Page 132 of The Encore’s Crown

That gets a small laugh out of him.

“But not just that.” I look across the room, though Kiri's disappeared.

Rithy turns his glass slowly between his fingers. I should leave, go freshen up and throw some water on my face. I shouldn't ask what keeps spinning in my slightly inebriated brain. I should leave him alone because it's mean to poke someone exactly where they try to pretend there isn't a wound. But he poked mine first.

“Why are you still in love with Rafe?”

Rithy chokes on his champagne. He coughs, then presses the back of his hand to his mouth, before levelling me with a stare that makes the back of my neck prickle. His eyes are more intense than I’ve ever noticed, but I don’t look away. I hold his gaze and let him see I’m not backing down. I can see the denial forming. The lazy joke or insult. The easy escape hatch. Then he looks toward him. Rafe's laughing at something Kasia said.

“Circumstance,” he says. “Timing.” His gaze drops into his drink. “He’d already commandeered Cupid’s fucking arrow before I’d even had my first kiss.”

He turns the glass slowly between his hands.

“He smiled at me once. Just once.” His voice shakes now, no matter how hard he tries to bury it. “Some asshole knocked my books out of my hands at school, and Rafe stopped to help me pick them up. That was it.”

He laughs under his breath, but there’s nothing amused in it.

“Pathetic, right?”

“No, I get it. Kindness is hot.”

His mouth twists. “Don’t be nice. It makes me itchy.”

“I’m not trying to be nice, I'm just being honest.”

He breathes out through his nose. “From then on, nothing else compared. I guess I’ve just been waiting for someone to smile at me like that again. To feel that again.”

Something in me breaks a little. Because I know that feeling. I know what it's like to have someone look at you once and ruin the lighting in every room afterward. Rithy reaches for another drink from another passing tray, because emotional honesty demands alcohol support. He swaps his empty glass for a full one and, with absurd grace, manages to get me one too.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this shit,” he mutters. “I still hate your sister.”

A laugh bursts out of me. “Me too, half the time.”

His brows lift. I take the fresh champagne and stare out at the party. At Kasia, beautiful and composed and so beloved. At Rafe, bending toward her, unable to even stay an inch away from her.

“She’s the ideal daughter,” I say. “I’m the unemployed disappointment.”

Rithy stills. Then he slowly turns his head and looks me over, eyes dragging across the length of me. Not in the Kiri way, there's no heat in it. He's assessing me, carefully, like he's reading a label and can't decide if it's a bottle of poison or vodka.

“Oh,” he says. “You’re the disappointment?”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked.”

“No, no.” He takes a long sip, never looking away. “Now I know all I need to know about your family.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

“It means the standards are so high even God would find it hard not to get disowned.”

The laugh catches in my throat because it is too close to the truth. Rithy lifts his glass, eyes gleaming again, but there's still something bruised under it.

“Makes sense why Rafe is so into Kasia,” he says. “Constantly chasing perfection.”

I look at my sister again. I love her. I do. I love her so much it's sometimes indistinguishable from resentment.

“She's actually perfect,” I say.

“No one is perfect.”