Page 11 of Cruel When He Smiles
His lips twitch and Dr. Ellis clears her throat. “Well, let’s focus on why we’re here, shall we?”
I don’t move or break eye contact with Liam. I don’t let him think he won whatever this is, but I see the act, though. It might be because I grew up surrounded by manipulation that I can spot a monster hiding behind a kind smile.
Dr. Ellis starts talking about emotional regulation, about ways to de-escalate situations, about how I need to recognize why I lash out. I barely listen because I don’t need to. I know why I lash out. I know why I get angry. I know why I’m sitting in this fucking chair.
And I know that Liam Callahan is watching me like I’m a goddamn experiment.
“So, Nate,” Liam says suddenly, cutting through Dr. Ellis’s words as though he wasn’t even listening either. “What are you working on these days?”
I blink, caught off guard by the change in direction. “What?”
He tilts his head, smiling like he’s just making conversation. “Your major. Med field, right? That’s gotta be tough.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah. And?”
He shrugs. “Just curious.”
No, he’s not. I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but it’s not curiosity. It’s not small talk.
I grip the armrests of my chair. “Psych, right?”
His lips quirk up. “You’ve been paying attention.”
I grit my teeth. “Yeah. Makes sense. You like fucking with people’s heads.”
Dr. Ellis sighs. “Nate—”
As Liam’s smile widens, I know I just gave him exactly what he wanted. “It’s fascinating, don’t you think? The way people reveal things without even realizing it.”
My blood runs hot. He’s not talking about people; he’s talking about me.
I force myself to relax. “Yeah,” I say, voice even. “Fascinating.”
Liam watches me for a second longer, then sits back, satisfied, while Dr. Ellis keeps talking, but I don’t hear her. Because now, I know Liam isn’t just a smug asshole.
He’s dangerous.
I’m out of the chair before Dr. Ellis can finish her last sentence.
The second she dismisses us, I grab my bag and shove through the door, not caring if it looks rude, not caring if she calls after me. My pulse is pounding, and my body is thrumming with leftover adrenaline, the kind that makes my hands itch and myskin feel too fucking tight. I don’t stop, don’t look back, and I don’t acknowledge the presence I know is behind me.
The rhythm of his steps is unhurried and smooth, like he has all the time in the world, while my legs move fast, taking me anywhere that isn’t here.
But I don’t get far.
“Look at you, scampering away.”
His voice is calm, sweet, fucking relentless, and I hate how it hooks under my skin and makes me react even though I swore I wouldn’t.
I turn and meet his gaze. “What do you want, Callahan?”
He smiles, lazy and amused. “You,” he says simply.
My stomach flips.No.
He doesn’t mean it like that. He’s fucking with me. He’s playing a game, testing limits, seeing how far he can push before I snap.
I scoff, rolling my shoulders, trying to shake the tension off. “You’re not funny.”
