ANYTHING BUT ENEMIES

27. breaking the ice (part ii)

I SCOFF AT the smugness in Dane's voice before stepping up to the second set of controls. "Let's play."

He's leaning against the front of the machine, staring at the side of my face as I align my hands with the joystick until I turn to see him. "What?"

"I read your poem."

Shit.

"Oh, really?" My attempt to keep my voice level crashes and burns. "That's...great."

"Yeah, I know. It was interesting seeing how inferior you consider yourself to me."

I shake my head, narrowing my eyes at him. "Sounds like you interpreted it wrong."

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay, then I'm telling you." My arms cross petulantly over my chest. "You interpreted it wrong."

His lips twitch, head cocking like he's waiting for me to blow up on him.

I don't give him the satisfaction, pressing my lips together to keep from saying something I might regret, consoled by the fact that I may have gotten the last word in.

It doesn't take long before the ball's back in his court, though, a hand reaching up to catch my jaw as if he's done it a thousand times before. Our eyes meet sharply, breath catching in my throat at the contact.

"Interpret it right for me then."

I hate the way my heartbeat accelerates at the command. "Fine. I don't consider myself inferior. I think you just force your way into being more respected. As a man."

A chuckle escapes his lips just barely, and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "As a man or because I'm more talented?"

"You're manipulative."

"Am I?"

"People don't like you and you still bully your way into making them think they owe you something."

"And that's manipulative. Making people respect me is manipulative."

"Yes—No—"

He hums, brushing a thumb up against the side of my mouth, effectively shutting me up before he lets go of my face to drag his finger down the tip of his tongue, never breaking eye contact.

My mouth pops open audibly, heat coursing through my body as I fight to keep my expression neutral.

Predictably, the corners of his lips twitch up in amusement before he explains himself in a frustratingly matter-of-fact way, "Hummus. Have you been food-trained yet, Cleodora? The food goes in, not around."

"Funny." My heart thumps out a dangerous beat in my chest, part anger, part something hard to place. I reach up to swipe at my face again, suddenly self-conscious, on edge. "But you never answered the question."

"What question?"

"What you like most about me."

"Oh, you wanted an answer?"

"Yeah, I wanted an—"

"Pissing you off definitely."

"Excuse me?"

He leans closer, cocking his head. "You heard me. I like watching you get upset for stupid reasons. It's fun."

"I don't get upset for stupid reasons."

"Well, according to a little phone call I overheard on the rooftop between you and your mother the other day, that's not the case."

"That wasn't—"