.

“You were fine with me the other day. You’ve been fine with me since we called it a truce. So what happened?”

He blinked, remaining silent as I captured my lower lip between my teeth, trying—and failing—to read his body language.

I hated that I noticed it was the first time I couldn’t do this. I hated that it felt like I was gaining his trust, and suddenly he woke up and decided to take it all back. I hated that I cared.

I finally muttered. “You’ve barely spoken to me all day.”

“So?” The word landed like a door closing, but I kept my foot to keep it from slamming shut.

“So, you’re being weird,” His jaw tightened, a small muscle jumping near his cheek. I folded my arms, trying to hold my ground even as something in my chest started to feel too tight. “Why do you always have to be so hot and cold? We have a truce remember?”

Something strange flickered across his expression before his eyes sharpened. Like he genuinely couldn’t believe that I was bringing this up.

“Again with this truce. I may have agreed to work with you, but trust me, I haven’t moved past what happened.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I quipped back, voice tightening despite myself. “That’s why I’m asking, like an adult, instead of hoping you’d read my mind miraculously. So. What’s wrong?”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then let out a clipped, humourless laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.” I replied instantly.

His gaze held mine. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“Answer the question Raina asked you on the beach.”

I faltered, but he didn’t care as he stepped closer.

“Why did you write that paper on me?” Something in his voice made my stomach drop. He stepped closer again and it was enough to make the space between us smaller.

“Over the last couple of days,” he continued, voice tightening, “between the press conference, the interviews, social media…do you have any idea how much of a microscope I’ve been under?”

I pressed my lips together, taking a step back—for my own sake. Because the proximity was suddenly chilling. It didn’t matter that the sparks I felt had left a fire in my stomach, the…resentment in his voice had woken me up.

“Twelve hours.” He said, his voice louder this time. The disbelief was evident too, almost like even after two days, he refused to believe it. “The media berated the entire board for almost twelve hours. Have you even seen it? The headlines they’ve written about the entire panel. Your father.”

“Before your research paper,” he continued, each word measured now, controlled in a way that made it worse, “there wasn’t a scratch on my career. Not one. A month and a half ago, nobody was questioning my fitness, my bowling, my decisions. Nobody was digging through my history trying to turn it into a headline. And yesterday, I was left for the vultures to eat me away too.”

My throat tightened.

A bitter exhale left him when all I could do was stare at him.

“You want to know the worst part? Ever since I’ve been part of this team, your father has ran a tight ship,” he went on, voice lower now, edged with something heavier. “I know you know that. There hasn’t been a single scandal around me because he makes sure there isn’t. Every media piece is handled before it ever sees the light of day. My career has been protected from this kind of shit for years.”

He shook his head once, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“And then you published a paper without even telling him. So, now, they’ve finally got something to latch onto. After almost a year since the last scandal, which barely moved anyone because the said player got fired—they’ve finally got something to use as click bait. So, they win. You got a promotion. So, you win. All the while the people who made calculated decisions are being dragged through the mud. And, now, you think I need to uphold this truce of ours, for your sake?”

I couldn’t reply.

Because I didn’t have an answer that didn’t make it worse.

Because I hadn’t thought it would become this.

Because I hadn’t thought about him like this.