Page 96 of Under the Lies

With a smirk, I lean forward. My breath hitting the back of her neck as I take out one of the buds. The minute my fingers brush against her skin, Sayer screams.

Twisting around, she smacks my arm.

Her eyes widen when she sees that it’s me. But only for less than a second before they turn into a glare.

“Asshole!” She hits me again. “You don’t sneak up on people!”

“I didn’t sneak up.” I hold up her headphone. “You would’ve heard me if you weren’t causing damage to your eardrums.”

Her glare narrows. “Do I tell you how to listen to your music? No. So don’t question mine.” She tries to grab the bud from me, but I close my palm around it. Keeping it from her. “Noah. Give it back.”

“What if I want to listen too? I could love this song.”

“Do you love this song?”

I do, actually. But I don’t admit that. Our shared music tastes are just one of the surprises.

Instead, I give her the smirk that I know gets her riled up.

Only this time…it doesn’t.

She turns away from me, returning back to her computer screen. “I made dinner earlier. There’s a plate for you in the fridge.”

An uncomfortable pang fills the hollow of my chest. Something in her voice reaches past my cold exterior, grabbing me around the lungs. She cooked me dinner?

When was the last time someone cooked for me? Took care of me? Did something for me without expecting anything in return?

Never.

Dumbfounded, I stare at her backside.

Not since Sayer.

She’s a breath of fresh air in my toxic world. The nice to my not, the warm to my cold. She makes me feel things I wish she wouldn’t which is why I shove my foot into my mouth. “Going domestic on me now?”

She bristles, slowly turning around to face me again. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, we had sex one time last night and now you’re making me dinner. What do you think this is?” They shouldn’t, but each word tastes like ash on my tongue.

I see the words branded into her eyes. Asshole.

The look is a punch I can’t block and almost knocks me over. I hate that I put that sad, hurt look in her eyes but I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to be a sweet man.

But for her, I’m willing to try.

“It’s called being nice, Noah. It wasn’t meant to be taken as anything but that. You know what…” She gives me a look of hatred as she slides off the stool, shouldering past me on her way through the kitchen.

Her steps are angry, purposeful, as she stomps to the refrigerator, yanking open the door and snatching a plate with plastic wrap around it.

I lean against the bar with my arms crossed, watching her huff and puff and drop the plate, literally dropping it, onto my black marble countertop, not caring if the ceramic dish shattered on impact.

Sayer tears off the plastic wrap, ripping it into stretched out shreds. Some pieces fall to the floor and I rub my jaw. And she throws the plate into the microwave too fast for me to see what she actually made.

She looks at me with fierce eyes. “I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“This isn’t for you, you ungrateful ass.”

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