Page 99 of The Revenge Game
“Oh my god, Andrew, are you actually listening to yourself? You’re saying he’s been hurt in the past. Imagine how he’ll feel when he discovers the truth about who you really are!”
“It’ll fizzle out. He’ll never need to know. He’ll be propositioned by some gorgeous guy, and he’ll end it with me and will never need to find out the truth.”
Leo fixes me with another one of his looks. “What if it doesn’t fizzle out? What happens then?”
I’ve been staring at my laptop screen for the past hour, attempting to distract myself from my conversation with Leoby doing some work. But my mind keeps circling back to Leo’s words.Eventually, he’s going to find out who you are.
My phone buzzes. A message from Justin.
Missing you. Want to come over tonight?
Heat floods my face even as guilt churns in my stomach. The easy intimacy of his words makes something twist inside me.
A week ago, the idea of Justin Morris sending me messages saying he misses me would have seemed as likely as my parents understanding what I actually do for a living.
But now…now it feels natural.
Want to get dinner in Covent Garden instead?
Covent Garden has been on our list of places to visit, so it’s not weird for me to suggest it.
And I like the idea of meeting up with Justin on neutral territory. Somewhere we won’t fall into bed together.
Hopefully, it will help me think more clearly, work out the exact odds of hurting Justin now compared to hurting him more sometime down the track.
His reply comes quickly.
Sure. Though at this time of year, Covent Garden basically looks like Christmas threw up everywhere.
You make it sound so appealing.
What can I say? I’m a sales person. I’m the master of persuasion.
When he knocks on my door, Justin greets me with a smile, looking unfairly gorgeous in a soft gray sweater that makes me want to run my hands over it. Over him.
And haul him into my apartment so I can have my wicked way with him.
No. We’re doing public spaces tonight. That’s the whole point.
The Sunday evening tube is quiet enough that we easily find seats, but Justin sits close enough that our shoulders touch. And it shows me how monumentally stupid I am to think that being in any kind of proximity to him would help me untangle the mess of my mind. What part of me thought that staring into those amazing eyes would help me think clearly?
“I’m sorry for this afternoon,” I try to keep my voice casual. “I obviously didn’t realize Leo would turn up like that.”
“Is everything okay with him? Things seemed a bit tense between you.” Justin’s voice is hesitant, his eyes studying me.
I blow out a deep breath, adjusting my glasses. “Yeah, things are fine. Leo’s… Well, he’s known me for a long time, so he’s quite protective of me.”
“I hope you told him he doesn’t need to protect you from me,” Justin says.
No, with you, I need protection from myself.
“Yeah, I think he gets that.”
I fidget with my phone, pulling up the Covent Garden website like it requires my complete concentration.
“So, apparently, this amazing gelato place in Covent Garden does a Christmas pudding flavor. Though I’m not sure if that’s brilliant or horrifying.”
“My vote leans toward horrifying,” Justin says, and our conversation moves to discussing the weirdest flavors of ice cream we’ve ever tasted.
