Page 77 of Inception

“Obviously.”

My eyes narrowed. “This is all your fault anyway. If you would have just answered my question this morning, I wouldn’t have had to ask it again.”

“Did that look like the time or place to you?”

“Then when is? My bedroom in the middle of the night?” I wasn’t sure why but my cheeks flushed just then.

He let out a tired breath and glanced down at his silver watch before meeting my eyes again. “Alright, fine. What do you want to know?”

“Huh?” I hadn’t expected him to concede.

“You have sixty seconds, make it count.”

My mind went blank.

I must have rehearsed a hundred and one different questions since the day I met him and suddenly, when it counted, I couldn’t think of a single one to ask. This was my one chance and I was about to blow it.

And then it happened. In a haze of panic, I blurted out the one thing Ireallydidn’t want to talk about. “Did you beat up those guys from Easton because of me?”

His head jerked back as if stunned by the question. And he wasn’t the only one. Of all the questions I could have asked him,thisis what I went with? What the heck was I thinking? I wholly blamed Taylor for this—for putting it in my head to begin with.

“Is that what you think?” he asked in a mocking tone, though the way he crossed his arms over his chest told me he wasn’t as relaxed as he wanted me to believe.

“That’s not an answer,” I pointed out.

“No, I didn’t beat up anyone over you.” He flexed his jaw muscle and then muttered, “Not really.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Not really?”

“I just didn’t like the way they were talking, that’s all.”

“The way they were talking aboutme?”

“They might have mentioned you. I don’t remember.”

He could plead the fifth all he wanted, I wasn’t buying his nonchalance or sudden amnesia for a minute. “Right, well, you might want to be more careful next time. You’re giving people the wrong impression.”

He took a step towards me, his shoes clipping the tips of mine. “And what impression would that be?”

“You know, the impression that you...like...someone.”

“You think I likeyou?” He placed his hands on the desk behind me and leaned in closer, barricading me inside the space.

A surge of heat rushed through me. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

What am I saying? “I’m saying thatotherpeople might get the wrong impression, you know, other people that aren’t me.” Other people like Taylor, I thought, though I refused to throw her under the bus to prove my point. “Ipersonally couldn’t care less whether you like me or not.” Okay, so that wasn’t entirely the truth but surprisingly, my voice didn’t falter when I said it.

His eyes drifted down to my lips. “I don’t like you.”

“Good,” I said, flustered. “I don’t like you either.”

“Good.” His cobalt eyes—hooded by thick, dark lashes—were still staring down at my mouth.

I suddenly felt lightheaded, like my knees might give out at any moment. The way he was looking at me, at my lips, like he wanted to kiss me. It was making my head spin.

“Stop that.”

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