Page 42 of Playing Pretend

She keeps trudging toward the building, her gaze downcast, her face red.

“I said,stop.” It’s a warning. A harsh snap as I jog around the pool.

She slows, taking another few steps before planting her feet.

I catch up, briefly skimming my fingers over her arm. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She pulls away, her face scrunching with the lie. “I just want to get out of here.”

“And let him win?” I move in front of her, blocking her path. “Fuck that. We’re going for a swim. It’ll help cool—”

“No. I want to go to the room.” She side-steps around me.

“You want to hide.” I grab her wrist. “And I’m not letting that happen.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I bet you’ve never been accused—in public—of being horrible in bed.”

I’m going to fucking kill that asshole.

“He’s right though.” Her voice breaks. “Everything he said is true.”

“Bullshit.” I step closer, inching in so we’re almost nose to nose. “There’s nothing cold about you.”

She glowers. “How would you know?”

“Because when we kiss you burn hot.”

She sucks in a breath, her shock increasing my pulse for more favorable reasons.

“Get in the pool, Piper.”

“No.” She yanks her arm away.

“Get in the goddamn pool,” I growl.

She’s going to storm off. Run. I shouldn’t crave the chase, but I do.

“I dare you to flee,” I taunt. “Attempt to hightail it out of here and see how far it gets you. I’ll have you over my shoulder before you’ve made your third step.”

She backtracks, her eyes pleading for sympathy. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s filled your head with shit that isn’t true. You want to run from something that isn’t there. Something that isn’t real.”

She scoffs and looks away.

“Get in the pool and I’ll prove it to you.”

Her intoxicated gaze snaps back to mine. “How?”

“Get in and I’ll show you.”

“How could you possibly—”

“Get in the goddamn pool or I’m going to throw you in there.”

She glares, her usually hibernating temper waking from a long slumber. We don’t get angry with one another. We might play pretend to prove a point. Act catty to win a verbal sparring match. But actual anger—real,heartfelt madness—is rare.

“Fine.” Her voice breaks again, the fracture killing me.

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