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“Can I ask you something?” I look up from my laptop to where Ant is sitting on the couch just a couple feet from me, watching a rerun of some old war show.
“Anything.” He grins, shifting his body inward to face me.
“Do you consider me a friend?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?” he chuckles, gently knocking his foot against my shin.
“I mean, do you see me as someone you can tell anything to?” I try a different tactic.
I know I can’t outright ask him what I learned from Tess earlier today, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to get him to tell me on his own.
I can’t pretend that the fact that I had to learn it from Tess, to begin with, didn’t hurt—it did. Oddly it felt almost like a betrayal which, I know, makes zero sense. There are so many things I haven’t told him over the years.
“I’d like to think so, yes. Why? Where is this coming from?”
“Just curious.” I shrug.
“You’re a shit liar, Kingsley.” He shakes his head at me.
“Why do people always say that to me?” I fake offense. “I could be a master liar for all you know. Maybe I only pretend to be a bad liar so you don’t catch on.”
“Hmm.” He thinks on this for a moment. “So should I be worried that you’re really a serial killer who has lured me here under false pretenses, and just when I let my guard down will go in for the kill.”
“I can’t say one way or the other.” I play coy.
“And you’ll probably grind up my remains and serve me as dinner to all your friends.”
“Anthony Meatloaf. My favorite.” I wiggle my eyebrows playfully.
“My God, where has this conversation gone?” he laughs, pointing out what we’re both clearly thinking.
“I have no idea,” I laugh in agreement.
“What about you? Do you see me as the type of friend you can tell anything to?” He turns the tables on me, returning to the conversation at hand.
“I think so.”
“Says the girl who has so many secrets tucked away in that pretty little head of hers it’s a wonder they aren’t coming out of her ears.”
“Huh?” I laugh, finding his choice of words a little curious.
“You know what I mean,” he chuckles. “You’re a vault, Kingsley. Always have been. Shit liar. Good at keeping secrets.”
“That makes no sense.”
“How does it not?”
“Doesn’t lying and keeping secrets kind of go hand in hand?” I question.
“To an extent, maybe. But you’re nothing if not a walking contradiction.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I lay a smack to his bicep.
“It means whatever you think it means.”
“You’re impossible.” I sigh, closing my laptop before dropping it on the coffee table in front of me.
“And you’re not?”
