“I can’t... it’s too tight.”
“Stop teasing, Thalia. It’s enough I have to deal with you dressed like this,” he utters, tracing his index finger across my collarbones, then lower, following the edge of the white fabric on my chest. “Don’t push me. There’s a fine line I don’t want to cross. Pick a different truth.”
Don’t push?
Does he know me?
If pushing, poking, nudging, and tearing apart uncrossable lines is the way to get him to drop the act, I’ll push, poke, and set the world on fire.
“I’m missing a pearl necklace,” I say, smiling when he moves away, glancing around the room as if searching for the said necklace. “Write it down.”
“A pearl necklace?” His eyebrows draw in the middle for a second before it clicks. “Jesus! You have such a dirty mind. That’s not going on you!” He tosses the marker aside.
“Don’t be like that. It’s supposed to be fun, right?” I shove the marker back in his hand. “You win. Nothing sexual.” Which means I have to use the original idea. “WriteI spent a month in jail.”
“What?” he mouths, frowning. “Why? When?”
“Almost two years ago. I couldn’t afford bail.”
“So... you were waiting for trial?” His eyes search my face. “What were you accused of?”
I wonder what his reaction would be if I told him the truth...murder. Would he run? Kick me out the door? Would he listen to my story? Doubtful. No one back home cared to listen. No one asked if I killed him. Everyone assumed I did, yet no one asked why.
Their mind was made up: guilty.
Vasilis Dimopoulos was a beloved Greek hero. Robin Hood incarnated. The man thousands idolized. Presidential candidate. Philanthropist.
Whether I actually killed him and under what circumstances wasn’t important. Thetruthwasn’t important to the crowds of people spitting in my face. Vasilis was dead, and someone had to rot in jail.
A witch hunt began. People stood outside the court, holding banners withBurn her at the stakewritten in crimson. Many petitioned for a public trial.
“That’s not important,” I say on a sigh. It’s selfish to hide the truth while we’re growing closer each day, but tonight isn’t the time to drop a bomb that’ll turn our relationship upside down. If I ever pluck the courage to share my story, Theo will be the one to hear it because what I never thought possible happened: I trust him unconditionally. “Just write it down, and let’s go. We’re going to be late.”
He holds the marker harder, jaw muscle ticking. “Are you sure you want me to write that?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you about it one day, but not tonight, okay?” The wounds are fresh; I don’t think they’ll ever heal. “I’m not ready.”Not ready to lose you.
He replaces the cap on the marker, shoves it in his back pocket, and then pulls me into a tight hug, lips on my temple. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen.”
I cling to him, soaking up the closeness and peace he evokes. It’s a simple gesture—a hug. Nothing extraordinary, but when you’ve been deprived of human contact for as long as I have, a hug means more, it hits differently.
Waking up in his arms this morning was the happiest, most peaceful, and wholesome moment of my life. I’ve woken up next to him before, but it was different today. He didn’t do it out of pity or because he was worried. Hewantedtohold me all night. Once I tell him the truth, he might not get close to me again.
SEVENTEEN
Thalia
NICO'S HOUSE IN ENORMOUS. Six bedrooms, a huge garden, and a living room that could fit Theo’s entire condo.
The place is crowded with beautifully dressed people, each with a truth of their own written across their white clothes. Shawn and Jack, both in matching V-neck t-shirts, stand to the side of the room, beers in hand and smiling as they talk to a group of men. I can’t see Logan, but I’m sure he’s here somewhere. Nico’s the one who approaches us the moment we step through the door. He and Theo are thick as thieves. So much so that I think they should’ve been twins.
I can’t put my finger on it yet, but there’s an unnerving aura surrounding Nico. Every one of his moves and gestures is loaded with a threat. He could probably intimidate an entire prison block of ruthless convicts with one look.
I think he could convince a house of supermodels to an orgy with a different look, but that’s beside the point.
The way he speaks and carries himself makes me just about as warm, calm, and comfortable as being in an operating room.
Unlike Logan, who I instantly took a liking to. He’s cheerful, a tad ostentatious, but welcoming and positive.