Page 69 of Oliver
The words shouldn’t have rattled me, but they did. Oliver at a dive bar? That didn't seem like him.
"He’s meeting some old friends," I lied, forcing confidence into my voice. “He’ll be here soon.”
Ryan's laugh held no humor. "Oh, I bet he will. But in the meantime, here you are, all lonely and begging for attention."
His fingers brushed my arm, but I knew better than to jerk away, knew it would only encourage him. Still, my skin crawledwhere he touched me, a phantom taunt that made my stomach twist.
The bartender returned, setting my drink down harder than necessary. She didn’t move away immediately, wiping down the counter near us. She was listening. She’d sensed something was off, bless her.
"Everything okay here?"
"Fine," Ryan answered for me before I could open my mouth, his smile never reaching his eyes. "Just catching up with an old friend."
I inhaled carefully, keeping my shoulders relaxed.Don’t flinch. Don’t let him see the fear.
But I made eye contact with her, a silent plea to stick around. A minuscule nod, and she was deep cleaning every inch of bar and bottles within five feet of us. And Ryan? He never counted those he saw as beneath him. They were invisible to him.
An invisible shield I’d use against him if necessary.
"So," Ryan continued, leaning closer. "How long are you planning to keep up this charade, Zahra?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please." He chuckled, shaking his head. "You and Beck? It's laughable. We both know he's not your type."
"And what exactly is my type?" I asked before I could stop myself, my voice sharp.
His smile widened.
"Someone who knows how to handle you.” His hand slid from the bar to my knee. I jerked away. I couldn’t help it. The words were flippant, but something about them made my stomach turn.
He leaned in, just enough to make my skin crawl.
"You think you know what you want, but I know what youneed," he murmured, tapping his fingers against the bar in aslow, measured rhythm. "Someone to guide you, to keep you focused."
The phrasing, the tone. It was familiar. It was wrong.
The back of my neck prickled at the memory of my conversation with Aunt Maryam after yoga surfaced. I could still hear the words spoken in her crisp and cutting voice.
"He lets you run wild instead of guiding you. Focusing you on what matters."
I went still.
Ryan noticed, and he smirked.
The ice in my chest thickened.
Had Aunt Maryam told him that? Did she believe that?
Or was this just Ryan, assuming he deserved something that had never belonged to him in the first place?
I swallowed hard, schooling my features. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was just the kind of thing people like them said.
Or maybe?—
His hand shifted—too quick, too bold—brushing my thigh.
I shoved it away. "I'm not interested, Ryan."
