Page 170 of The Lies We Play
“You’re thinking too loud,” he mutters into the pillow.
My breath catches, then I laugh under it. “You’re asleep.”
“No.”
“You were.”
“I was monitoring.”
“You were drooling.”
His eyes open.
Not fully. Just enough to let me know he heard, judged, and filed that statement for later retaliation.
“I don’t drool,” he says.
“You absolutely do.”
“I object.”
“Sustained, because I’m feeling generous.”
His mouth moves against the pillow. Almost a smile. With Halston, almost is an event.
Then his gaze clears enough to find mine.
The room goes quiet again, but this silence is different. Less empty. More alive. His gaze drops to my mouth, then comes back up. The air between us warms by degrees. Not sudden. Not dramatic. Just enough for my body to remember his, and his to remember mine.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Both of us look.
Once.
Neither of us moves.
It buzzes again.
Halston’s mouth curves slightly. “If that’s Liv and we ignore her, she’ll assume we died.”
“She’ll assume you killed me.”
“She’d ask why I did it before calling emergency services.”
“She’d ask for documentation.”
“She’d correct my grammar in the confession.”
I laugh, and this time it feels less like avoidance. More like the three of us in the room at once, even with an ocean between us.
I reach for the phone.
Liv’s name fills the screen.
A video call.
Of course.
