Page 109 of Loving the Liar

“—make mistakes when you think they’re worth it,” I cut him off. “I remember that night like it was yesterday.”

“Fuck, Ella,” he huffs, running a hand at the back of his neck. “I knew you would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

When my eyes widen from shock, he adds, “Not because of your brother. Not because of the consequences of dating you.” He licks his lips, his eyes on mine. “I knew you would be a mistake because you would never give me my heart back if I offered it to you. And look at what you did. You stole it, you kept it to yourself. You became the only person it could beat for.”

This vulnerable side of him is the hardest to resist. Harder than lust and memories of us. Because it’s him now telling me the things I’ve been longing to hear.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze roaming over my face and stopping on my eyes. “Now you don’t want me. You hate me. You think I’m a coward. Now you swear you won’t give me a second chance, and look at me…I still don’t want my heart back. Because I know its rightful place is in the palm of your hand.”

There’s nothing but the sound of my staggered breathing. He leans closer, but I put a hand on his cheek to stop him.

“Ella,” he rasps. “You know I’ve always had two sides of me. I’m sorry about the person that comes out when I can’t have you. It’s dangerous. But it doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do absolutely anything for you.”

My heart beats painfully, oscillating between giving in and knowing I could regret it more than anything I ever have.

I push the curls away from his forehead, and our lips hover close when I speak.

“It isn’t about the two sides of you, Chris. I’ve known about that since I’ve known you, and I accepted it when we were together. But I can’t erase the last five years. I can’t forget the heartbreak and the sadness. That you chose Luke over me. And that you left. Those things don’t just go away, and especially not when you come back with a girlfriend. I don’t know who you are anymore, and I might not understand your relationship—or deal—with Megan, but what I know is that man you are for the Circle isn’t the man I loved.”

His eyes won’t leave mine, and I could swear I see the very definition of regret in them. It feels like an eternity before he opens up some more.

“The man I’ve become from the pressure and the suffering isn’t who I want to be. I want to be the person I was with you. Just like I know you’re not the whiny queen bee you’re showing to everyone. I know the real Ella. The empathetic girl, who cares about the people around her. The one who has feelings and doesn’t care whether her reputation is intact or not. My Ella is so beautiful inside and out it radiates on the rainiest days. I know who you are, and you know who I am. The masks we put on to survive shouldn’t fool the ones who truly love us. And I truly l?—”

“Don’t say it.”

He nods. “I understand why you don’t want to hear it, but it doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Chris,” I rasp, barely breathing. I know this is going to hurt, but I can’t keep it to myself. “I don’t want to know the man I gave my all to and who abandoned me loves me. Because if you truly did, you wouldn’t be with her.”

This is what makes him pull away. The hurt in his eyes breaks me, but I can’t deny the truth. He’s already doing that.

“One of us has to be realistic,” I admit painfully. “This is beautiful, honest, but it’s bittersweet. Once it’s over, you’ll go back to her, and I’ll be alone again. We can enjoy it while it lasts, but it won’t last forever.”

Turning away, he scratches his throat, and I don’t have to see his face or his thoughts to know this is hard. I feel it too. The pull between us feels like it will never go away, never die. It’s so strong it feels inevitable, yet it’s not the reality of our situation. And that hurts like nothing else.

He runs a hand across his face and looks at me again. “Dance for me.”

“Dance?”

Showing me the way his face lights up when he talks about me, he smiles. “We’re in a dance studio, aren’t we? Please.”

He’s beautiful, vulnerable, exactly the man I know he is for me. So I smile in return, unable to hold back how content I truly am with him. “Okay.”

I stand up, stretching my arms, and then my legs. “Pick a song. And you’ll have to excuse that I’m dressed in jeans and sneakers.”

He pulls out his phone, stands up, and plugs it into the speakers. “Lucky me, your talent doesn’t depend on your clothes.”

Going to the bar, I use it to stretch my spine and legs again. I startle when the first note of “The Scientist” by Coldplay resonate in the room. My heart squeezes, but I don’t look at him. It would be too hard to look at him. Instead, I dance.

I go through whatever my body tells me. I become an instrument for the song. I straighten my spine, roll back my shoulders. I hold my head high and do a grand jeté across the room. I almost forget where I am and start pirouetting. The same movements I couldn’t do a few weeks ago become as easy as breathing. I twirl, losing myself in the music and losing count of how many I do until two hands grab my waist, pull me closer, and lift me off the floor.

He lifts me so high, the tips of my fingers barely graze his shoulders, and he holds me tightly against him as he slowly brings me down.

I know where this ends, but still, I let him touch me, heart beating crazily in anticipation. My stomach drags against his chest as every single sensation creates a burning need inside me. His strong arms don’t struggle for one second, taking all my weight until I’m right above his face, and in the next second, our mouths are nearly brushing.

Neither of us speaks. He waits. Our eyes searching the other’s. Breaths mingling. The seconds elongate into a magical moment…and I’m the first to break.

My lips crash against his, and I hear him moan. Probably with a mix of surprise and joy. He holds me tighter, fingertips digging into my skin as he turns the kiss ravenous.

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