ANYTHING BUT ENEMIES

29. are you crying?

"WHAT DO YOU mean?" I ask instantly, hands tightening around my upper arms.

He shrugs, not moving from his spot against the wall. "A long, depressing story about my childhood. Do you still want to hear it?"

My mouth opens, and no words come out. His hazel gaze sears into me, steady, focused.

"No?"

"Yes. Yes, I want to."

He's silent for a second, sucking his teeth before responding. "Fine. But this shit stays between us, alright?" Although it comes out like a question, his expression lets me know that he doesn't think I'd share it with anyone anyway.

This weird mutual distaste has bred a sort of trust.

"Pinky promise." I murmur.

A beat passes before he holds out his finger. I link my own pinky around it and we shake once before our hands return back to ourselves like it never happened at all.

"I collect them because I'm looking for something. A chain I lost a couple years ago."

"How did you lose it?" I can barely hear my own voice, but he still picks up on the words.

"I pawned it off for quick cash." He tilts his head, gaze shifting to the floor. "Probably the stupidest decision I've ever made in my life."

"I find that hard to believe."

His eyes snap back to mine at the comment. "Funny."

"Thanks. Go on."

"The chain was my dad's—well, my biological dad's. I've never actually met the guy." Then he adds, seemingly as an afterthought, "I was adopted."

My mouth forms an O, obviously not quite sure how to respond to that.

He seems to snap out of some trance at my lack of a response, breaking into a sudden chuckle that makes me jolt.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. It's just...it's ridiculous how good you are at making me talk. The one person that knows how to get on every last one of my nerves." He shakes his head. "And I'm the manipulative one?"

"You offered to answer the question," I argue, arms folding even tighter over my chest. "I'm not forcing you into anything."

"You are. With that fucking look."

"What look? I'm not giving any look."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"It's this sweet face. Like you're playing nice...or like you actually give a shit about what I'm saying."

I scoff. "Maybe I am nice."

"But don't actually care?"

"Just finish the story if you're going to," I snap, not liking where this conversation is going.

He breathes out a sigh. "Friends close and enemies closer, right?"

Our eyes level once more, and I raise my brows, teeth coming down hard on my tongue before I raise a hand to motion him on.

"My parents, my adoptive parents, I mean, they're...demanding, to say the least."

He pauses as my body stiffens, immediately giving me reassurance. "They didn't hurt me or anything if that's what you're thinking. They're just overbearing, I guess. Upper-middle class with membership to a country club—and pretty much all the family drama that comes along with it."