Page 47 of Under the Lies

“Touching me.” Curse alcohol gods for making my tongue so loose.

Noah enjoys it if his smirk is any indication.

A noise vibrates in the back of my throat. “Stop smirking.”

His smirk grows.

My fingers curl at my sides. I want to slap it off but that would require getting close to him and that’s not going to happen.

No more falling under his snare trap.

“Is it bothering you?”

“Your face bothers me in general.” I’m a twenty-four-year-old reduced to playground tactics.

He laughs, unbothered and amused as he watches me shift from foot to foot trying to find warmth in this freezing cold.

I study him. My favorite piece of art to observe.

Aside from how laughter makes his features look less pissed, I notice how much tension has seeped out of his muscles since we’ve been up here. His rendezvous with the tattooed redhead forgotten.

Until I ruin it. “Who’s Seamus?”

In a snap, his shoulders pull taut. “No one you need to concern your pretty little head with.”

My fists clench tighter at his condescending tone. He’s using it to distract me, so I go off on him instead of focusing on what he’s not saying. It’s not going to work. Not this time. I focus on the unspoken words.

“Does he have anything to do with my sister?”

“No.” Sharp. Cold.

“Then why was he here?”

“It doesn’t pertain to our situation, so you don’t have to worry about it.” His hands slip into his pant pockets.

But I am. “You were pissed when you came back.”

“I’m pissed all the time.”

I tilt my head. “Why?”

“Why what? Why am I pissed?” He steps toward me. “Why does anyone feel anything? Basic human emotion, Sayer.”

“Is this your way of telling me you feel things? That you actually have a heart and aren’t some robot?”

More distance is erased between us. I refuse to back up, choosing to hold my ground. Noah doesn’t get to intimidate me.

“Yes, Sayer, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Behind his glasses, his eyes darken. “I’m feeling a lot right now, for example.”

My throat constricts, it’s hard to swallow. I want to ask him what he’s feeling, but I’m not ready to open that can of worms. “Then why did Seamus make you so angry?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know you!” I yell. “Because if I’m stuck with you for however long we’re together, I want to know the man and not the shadow.”

Silence settles between us.

I don’t think he’s going to answer, so I turn around and start to walk to the door, the buzz from my drinks has thoroughly worn off at this point and I’m freezing. I have it cracked open when his voice stops me.

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