Page 78 of Phobia
“Maybe if you didn’t rob people I wouldn’t look down my nose at you.”
“I’ve never stolen a single dime from you, Mr. Rivera.” I pointedly used the wrong title just to watch the heat burn in his eyes.
Henry glared. “Yeah but you stole my lunch.”
Not this again. I’d heard enough during our shift together. It was the most he’d ever talked to me, after all. “Prove it,” I hissed.
“How can I prove it, when the evidence is inside your tiny gluttonous belly?” Henry’s jaw clenched tight and he leaned forward, dark eyes blazing. He looked like one of those mostly naked statues you see in museums. Ready to go to battle in only a loincloth, their carved, sloped noses regal and wrathful. “Iknowyou took it.” He probably would’ve been beautiful if he hadn’t been quite so annoying.
“Andnowyou’re calling me a liar.”
“Says the liar.” He glared at me. “Even now, you’re trying to manipulate me.”
“Why would I try to manipulate you over a fucking cabbage salad?” Just remembering what it had tasted like as I’d wolfed it down hidden beneath the docks that afternoon made my stomach curl. Ew. It had somehow managed to taste worse than it smelled. Miraculously both bland and disgustingly over-seasoned all at the same time. Henry had clearly tried to camouflage his carrots with a myriad of mystery spices in a sad attempt at independence. Which I only knew because I’d overheard him boasting to our coworkers once that he packed his own lunch every day, despite having a house full of servants to do it for him. What a prick.
After eating the damn thing though, the fact that he’d prepared it himself…did not surprise me.
He had no taste. No taste at all.
I mean, cabbage? Really?
Only two kinds of people ate cabbage.
Poor people, exhibit A: Me. And fitness freaks, exhibit B: the dude sitting across from me glaring me into submission like he could read every snide thought in my head.
“Aha! See? I knew it. You’d only know what I’d packed if you’d been the one to take it.” He looked positively gleeful now. Like he’d caught me with my hand inside a cookie jar. Excellent. Time to stomp on him.
“Or maybe—consider this—I knew what you packed because you’re boring as hell and eat the same thing every single day.” I watched his jaw snap shut with a satisfied grin. Served him right. Check. And. Mate.
Henry’s eyes narrowed.
“Stop trying to trick me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I sniffed.
“I can see through you, Oliver.” His jaw clenched again and a vein in his forehead throbbed. “From day one you’ve twisted your silver tongue to get what you want.”
“And you think what I want is your stinky-ass lunch? No, thank you.”
“No,” Henry huffed angrily, his voice lowering into a husky little growl that had the hair on my arms standing on end. “I think you want to get away with taking from me, not because you even wanted my goddamn lunch, but because you like to think you’re smarter than I am.”
He was right. Damn. I hadn’t realized he would be this astute. It…shocked me a little. Most people were far more gullible than this. I ran laps around them with glee without them ever realizing. I should’ve known Henry would be different.
“You’re sneaky,” Henry continued in that same low growl that had me trembling. My toes curled in my boot and I wondered if he could feel them moving beneath the tight vise of his fingers. Another raindrop hit my nose and I dashed it away, too distracted by his anger and the way it made me feel to notice. I liked him mad, I realized. It was way better than that polite blankness he usually sported on his stupid handsome face. If only he’d shut up and let me enjoy it without him insulting me. “You’re dishonest and—”
Before he could continue his barrage of insults I interrupted him. “I don’t like you either.”
Henry huffed and rolled his eyes, the fat-headed bastard. “You’re just jealous.”
Jealous?
Fuck him.
“Jealous?” I huffed in disbelief. “Of you?” Righteous indignation burned inside me as I aimed a kick at his shin with my other boot. He saw it coming from a mile away, snatching both feet now so the kick never connected. “You’ve never had to work for anything a day in your life. You’re soft. Riding around on Daddy’s coattails, sipping golden cocktails, while you sit your giant ass down on a chair made of money. You don’t know how it feels to go without because you had to choose a roof over your head. You’ve never sucked a cock for a warm meal or stolen scraps from dumpsters just so you didn’t starve. Jealous of you? Of course I fucking am.” I struggled against his hold on my feet, but infuriatingly, his grip remained firm. “If I wasn’t, I truly would be an idiot.”
Henry interrupted my rant, though the anger in his voice had faded to a tentative whisper. “Do you really do that?” His broad fingers were pinching my toes. I squirmed.
It was not lost on me that I was now spread eagle, both my legs captured.
