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“What?” I whisper.
He takes my face in with his molten eyes. “I kissed you back, didn’t I? Why did you think I did that?”
“I don’t… I didn’t…”
Think.
I didn’t think why. Not for him and not for me.
I’ve pushed it down, pushed it aside, the kiss.
Because there’s nothing to think about anyway.
He’s my ex-boyfriend’s ex-best friend.
And I’m his ex-best friend’s ex-girlfriend.
But before I can tell him that, he goes, “I did that. Because I wanted to. Because I have a thing. For you.”
“B-but that’s…”
“A very big thing.”
“You’re lying.”
He’s lying.
Isn’t he?
He has to be.
It doesn’t make sense. It’s bizarre. It’s absurd.
It’s like his protecting thing from a few days ago.
Except this is even more of a fiction than him trying to protect me.
Me.
The servant girl.
It doesn’t…
“I wish.”
“You…” I can barely think, let alone make words. “You were always so…”
“Horrible to you.”
“Yes.” Then, to prove my point, I repeat, “Yes!”
Horrible. Awful. Hateful.
His lips turn up in a small,sadsmile. “Part of my charm. And partly a consequence of wanting your best friend’s girl when you shouldn’t.”
My whole body winces.
My muscles spasm. My heart spasms.
