Page 37 of Fractured Ice

"That's not⁠—"

"Then go ahead and explain it to me."

I open my mouth. The explanation that exists in my head, the real one, the one that starts with I've been in love with you since we were kids and I knew every relationship was going to be casual until I could be with her, so why would I invest in any of it, that explanation sits behind my teeth and will not come out.

"I read your articles," I say instead.

She looks surprised.

"The swim team feature. And the piece you wrote about the track program in the fall." I keep going because she's still looking at me and not at the window. "The line in the swim piece, about how Jade Morrison found her identity in the water before she found it anywhere else. I thought about that line for three days."

Sienna's expression does something complicated.

"You read my articles?" she says.

"Both of them. More than once."

"Why."

"Because they were good." I look at her. "You're one of the best writers in the program, Sienna. Probably the best. The way you find the thing inside someone that they don't know how to say about themselves and then you put it on the page and suddenly it's just… there." I shake my head. "That's not something you learn. You either have it or you don't."

She studies me for a long moment. She's obviously deciding whether something is true or not.

"Are you trying to sleep with me?" she says.

I blink. "What?"

"Sometimes you're a jerk. Other times you turn on the charm. Quote my articles. Tell me I'm talented." She keeps her voice very even. "Is that the pattern? Is that how you get women into bed?"

"No." I'm frustrated now and I'm trying not to be, because frustrated isn't going to help me say the right thing. "That's not what I'm doing."

"Then you don't want to sleep with me?"

"I didn't say that."

There's a pause.

"So you do?"

"Sienna—"

"There's no reason you'd genuinely care about my work," she says. "We've established who you are. I'm never going to sleep with you, so you can stop trying."

I want to tell her she's wrong. I want to tell her that everything she thinks she knows about me is built on the wrong evidence and the conclusion doesn't follow. I want to tell her that I've read every piece she's published since her first semester because she's brilliant and I've known she's brilliant since she was just a kid making an argument at her family's dinner table that left every adult in the room silent.

Knox drops into the seat in front of us and turns around with his arm over the headrest, looking at my face.

"You look terrible," Knox says.

"Helpful. Thanks."

"What's going on back here?" He looks between us as if he’s diagnosing the problem. "We good?"

"We're fine," Sienna says.

"Ethan's doing the face," Knox tells her.

"I’m not⁠—"