Page 43 of The Liar's Reckoning

“Do you really want it to be like this?”

Ithasto be like this. I’m moving on. I’ve practically written my new life story. He shouldn’t even rate a footnote.

“You won’t even look at me?” Silas asks, sounding as put out with me as ever. The way he speaks to me makes my blood heat—and I wish that meant it makes me angry, but it’s not anger I feel when he’s standing this close—touching me.

I keep my eyes trained on his hand. His olive tan against my slightly paler arm. His proximity is…

He’s too close. My skin tingles with a nearly overwhelming need to be closer. I press harder on the bar to open the door.

He tightens his grip. “Do I owe you an apology or something?” he asks softly.

“No.”

“Then why are you ghosting?”

Because I hate myself enough without watching someone hate me back.“I have an errand I need to run.” Which I don’t remember anymore. My mind is whited out. Nothing but static with a heartbeat.

“You’re on your own again tonight?”

What?What is this? Are we having a conversation? I turn a glare his way, and it hits him dead on. In it, I pour all the haughty condescension I learned from my upbringing, and in no small part at Harvard, too.

His lips part, looking vaguely surprised. And then he frowns in confusion. “What?”

“Let go of me.”

“I can tell I pissed you off—do you mind explaining why?”

“I do mind,” I say in the firmest tone I can manage.

“You really don’t like to be teased, do you?”

“Teasing? That’s what that was?”

He shifts and lets go of my arm. “Maybe I read the situation wrong.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about. I sigh heavily and make a choice to engage with whatever this is. “What does that mean?”

“Forget it.”

“Silas, do you half ass everything the way you half ass dealing with me?”

His gaze narrows. “That’s a shitty question.”

“You’re an asshole,” I say, all in. “Bad fucking luck we have to keep running into each other, but we don’t have to know each other. Leave me alone, and I’ll return the favor. Deal?”

“What? Wait…”

I press open the door, but it doesn’t close quick enough for him not to follow me onto the sidewalk. “It doesn’t need to be like this,” he says.

“I’ve got nothing to offer you.”

“I respectfully disagree.”

“Then what? What can I do for you? You’ve got my attention.”

I swear he squirms. “You’re right. Maybe now’s not the time.”

“Fuck,” I bite out, turning my back on him and bolting down the sidewalk, no clue where I’m headed.

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