Page 137 of Stormbreaker

“No, she wouldn’t do that.” I chew my bottom lip. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“Why would I tell anyone?”

I frown. “Wait. Which syllable were you emphasizing?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Which syllable did you emphasize? The ‘why’ would suggest you wouldn’t tell, the ‘tell’ would suggest you want to keep it a secret, or the ‘anyone’ would suggest maybe you regret it.”

He offers me a bemused look. “I think you’re making my head hurt.”

I huff.

“That girl is your friend?” He gestures to my phone, talking about Silver.

“Yes. No. She was my friend . . .”

“I don’t think she’s your friend now,” he says. “I only met her because she was asking about you and me . . . and the kiss. And, well, nothing she said was very nice.”

Something deflates in my chest. I knew it, but hearing it confirmed hurts.

“Everyone’s been really hard on you about this whole switching Houses thing,” he says.

“I hadn’t noticed,” I reply with an eye roll, earning me a small laugh.

“Why does this matter so much? Trinity—the other one who switched? Why don’t they care about her?”

I press my lips together, and he arches a brow.

“You’ll hate this answer,” I say.

“You don’t know what I’ll hate.”

“Because I am . . . important.” I wince, shamed by the sound of it. “Or rather, my position was important. I was supposed to marry Knox to help secure my father’s position and keep our House stable. When I switched to Aria, I threatened all that . . .”

I trail off.

“I can’t believe they wanted you to marry that dickhead.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“You’re right,” he says. “I do hate that answer.”

But there’s no real heat in his words, only a hint of defeat.

“That’s a lot to put on you,” he adds.

He rakes a hand through his wet hair, while I note the bunching and flexing of his arms and chest as he moves, and it’s very distracting.

“I guess,” I say.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I bet you don’t deserve any of that.”

I scoff. “Don’t I?”

He tips his head with a sympathetic look. I glance at the towel still around his waist and throw off my blanket before I say something about that drop of water meandering down his chest.

“I’ll take a shower,” I say. “You can finish dressing.”