Page 23 of Playing Pretend

I SAT OUTSIDE ON the terrace, and allowed myself to be comforted by the array of noises rising from the streets below. They were like a desynchronized orchestra, and yet still managed to find a rhythm all of its own. It lulled my senses, and assuaged my emotions to the point where I was able to stop crying. After a hot shower, I’d changed into my ratty shirt and came outside. It was a beautiful evening, warm and humid, and it seemed foolish to lock myself in the confines of the bedroom. The view was spectacular, and the terrace stretched all the way to my right, and around the corner. I spotted a spa tub, a wet bar, and two large grills farther down.

I rested my chin on my knees, hoping that my eyes were a little less red and puffy, and wished that I could call my Mom. But that wouldn’t have been smart, at least not until I was back in an apartment of my own. I wouldn’t have been able to keep the truth from her, and I didn’t want her to worry about me either.

It was just one more thing I wanted to deal with on my own.

The faint sound of a door opening had my muscles going rigid, and I wrapped my arms around my bent legs defensively without thought.

I heard the heavy footfalls of Caleb’s steps across the carpet, and regardless of how prepared I was to hear his voice, I still grimaced when he spoke.

“I brought you some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” I fibbed. I hadn’t eaten since lunch.

“You’re lying.”

My head whipped around, and I gave him a dirty look.

“You have a tell,” he continued, leaning casually against the doorframe between the bedroom and the terrace. “You nibble on your bottom lip when you’re lying.”

I became aware of it then, the feel of the tender skin of my bottom lip between my teeth.

Caleb expelled a long breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

“I can’t think what on Earth for,” I replied sarcastically. It was better than showing him just how bruised I truly felt.

“I was an asshole earlier,” he conceded, dropping his gaze to the floor. “You don’t deserve that.”

“With all due respect,” I started, deciding to throw caution to the wind and lay it all out there. “It wasn’t just today, Caleb. You’ve been an asshole almost every time we’ve been in the same room.”

Caleb’s perfectly shaped brows arched upwards in disbelief.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “You can deny it all you want, but we both know you don’t see me as more than a punching bag.”

“You’re not -”

With a shake of my head he stopped talking. I didn’t want to hear his rebuttal or his excuses. My tolerance for his brand of bullshit was nonexistent.

“You want to punish me, Caleb.”

Saying it out aloud was admitting that I’d finally pieced it together.

“Why would I be punishing you?”

A hollow laugh bubbled up my throat. For someone so intelligent, he was acting rather obtuse.

“For some asinine reason you see one thing when you look at me.” I brought my eyes back to his. “My father.”

The shift in Caleb’s demeanor was swift, and instantaneous, and he pushed away from his position in the doorway.

“We’re not talking about this.”

His hard tone should have deterred me, but as soon as he turned his back, I sprung out of the chair and followed him.

“Don’t be a coward,” I snapped, not at all taken aback by the sudden indignation warming my blood. I’d been keeping so many of my emotions bottled up that I was bound to explode at some point.

Caleb dumped the plate of food he’d been holding in his hand on my dresser, it clattered loudly, and he swiveled so fast that I had to backtrack to avoid bumping into him.

“I’m not a coward,” he barked. “I just don’t want to talk about this with you. Ever.”