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“Sure, let’s get started.”

Inhale. Exhale. Smile.

Chapter 23

Phoenix

The fascinating thing about Lia is that you can see exactly when a switch flips inside her. She shuts off her feelings from the world and turns herself into the girl she pretends to be but really isn’t. You can see it if you know what to look for. A barely noticeable tension in her shoulders, straight posture, chin lifted slightly. An open gaze, a friendly smile—neither of which is genuine.

Nothing about her is real anymore. And that’s a problem, because we can’t work like this. I don’t even need to look at the notes I took during my conversation with Pearson after Lia left. His plan is useless. Not fundamentally, just for us in particular. Because Lia and I are not strangers, not the way he thinks.

She hesitates briefly before putting on her ballet slippers and beginning her warm-up exercises for the second time today. She doesn’t need them; her muscles should still be warm from this morning.

I stand there with my arms crossed over my chest and wait. I already used the last fifteen minutes of the break to warm up. After talking to Pearson, I was useless for anything else anyway.

The music I picked out earlier is the only thing filling the silence between us. It’s not even remotely related to Swan Lake. Lia’s problem isn’t the music, and it isn’t the steps either. I’m quite sure she’ll be able to master the choreography in no time if she ever manages to allow herself to feel something. But getting to that point will be difficult. Damn difficult.

“How are you?” I ask when the silence between us becomes awkward. And immediately wish I could take the question back. She won’t give me an honest answer anyway. But we have to start somewhere, right?

Lia’s mouth twists into a fake smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine, thank you.”

I roll my eyes, and before I can stop myself, I’m already walking toward her. She’s standing by the barre under one of the round windows. Bright rays of sunlight stream through the glass, catching in her hair and setting the gold ablaze. “Now, let’s try that again. How are you?”

It’s a simple question that demands a less-than-simple answer, and I think we both know that. Her smile slips a fraction of an inch, barely noticeable, but I notice it anyway.

“I’m fine,” she repeats.

I stand in front of her, just far enough away that we wouldn’t be able to touch if one of us reached out. If we both did . . . well, then things would be different. But keeping more distance would be ridiculous and would imply that I have a problem with being too close to her. Which isn’t the case.

My heart pounds in protest against my ribs, laughing at me. I ignore it.

“Try again, without lying to me.” I watch her face intently, observing every tiny movement, the flicker in her eyes, the barely perceptible tightening of her full lips.

“I’m not lying to you.” She lifts her chin, and the defiance in her voice is unmistakable.

I have to fight back a satisfied smile. It’s surprisingly easy to get her to come out of her shell.

What the hell do you think you’re doing? The voice in my head sounds suspiciously like my brother’s, and it’s pretty pissed off. I ignore it because I don’t even know the answer to that myself.

“Hmm. I think you are.”

“Why would I lie?” she asks defiantly, and maybe I actually do know what I’m doing, because that’s what I’m looking for, some kind of reaction. A real reaction, not the fake friendliness she runs around with all day. We’re not here so she can keep trying to be perfect. I need to get her to just be herself.

The only question is whether I’m the right person for the job.

My heart shouts yes, my mind shouts no.

“Tell me,” I say in spite of it all, because there’s no turning back now. Not today. Our lesson has begun, probably differently than Pearson imagined or Lia expected. But there’s only one way this is going to work.

A crease forms between her arched eyebrows, and her hand twitches to her neck, toward the necklace that’s no longer there. She betrays herself so often that I wonder how no one can notice. Or does no one care that she’s deceiving everyone, including herself?

“I can’t tell you anything, because I’m not lying to you.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how I see it, Ophelia.”

Her name is a weak spot for her, it always has been. She blushes. Fuck. I forgot how beautiful she is when she loses her composure. Heat rushes to her cheeks—and through my whole body as well. Shit.

“That’s your problem,” she says sharply, and I almost have to grin. But only almost, because my skin is tingling and everything is already getting out of control, and nothing is going as planned. Not that I had a sensible plan to begin with.