Page 79 of Fault Line

“Liz ...”

“What?” she spits out, her posture defensive now. “You gonna judge me for that, too?”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “You know what, let’s just forget it. I’ll stay over at Holden’s place from now on.”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I parrot back.

Sure, Lizzie and I have had our differences in the past, but I was hopeful that we were making progress toward a better relationship. I guess things haven’t changed as much as I thought. I understand that we may not be BFFs, but I still value our living arrangement.

I find comfort in having my own space, with my own sleep aids and well-established routine. But I’m willing to make an exception and spend the night at Holden’s place instead, especially if it means avoiding any future conflicts. I’d rather not fight over useless shit like this.

It spikes the anxiety, the compulsions, that I’m already struggling to keep at bay.

* * *

Later that night,as Holden and I head inside a local diner—an old Boyer haunt—my heart is pounding. I’m jittery, my foot tapping up and down, stomach full of knots. I’ve been so distracted by my nerves that the two of us barely spoke a word to each other during the entire drive here.

I’m anxious about this dinner, about seeing Sofia again and introducing her to Holden. She’s always been so critical of my choices and my life, and I don’t want her to judge him too harshly.

We slide into a booth side by side, waiting for them to arrive. I lean against Holden’s bicep and breathe deeply, but my legs are still shaking. He places a comforting hand over my knee.

“Hey,” he whispers in my ear, his voice low.

“Hey,” I breathe back.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Don’t want to talk about it,” I murmur, immediately changing the subject. “But ... there is something else I need to talk to you about.”

“Go on.”

“I spoke to Lizzie this morning. Since you’ve been staying the night, she wants you to pay a portion of our rent.”

He leans back in the booth, slinging a casual arm over my shoulder. “Huh.”

“Isn’t that fucking ridiculous?” I lean my head against his arm. “I told her I’d just stay over at your house instead.”

“Well, how much is your rent?”

I cock my head to the side, giving him a quizzical look. “Eighteen hundred bucks a month, why?”

“I could just pay the whole thing. Get her off your back.”

“Stop.”

He shoots me a mischievous smile. “I’d love to be your sugar daddy, Karras.”

“Oh, gross,” I groan, unable to suppress a full-body shudder.

Just then, our guests of honor stroll inside. Sofia’s dressed in an expensive outfit, her dark waves styled to perfection, and Andrew’s there beside her in a tailored suit. They both look out of place in this small, homestyle diner, but they don’t seem to notice or care about it.

They make their way over to us, fake smiles plastered on both their faces. “Hey, you two,” Sofia greets us, her voice sickly sweet.

“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. Carefree. I need to approach this with an open mind, after all. To make an effort toward reconciliation.

Andrew slides into the booth across from us without so much as a word, his eyes scanning the menu. “So, what’s good here?” he asks, tone dismissive.

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