Page 68 of Under the Weatherman
“And she didn’t poison mine?”
She sputtered a laugh. “I don’t know what you two did to each other.”
“Pretty sure she hates me.”
“No offense, but Chelsea hates everyone. Especially guys.” She paused. “That is, she likes guys but in a limited capacity.”
“But she likes Bas, right?” I really worried he was rushing headlong into a meat grinder. “I mean, shedidwarn him not to feed the animals.”
Elizabeth continued along the sidewalk. “Chelsea lashes out as a deterrent. Most guys see all her red flags and run, which is what she’s counting on.”
“Meanwhile, Bas has no sense of self-preservation.”
“It’s a match made in heaven.”
I snorted. “If you say so. Feels like a lot of games to me.”
“Sometimes,” she said, eying me, “games are the only way people can get past their own defenses.”
I chewed my lip, trying that bit of wisdom on for size. This felt like a great opening to talk about the elephant in our relationship. “There’s a vast difference between games and deception.”
“Noted. But you have to know the night we met, Chelsea was just pushing me out of my own way. Think of it as an exercise in overcoming my own fears.”
I understood that well enough, but it begged the question. “Whydidyou pick us? Why me?” I adjusted the strap of my backpack, trying to seem casual. “Obviously, I’m glad you did, but it felt like your whole routine was an elaborate pick-up line.”
“Post hoc fallacy,” she said with a little shrug.
I considered myself a little bit of a nerd, but I couldn’t compete with an actual English major. “What is that?”
“It means correlation does not imply causation.”
I was so lost. “Which means what in this context?”
A passing group of students forced us to walk single file, but once we were alone, she explained, “Just because we hooked up, it doesn’t mean that was my end goal that night.”
We’d made it to the bridge by the train station, and I paused to stare up the tracks, not really taking in the view as I worked out what she was saying. “You know, intent does not negate impact.”
She sighed, leaning in next to me against the rail. “I don’t know how many ways I can apologize for misleading you.”
“Lying to me,” I clarified.
“Fine. I lied to you. I’m sorry.” She blew a raspberry like there really was no difference. “Are we ever going to get past that? Have you never pretended to be someone you’re not? For fun?”
That was downplaying what she’d done.
She couldn’t possibly understand how pranks like she’d pulled on me burrowed deep into my muscles, into my bones, and I had a hard time letting go, learning to trust again.
But I didn’t want to pick another fight, so I confessed my own secret. “Actually, I pretend I’m someone I’m not almost every night. But it’s my job.”
“What do you mean?”
I rubbed my neck, feeling a little vulnerable. “I mean, the TV personality is something I have to put on, like a costume.”
“Like those glasses?” She cocked her eyebrow all saucy. “Those are for pretense, right?”
“I guess so, yeah.” I slipped them off sheepishly.
Elizabeth stepped back, hand over her heart, eyes wide. “Who are you?” She twisted around to look behind her, then peered around me. “Where did Evan go? He was right here?”
