Page 6 of A Smile Full of Lies
Sometimes I wondered if I was the reason they stopped speaking, if I was what broke them. Whatever happened between them after that night at the frat house — after everything went to hell — it had been final. Silent. And deep in my gut, I couldn’t help but feel like I was the crack in the foundation of their friendship.
Even now, I wished I didn’t want him. I wished I could look at Knox and just see a friend. A lifeline. Something simple. But I couldn’t. I never could. There was always this magnetic pull — twisted and hungry and impossible to ignore. It scared the hell out of me, because wanting Knox meant stepping into somethingI couldn’t control, something messy and tangled and maybe even selfish.
But no matter how many walls I built around it, no matter how many times I tried to shove that part of me down, it was still there, always reaching for him.
But I’d be damned if I’d let myself have any of the things I wanted with Philip fucking Knox. The prospect was too terrifying, so I’d keep building walls, keep shoving my feelings down into neat little boxes with the lids nailed shut and pretending they didn’t exist.
Knox stepped inside, calm and effortless as always, his arms full of brown paper bags of groceries. He moved like he had all the time in the world, with an unhurried grace that made it feel like nothing could shake him. His broad shoulders and lean muscle filled out his t-shirt in a way that seemed downright unfair, the sleeves just tight enough to hint at the strength beneath. Against my will, my gaze swept over him from head to toe. His golden hair, slightly messy like he’d just run his hands through it, framed sharp blue eyes that cut straight through me. He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, or maybe in an action movie, but somehow, standing in my kitchen with groceries in his arms, he looked even better.
“Hey, neighbor.”
His deep voice was a soft, warm rumble that slid over my skin like a caress as he strode through the foyer into the kitchen. He set the bags on the counter, his gaze sweeping over my half-closed laptop before settling on me.
He crossed the short distance between us and handed me my mail without saying a word about the final notices stamped inred. He didn’t flinch at the late fees or the collection threats. No, he just handed them over like it was no big deal, pretending he didn’t see the wreckage of my life spelled out in overdue envelopes.
That’s another reason I never pushed him away. He never made me feel small for falling apart.
My chest tightened, the weight of him — of everything — pressing too close.
“Hey, Knox.”
The air in the house felt too warm. My t-shirt clung to my skin, damp and stretched tight across the curve of my lower back. The blinds were half-closed, slicing the golden light into uneven stripes across the floor. Somewhere outside, a lawnmower buzzed in the distance. The fridge hummed. But the longer I stared at Knox, the louder the pounding of my heart sounded in my ears.
Knox stood close to me… too damn close. He smelled like clean soap and heady cologne, the kind that always lingered in my space even after he was gone. He pulled a cool bottle of water from one of the grocery bags and set it down in front of me. His hand brushed mine, the contact brief but enough to send a sharp jolt of electricity down my spine.
My breath hitched. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, sinking through my shirt and warming my skin. His gaze tracked the rise and fall of my chest before lifting to my face, his intense blue eyes unblinking as his stare bored into me. My pulse hammered so hard I was sure he could hear it.
“Drink,” Knox said, his voice low and steady.
My fingers curled around the cool bottle, my body responding to the command before my brain could catch up. His gaze darkened. He didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in closer, his body barely brushing against mine as he reached for another bag.
I swallowed hard and twisted the cap off the bottle, taking a shaky sip.
My body screamed for more contact, but my mind? My mind was already building walls because I wanted him so badly I could taste it, and I couldn’t afford to want Knox.
I didn’t do commitment, hadn’t done anything more than the occasional one night stand in four years, and Knox? Knox didn’t strike me as the type who’d accept anything less than me offering to bind our souls together for all eternity. He radiated intensity. Me? My life was casual and uncomplicated, and I’d fought hard to keep it that way ever since Thayer broke my heart.
“You need to eat.” Knox’s voice was laced with that infuriating kind of calm that made my skin prickle.
A wild, irrational part of me wanted to throw a tantrum just to make a point. I wanted to stamp my feet, get right in his face, and tell him he wasn’t the boss of me, but apparently my damn fool body disagreed.
My jaw tightened as I spoke through gritted teeth.
“I’m not hungry.”
Knox didn’t flinch. He just watched me — quiet, unreadable, like he could see through every lie ever told, even the ones I hadn’t told yet. His gaze flicked to the bottle of water I’d already takena sip from. Without a word, he pushed it closer, his knuckles brushing mine. A spark jumped beneath my skin.
His gaze shifted to my half-closed laptop.
“Work?”
My throat went dry.
“It’s nothing.”
Knox didn’t blink. He didn’t call me out — but he didn’t look away, either. He just kept watching me, silently daring me to make the next move.
Shit. He definitely knows I’m lying to him, or being evasive at the very least.
