Page 38 of Deranged Imposter

“Too much work,” he utters, sneering at the med school pamphlet.

He probably means it reminds him of his father, whom he doesn’t have an easy relationship with.

I move off the desk and walk toward the nightstand, where a framed picture is pressed down. I lift it and smile fondly at the photo of us three.

I scoff, tracing the frame. “And being a lawyer is a walk in the park.”

“I can handle it,” his voice purrs from behind, a hand gripping the side of my waist to keep me from straying.

“How will you travel and finish your studies at the same time?”

Law school is a nightmare to some, and the intensity caused him plenty of stressful days. I can’t imagine the way he’ll pull this off if he set his mind on traveling immediately.

“I can find jobs.” His confidence is strangely comforting, but I’m slightly worried about his plan.

I shake my head and turn around to press a hand over his chest. “Your work will go down the drain.”

“Are you saying I can’t support you?” Mikah scorns roguishly, the corner of his lips twitching as he dwells over my frantic rebuff. “That you won’t get luxuries anymore?”

“Why do you think I stuck by you?” I retort, coyly tracing an arrow above his heart. “I’m waiting for your pot of gold to wring your riches dry.”

He has a massive trust fund with constant money flowing in, on the condition that he gives his family fantastic academic results. He’s lucky. I have nothing in my name, so if I want to get a job, I’ll need to bullshit something on my résumé.

Telling hiring managers about the unconventional situation with Mikah and his family would take the whole day.

“My mother was right. You are a vase,” he jibes.

Mrs. Masini is a gem. Not only is she a superwoman with a family and an established businessman in a niche category, but she also has the time and energy to be an amazing actress. Sometimes I wonder if she has a twin or a clone.

“Yet you still dote on me,” I dig with a victorious grin. “Your mom is right about a lot of things, like spending quality time and actually listening. Girls are meant to be spoiled and taken care of.”

“You assume I don’t.”

Mikah’s smiling more. The suit no longer resembles a choking snare, trapping his thoughts in the threads and forcing the seams to crush his hope of leaning on me for help.

“Less materialistically, more from the heart.” I click my tongue and swat at his rumbling chest.

He cocks his head with a provoking smirk. “I’ve been neglecting you?”

I tut, my brows twitching as my lips press into a white line. “Ever since you bought that silly,mediocre-lookinghourglass, you’ve been so busy staring at it.”

“My new love,” he quips, marking gentle strokes on my hip before roaming to the small of my back.

We joke, banter, and get lost in our own world. His awareness of boundary insight is not his forte, leaving me to scourge the pieces of our friendship and put them back where they should belong.

Futile efforts: he’s constantly breaking unspoken rules, forcibly dragging me farther away from the friendship to tread on dangerous territory.

“What about your old love?” It’s meant to be a light, flippant turn of the topic.

“Right here,” he proclaims.

He has a nasty habit of making my heart become an exploding supernova.

He holds me like he’s going to lose me and experience a devastating loss one after another. His arms curl around my shoulders and waist, pressing me closer to have my heart latch onto his tempo. Placing featherlight kisses on the crown of my head, he sighs my name with undying adoration.

I wish I weren’t so good at avoidance.

“Why?”

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