But in this case, he also happens to be right.
I am lying.
And in this case, I’m actually willing to take a step back to keep from telling the truth.
“Next question,” I snarl at him.
He just laughs. “How old were you when you first lost your virginity?” he asks.
I stop short.
“That’s too far.”
“Probably.”
“Why do you even care?”
He shrugs. “I’m nosy.”
“I can see that.”
His blue eyes crinkle at the corners every time he smiles. I can’t help but think that my attitude towards him would have been the complete opposite if we’d met under different circumstances.
“Well?”
“A year ago,” I mumble. “Right after I turned seventeen.”
It’s a lie. The question is—does he know that?
He cocks his head to the side and eyes me carefully. I stand my ground and refuse to break eye contact.
For some reason, this feels like one I cannot lose.
“You might be lying,” he says thoughtfully, chewing on his bottom lip.
What would that same lip feel like under my tongue?
Jesus.
Did I just think that?
“You’re blushing.”
I try and control my expression, but he’s already seen through me. “You keep asking me personal questions.”
“That’s no reason to blush.”
“Can I take a step forward or not?”
He considers me a moment longer. “I think you’re lying… but I can’t be sure.”
“Some bullshit detector you’ve got there,” I drawl. “Real impressive.”
He snorts. “I’ll admit, your face is distracting.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
His eyes linger on mine. “It means you’re beautiful,” he answers simply.