Page 21 of Under the Lies

Noah won.

And he’s cashing in on it now.

A favor disguised as a dare.

“No,” I whisper as we stand on the roof of the building. “I’m not doing this.”

Standing a few paces behind me, Noah is unfazed by my refusal. Letting me deny, deny, deny while he watches with his hands in his pant pockets.

Of course he’s relaxed. He’s all cool, calm, and collected in his comfortable position of being the winner.

After showing his hand of twenty-one, Noah gave me the piece of paper he wrote on. Then he reached for mine. I tried to snatch it back but he swiftly put it in his pant pocket. I wasn’t bold enough to retrieve it.

“Heard you the first twenty-five times, but really, it was this time that has made your point perfectly clear.”

I shoot him a nasty glare.

Noah speaks four languages, his most fluent?

Sarcasm.

The cherry on top of his asshole.

He glares back.

We’re locked in a stalemate until Noah grows bored and marches over to me, grabbing my arm and guides me to the roof’s ledge.

“Dance,” he instructs, low and commanding. Dark as the night with no stars in the sky.

He brought me up here and wants me to dance on the building’s ledge. He wants me to dance on the edge of the roof.

The thought alone has my muscles seizing.

“Sayer,” Noah calls when I don’t move.

“Stop talking, Noah.”

He raises a brow. Not happy.

A small, sassy smile pulls at my mouth as I see him clench and unclench his hands.

Getting under Noah’s skin is quickly becoming my new favorite hobby.

“Get up there, Sayer.”

I shake my head, the smile growing, aware that I’m walking a thin line taunting the king of the city. I can’t stop though. It might not be under my touch, but it’s liberating watching Noah come undone before me.

“It is an honor, you know. To play against one of us. You saw the crowd downstairs, they would love to lose to me. Be up here with me.”

“So go grab one of them.” I cross my arms, partly in defiance, partly for warmth. It’s freezing tonight and here we are without our coats.

“Can’t do that, Baby Brooks,” he taunts, not at all bothered by the cold.

“And why not?”

“Because I enjoy your company more.” He takes a step toward me. “How you try and fight me.” Another step. And another, until he’s right here in front of me. “It’s cute that you think you can win against me.”

I don’t remind him I already lost because I don’t think he’s talking about the poker game. There’s so much heat in his features, something wild in his eyes. A chill unrelated to the cold goes down my spine.

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