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“What the fuck is going on with you and my dad?”
I swallow, looking up at him. This is it. This is my chance. I could tell him all of the horrible things that his dad has planned for our lives. I could tell him that his father wants us to get married, and that I don’t have a choice about it. I could say that I’m pretty sure my mom traded me to his family for money so that Harrison’s dad could raise the perfect wife for him.
I could tell him about the weigh-ins.
But Harrison, despite being a playboy and a little bit of a jerk, doesn’t really deserve all of that.
Does he?
Does he really deserve to have his dreams crushed just because I can’t hold my pain together?
It seems cruel, somehow, to let him know just how rough things have been for me. It seems difficult and mean to tell him that his father isn’t exactly honest with him, and so I take the easy way out, and I lie.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. Then I decide to push things away from this topic. “And I don’t know what you mean. Is that seriously what you called me up here for?”
My voice is shaking now. I can’t raise it because neither one of us wants to alert the household that we’re in the attic or that we even know how to access it. There are a couple of entrances to this place, of course, but our bedrooms seem to be the easiest ways in here. There’s also an entrance from one of the upstairs hallways, but I don’t think anyone has ever used that one.
To be honest, I’m not even sure how the furniture that’s up here managed to make its way inside. It seems physically impossible, so I try not to think too hard about it.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s why I called you up here.”
“Well, you’re dumber than I thought,” I say, choking out the words. I don’t want to be a bitch to him, but I need Harrison to dislike me.
I need him to hate me.
I need him to not want me.
If he hates me, then his dad can’t force us together, right?
If he hates me, he won’t feel obligated to enter some sort of weird arranged marriage.
It he hates me...
Then things will be so much easier for me.
“Am I?” He says. His eyes narrow, and he stalks across the attic floor so he’s standing right in front of me. He looks down at me. He’s so close that my breasts are now pushing against his chest, touching him, and I’m completely aware of every inch of our bodies that are rubbing against each other.
Shit.
It’s a good thing he can’t fucking smell my arousal because I’m certain it’s written all over my face. I have to force my lips tightly shut so I don’t fucking moan.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Really? Dumb?”
“Yes,” I whisper, but it comes out breathy and needy, and it’s obvious that I don’t think he’s dumb.
Okay, so I suck at lying, and he knows it. Harrison just shakes his head and reaches for my cheek. To my utter shock, he strokes my skin softly, and then he pushes my hair back behind my ear.
“Oh, sweet Adalee,” he murmurs. “So many secrets. Does it ever get lonely?”
“Does what get lonely?”
“Keeping all of your secrets to yourself,” he says.
“Yes.”
I didn’t mean to be honest. He’s just as shocked by this answer as I am, because he looks at me sharply.
