He’s confusing her, and he most likely knows it— it’s infuriating. Her fingers clench in anger, turning white at the knuckles and making her jaw taut as if he said one more word it’d spring. Her eyes shifted up and down, staring at him, wondering why he was coming closer instead of leaving.
The space between them made her uncomfortable, a little too close and nobody had gotten this close— hardly even her mom or grandparents who’d try to make the situation at least somewhat better. His breath was warm against her skin and she could barely breathe when he spoke.
“You’re a book of contradictions,” she decided and licked her lips. “—I—I don’t, I mean I, God. What does that even mean! Control you? I barely know you! I doubt your first name is even Foster. You keep yourself so closed off and yet you stand her, pretend you know everything about me and make me look like I’m some kind of idiot. Do you find some sort of sick enjoyment in this? Because I sure as hell don’t.”
The things he’d tell her if he could, every last minute of hell she’s put him through – he’d tell it in perfect detail. Because he remembers everything from day one. Every last sin, mistake, lie. He wouldn’t be hesitant to remind her if it didn’t faze him so much, and if it didn’t mean losing a certain status.
But sometimes he can’t resist himself – sometimes it’s too much to hold back.
“Avery,” he mumbles, stepping back and easing towards the door, “my real name is Avery. I think you can figure out for yourself why I haven’t told anyone.”
The door is open now, his hand still on the knob. “You should know better than to get on my bad side.”
