Page 101 of Because I Liked A Boy
My eyes dragged across the words again and again, as if repetition would make them mean something different. But it didn’t. It only sharpened the truth: my father wasn’t wasting any time. He’d parade Penelope in front of London like she was a prize he’d won, not a child he’d destroyed.
Liam’s voice cut through the rush in my ears. “I’ve been invited.” He hesitated, then added, “With a plus one.”
I froze. “You’re saying—”
“That we can get you inside,” he finished for me. “You’ll be with me. He won’t see you coming.”
My pulse thundered, equal parts fear and fury. It was too neat, too perfect. But I didn’t care. For once, I had a way in.
I curled my hands around the mug, vanilla and heat searing my palms. “Then that’s it. That’s when I take her back.”
Liam held my gaze, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“That you won’t do this alone again.” His voice dropped, softer but iron-willed. “I’m with you now. Whether you like it or not.”
For a moment, silence stretched between us, thick and charged. The bruise on my cheek throbbed. Penny’s voice echoed in my ear. Nathan’s ghost pressed in. And across from me sat Liam, steady, unflinching, handing me the one thing I hadn’t dared to hope for: a chance.
I swallowed hard, forcing my voice steady. “Fine. But when the time comes… nothing will stop me. Not even you.”
His mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite a threat. “We’ll see.”
And just like that, the plan was set.
That afternoon, he insisted we go shopping. “If we’re walking into that place, we’re going in properly,” he said, tugging his jacket on. “No mistakes. No weak spots.”
I wanted to argue, but the truth was I didn’t have anything that would pass at a society gala. So I followed him.
The city buzzed around us, store fronts gleaming like teeth. Liam steered us into the kind of boutique that made my chest ache—glass and brass, hushed staff moving like they’d rehearsedsympathy.
He got fitted first, the tailor circling him like a hawk, pins flashing, murmuring compliments like prayer. Liam didn’t seem to enjoy it, but every now and then his eyes slid to me in the mirror, like he was checking I hadn’t vanished.
Then it was my turn.
Rows of dresses hung like promises—silk that whispered, sequins that swallowed light, lace that looked like lace should: dangerous. I ignored all of them until I saw it.
Black. Simple, sharp, unapologetic.
I slipped it on. The mirror threw back a version of me I barely recognised: the dress hugged close, slit sharp at the thigh, neckline cut like armour. Not broken. Not discarded. Dangerous. For one reckless second, Hunter’s ghost flickered there—in that imagined voice reminding me I was beautiful when I hadn’t believed him—then I shoved the thought away. This wasn’t about him. This was about showing my father I was no longer the girl he could slap down and discard.
When I stepped out, Liam was waiting, jacket slung over his arm. He didn’t say anything at first. He only looked, jaw tightening like he was holding something back.
Finally, his voice came low. “That’s the one.”
Something in me flinched, soft and sharp all at once, but I lifted my chin. “Good. Because I plan to burn it down in this.”
His mouth twitched—somewhere between approval and warning. “Then let’s make sure you’re ready.”
He stayed everywhere I needed him to be—crouching to check the fit of the shoes, watching the tailor’s hands too closely, picking out a gold bracelet and simple studs because he knew I hated jewellery that screamed. At the till, he paid without drama, slipping the receipt into my coat pocket like a promise.
Outside, the city moved on as if nothing had changed. But I carried the weight of the dress like a weapon.
By the time we got back, night had bled into the sky. Liam disappeared into the kitchen and returned ten minutes later with two greasy McDonald’s bags, dropping one in front of me on the coffee table.
“Fancy,” I muttered, peeling back the wrapper.
“Don’t get used to it.” He flopped down beside me, stealing one of my fries with a smirk.
