Page 35 of One Twisted Lie

I wait with bated breath for his answer. Hopefully, I didn’t just make a complete fool of myself.

“Yeah…I miss you. Same here.”I chuckle at how strained he sounds.“Oh, fuck off.”

“What’s going on with you?” I ask, sparing him any further embarrassment. I move from my desk to my king-size bed, flopping down in the center on my back. “How’s the break been?”

“Eh, like it normally is. You?”

“It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

“No.” I look at my forgotten laptop on my desk, the array of numbers teasing me, the blinking light in the corner giving me a headache. “That’s a lie.”

“Are you still working?”he asks, almost demandingly.“You need a break, babe.”

I know I do. I know that I’ve been obsessing about this thing for way too long, wringing myself dry, but I have to do this. “I’ll take a break when I’m done.” I cough, wanting to change the subject. “Yo, what about that shit that went down last night?”

“At Daniel’s fucking engagement dinner? First, thanks for the fucking invite.”

“Right? I’m just glad Magnus finally stood up for himself.”

“I’m glad they’re together again. Daniel was miserable.”

It was honestly so terribly brutal to see. I always thought Daniel and Magnus were too codependent for their own good. Daniel was like a shell of himself without Mag—empty and hollow. Like a little plastic toy abandoned by its owner.

Okay. That sounds bad.

“So was Mag,” I point out.

“Fuck him,”Oz snarls.“It was his fault in the first place.”

“There’s my princess. A royal dick who doesn’t know the meaning of empathy.”

There’s a long pause.“Right. Sorry.”

He doesn’t sound it all. “No, you’re not, but it’s okay.”

There’s a soft laugh from his end that makes my heart stutter. I know exactly what Oz looks like when he laughs like that and—surprisingly—it’s become one of my favorite looks from him, even beating his cum-drunk smile and lazy smirk.

It’s the laugh-wrinkled dark eyes, the endearing scrunch of his nose, and the hesitant tip to his red lips that gets me. Like he’s blushing because he doesn’t want to be amused. Like he’s fighting against that toxic masculinity bullshit his dad instilled in him. Like he wants to laugh so much his body can’t even fight it.

“Remember when I said that thing about missing you?”

“Yeah. I recorded it for future blackmail.”

“Well, I was thinking I didn’t have to.”

I sit up. “I’m listening.”

“You’re in New York, right?”

“Yeah. So are you.”

I’m not an idiot. I’m aware that we’ve both been in the same city for the break, we even talked about it before we left school. But what we didn’t even broach was whether we were going to make an attempt to see each other. It’s that awkward—what do we do when we’re out of our secret bubble—phase.

“Um, the Central Park Zoo is doing a light show tonight…”He trails off and I almost interrupt him when—“Want to meet up?”

My foolish heart speeds up. I shouldn’t be this excited at just the mere prospect of seeing him. It’s honestly a little ridiculous. Sure, I’ve actually really missed being with him. Hell, I’ve thought about him almost nonstop. But control is not acting on your whims. Control is keeping messy emotions in check. Control is knowing I should stay here working instead of galivanting around New York like some regular ass teenager.

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